OLD FRIENDS

CHAPTER ONE

"Tell me again why I've agreed to this."

"Because, Belle Johnson," my best friend Emma Andrews chastises. "Because you're not a spineless wimp, and you need to get out of this damn house. We're going. The foot is down."

"Emmie, I love you for always supporting me. But you don't know what it was like for me. You've always been the life of the party and everyone we knew still loves you till this day. High school was not fun for me like it was for you."

"All the more reason to go to the reunion." Emma holds a dress up in front of me, examining the cut, design, and length against me. "Go try this on. I bet you look stunning in it." She's effectively dismissed my concerns and is now ignoring my change of heart. The fiftieth one today.

I take the blue shift dress from her and step into the changing room. When I slide it over my head, even I have to admit it looks good on me. The spaghetti straps are thin and delicate. The sheer top layer hangs loosely, but the bodice underneath hugs my breasts, drawing the eye on two of my best assets. The color of the dress matches the deep blue of my eyes and makes my blond hair even brighter. The heels of my cute shoes make my toned legs look even longer, and I wish I had a fraction of the confidence I'm faking right now.

"Come out here and show me your sexy body," Emmie yells through the door.

I open it and sheepishly step out and keep my eyes on the floor. Emmie's low catcall whistle makes me smile, and I can't help but look up at her. "Come on. You're just being nice because you're my best friend."

"First of all, I'm never just nice. Secondly, as my best friend, you fucking know that. So when I give a compliment, I mean it. You know that too. And you, my friend, look hot. H.O.T. Now, I've already picked out matching jewelry, so go buy that outfit and let's get out of here."

Before I have time to rethink everything and change my mind again, I wind through the racks and up to the cashier. With everything I could possibly need to attend my ten-year high school reunion tonight, Emma and I leave the department store and move on to the spa for the full treatment of hair, manicure, and pedicure. While part of me is excited to find out what everyone has been up to, a bigger part of me doesn't want to go at all.

I'd rather forget I've even considered going at all.

Except Emmie won't let me do that.

While my feet soak in the hot water, I feel her looking at me. "What's on your mind, Emmie?"

"I'm trying to read your mind."

"Having any luck?"

"Definitely. You're trying to devise a plan to avoid the reunion tonight. Again. But you know that shit won't fly with me. So you're planning to walk in the room, make an appearance, then turn around and walk back out again."

"Still seeing through me, huh?"

"You know it." She chuckles, but we both know she hit the nail on the head. "He may not even be there, ya know. Then again, he may be. Either way, you're not the same person you were all those years ago. Nothing he says will change what you've accomplished, Belle. Don't let him get to you—you're better than he ever thought about being."

I shake my head as I listen to her pep talk. "It's not just him, Em. Yeah, he's a big part of my apprehension about tonight. But honestly, I'm concerned about how everyone will react to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Either they'll look at me with shock and surprise, and that will tell me what they always really thought of me...or they won't know me at all. That'll prove I was invisible to everyone the whole time. If no one remembers me, I'll be so humiliated."

"Belle, you haven't even bothered to friend anyone from school on FaceBook much less even tried to contact them. Why are you letting them influence you so much now? Walk in there with your head held high, your resting bitch face in place, and show them what they've missed out on all these years.

"Babe, as much as you'd like to hide it from me, I know your biggest fear is seeing Chet Richards again. You're stressing about how he will react to you—not anyone else we graduated with. So cut the shit already."

"Fine. I want him to fall to his knees and grovel at my feet. Happy now?"

"Yes. I'd be ecstatic to see that happen, th0ugh. I think you need to forget your panties tonight. A light breeze, a little lift of your dress, and he'll be on his knees begging you all right."

I bust out laughing because a similar thought had already crossed my mind.

Chet Richards—eat your heart out. The one who got away will be the one you'll never have.

Ever.

A few hours later, Emmie and I stroll into the convention center downtown and I instantly feel better. I don't recognize anyone milling around outside the ballroom, so it doesn't matter if they don't know me. When we approach the sign-in table, we search through the name tags until we both find our own. With my adhesive name tag securely pasted on my left shoulder, we walk into the ballroom and we're instantly stopped by an old friend of Emmie's.

"I'm already dying for a drink. Let's head over to the open bar." Emmie moves in the direction of the flowing free drinks, and the people part to give her wide passage. I can't help but think if I were in the lead, they wouldn't even see me coming, much less move out of the way.

I order my drink, and just my luck, the bar tender overfills my cup of vodka and orange juice to the point it sloshes over the rim as soon as I lift the glass. With a short prayer I don't spill it on my new dress and completely ruin my look for the rest of the night, I turn to join Emmie and Dana at the table.

And smash into Chet.

And pour my entire drink down the front of his crisp, white dress shirt.

Fuck. My. Life.