When We Were Young

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Her words caught in her throat and her entire being was thrust into a state of chaos because he was standing no more than a foot in front of her. He was so close that she could touch him; her body started to tremble and suddenly the long years between them disintegrated. She time traveled back to when she was fourteen and she had to say goodbye. Every day since then, she missed him. Her heart still needed him as much as it did before, if not more.

"May I?" he asked as he held his arms wide, ready to hold her. She didn't say anything, just tucked herself into his embrace and breathed him in. He felt like home. His arms around her felt as comforting as it always had and internally she damned herself for staying away for all that time.

"Ben," she whispered. "I missed you."

"You have no idea," he released her and held her at arms length as if to examine her. Her eyes were still the same rich shade of amber-brown, her hair still auburn with random threads of fiery copper, hanging in long waves, her nose and cheeks still dappled with freckles. She looked just the same as the last time he'd seen her, the difference only in those years that had passed that turned her from a lanky, awkward teenage girl into a gorgeous, grown woman.

"I'm sorry for just showing up but I had to. My manager had an email from somebody by the name of Franklin--"

"Ohhh that little devil," she whispered under her breath, remembering the night before. "He works for me. This is my store." She smiled sheepishly and blushed.

"I figured it was when I saw the name. Nice touch," he said quietly with a smirk.

"I was about to go get some pizza. Want to walk?"

"Of course," he smiled and fell into step with her. She could have asked him to run out into traffic and he'd have said yes. He realized he'd still do anything for his Ray. Unfortunately, the ever present media with cameras in tow were on hand to ruin any chance of an intimate reunion. He offered her a half-smile, "Sorry."

"Part of the job, I suppose," she went quiet for a moment, recalling all of the times he promised her that one day he'd be famous and she couldn't help but smile. He noticed and was desperate to know what was going through her head. Before he could wonder for too long, she led him into a pizza place, dimly-lit and empty of customers.

"Sabrina!" an older, genial man with white hair and a mustache called out from the kitchen. "The usual?"

"You got it! Inventory Sunday."

"I should have known," the man called out as he made his way to the front of the restaurant. "Hey! You're Sherlock Holmes."

"No, Vince. He's Benedict Cumberbatch."

"You know this girl?" he asked Ben, pointing to Sabrina, his East coast accent as heavy as lead. "She's trouble, this one."

"Oh stop it," she laughed and swatted at Vince's hand. "He thinks he's being protective," she explained. Vince simply chuckled to himself and returned to the pizza oven.

Sabrina let out a sigh and turned to Ben, smiling and as their attentions refocused on each other, that familiar electricity returned. She didn't speak, she just studied him, relearning the angles of his face, the span of his shoulders and the way he smiled just the tiniest bit, every single time their eyes met.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, I just couldn't let any more time go by...I should have called a long time ago...I'm sorry--"

"Ben, the phone works both ways. I should have called and I didn't either. Let's just start again, okay?"

"Yeah," he let out a sigh of relief. "I have to tell you, I saw you last night," he blurted out before fully considering that it might come off just a shade stalker-ish.