It was the cliché American dream, and I got shit for it from all my friends growing up. They’d call me soft and a pussy and everything else they could think of to try to make fun of what I wanted. But I never wavered. I knew from a young age what I wanted, and I wouldn’t stop until I got it.
That night, passing that exam and getting my official job offer? It felt like checking off a giant box. It felt like stepping into the next chapter.
It felt like the future I’d always wanted was right there, brushing my fingertips.
If it sounds like I’d moved on and found a life without B — it’s because I had.
Don’t get me wrong, that girl had a permanent place in my heart. I was an absolute fucking wreck for a solid year after she left, and the longer we went without a single word between us, the more my heart broke.
But as time went on, I grew to realize I couldn’t hold on to hope for something that could have been. I had no choice but to move forward — even if I had to do it with her still hanging onto my heart.
I still called her, twice every year, once on her birthday and once on the anniversary of her father’s death. She never answered, and because she’d gone ghost on all social media, I had no idea where she was or what she was doing.
I knew she had the same phone number, though, her sweet voice telling me each time that I’d reached her, and to leave a message after the tone.
Three years. Three years of wondering, of longing, of letting her go and yet never truly being able to. Three years of missed calls and unanswered voicemails. Three years of being clean.
And then I walked into that bar.
And I saw her.
It was her hair I noticed first — because any time I saw a woman who had hair even close to B’s, it called my attention, and I’d stare until the woman turned around, and I was disappointed yet again to find it wasn’t her.
But this time, over the top of her head, I spotted Jenna.
And her mouth was hanging open like a frog trying to catch flies.
My heart thundered in my chest as she murmured something to B, and then she whipped around, her gray eyes slamming into me like a hurricane.
All the noise — the music, the laughter, the sound of glasses clinking together — it all faded away the moment her eyes met mine. The guys I was with were already making their way to the bar, clapping me on the shoulder and telling me how drunk they were going to get me, but I just stood there, smiling, full disbelief washing over me as I took in the sight of her.
Her hair was longer than it had ever been, full and curly, but falling down past her shoulders now. I knew without being an even inch closer that she’d been surfing, because her skin had that permanent summer glow, her freckles more pronounced than ever. Those lips of hers that always bewitched me were parted in that moment, and I swear, just the sight of them open like that made my pulse tick up a notch.
I was moving toward her before I realized it, my legs and feet and heart not able to resist the magnetism between us.
I saw the breath B took, the way it hitched in her throat, the way she couldn’t look away from me either as I made my way across the bar. She turned in her barstool, allowing me proper access to the rest of her, and I took in the tiny, strapless top she wore, how it hugged her breasts and proudly displayed her collarbone, her neck, her toned midriff. I knew without her even standing yet that those jeans were painted on, tight and tempting, and when I caught sight of the tall, black high heels on her feet, I sucked in a hot breath.
She crossed her legs, dangling one of those heels like lure, and I let her reel me in until I was standing right in front of her.
I tucked my hands into my pockets, not even a little ashamed as my eyes roamed over her again. I couldn’t stare long enough. I couldn’t get enough of her to last me another minute, let alone a lifetime.
“You changed your hair,” I finally mused, taking my time as I dragged my gaze up the length of her and met her eyes.
“And you got a tattoo,” she said, her voice warmer and sweeter than I even remembered.
I glanced down at the bit of my tattoo peeking out from where I’d shoved the sleeves of my dress shirt up to my elbows, smirking, but then my eyes were on her again.
It was a long moment of the two of us just staring, smiling, drinking each other in.
Then, I shook my head. “You have two seconds to get off that barstool and into my arms before I drag you off it.”
She blushed, not able to fight her smile as she slowly stood. Just like I assumed, those jeans were painted on tight, and the moment she was standing, I took her in my arms.
Her sweet scent invaded every sense, my body humming back to life like it’d been a caterpillar locked in a cocoon until that very moment. I spread my wings, wrapping them around her and letting out a content sigh at the way it felt to stretch, to feel her warmth against me, to hold her familiar shape in my arms once more.
And then, in a whoosh, everything came back.
It was suddenly too loud, bar patrons laughing, music blasting, glassware clinking all around us. But I held onto her tight, not believing she was actually there, and sure as hell not willing to release her until I knew for sure she wouldn’t disappear in a whisper of smoke once I did.
“Oh, hey, Jamie, nice to see you, too,” Jenna snarked from her seat.
I regretfully loosened my grip around B, but she didn’t sit, just reached for her beer and stood there next to me like she, too, was afraid I’d disappear if she moved too far away.
“Hi, Jenna,” I said, appeasing her. She gave me a knowing smirk before I turned back to B. “So, celebrating tonight?”
She had a graduation cap on her head, and I flicked the edge of it, chuckling at her embarrassed groan.
“Yes. I got a piece of paper that says I’m great at pulling all-nighters and regurgitating textbook notes.”
I smiled. “Congrats.”
“And she got into grad school,” Jenna added. “In Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh?” I echoed, and though I tried to play it cool, I knew I couldn’t hide the way my brows shot into my hairline, the way my heart accelerated at the thought of her leaving when I’d just found her again. I frowned at B. “What’s my surfer girl going to do in a city like that?”
She visibly swooned at the question, her eyes widening before she blushed and looked down at the label on her beer bottle. She peeled a little more of it back, shrugging.
“And you?” Jenna asked. “What are you doing back in Florida?”
“I’m celebrating, too, actually,” I told her. “Passed my CPA exam and accepted a job offer from my dad.”
B’s head snapped back up at that, and I saw it in her eyes before she spoke — pride and awe. She was one of the few people in my life whom I ever opened up to, so she knew what a big deal this was for me.
“Really?” she asked on a breath. “Wow, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And I realized then that I didn’t want to share this moment with Jenna, or the other girl at the table with them, or all the guys who’d come out to celebrate with me tonight.
The universe whispered to me that my time with her was short, and that I’d better not waste it.
“Want to get out of here?”