Chapter 8 Buried Feelings, Rising Again

Nathan Grant...

What the hell was it going to be like seeing him again? The last time we'd spoken to one another, it had been very bitter and angry, so it would be interesting to see if that was still there. Would he have simply gotten over it and moved on, or would there be a small part of him that just couldn't let it go? I wasn't sure exactly which category I fit into, and that was something I didn't want to examine too closely.

I thought for a second about our past and how we'd ended up how we did, and it made my heart flutter a little too excitedly.

When I moved to Arrendale and nervously joined a new school, I didn't think that I would end up with any friends. As a very awkward preteen, I had assumed I was far too old to meet new people, so of course, that negative mindset transcended into my body language from the get go. Because I didn't think that anyone would want to speak to me, I shut myself off, which in turn meant no one did.

Well, except for Nathan.

He sat next to me in math class and instantly made a joke about my hair. It was something so stupid, something so small and insignificant that I couldn't even remember what it was now, but it had made me laugh. It broke the ice and helped me to thaw enough to let him in.

We became firm friends, almost inseparable, which was awesome. In my old school, I'd only ever been friends with girls, so it was a brand new, intoxicating world for me. I fell hard and fast for Nathan, there was no doubt about that, but I did my best to push all those feelings down to allow me to continue being his friend.

Of course, it didn't exactly work out as well as I'd hoped in the end, but I did try my best.

He was cute even then. He had short, brown hair, hazel-colored eyes, and dimples that cropped up every time he smiled. It certainly wasn't only me who noticed his gorgeousness, which made me wonder where he might be now. He could have a girlfriend, or even a wife. Maybe even kids... I knew he always wanted to be a father, so that was possible. How would I feel if I spotted him in the supermarket or something with a family in tow? Would it bother me? Would I wish that it was me be his side? Or would I simply see him as just another person? I wondered.

Since I'd left, I hadn't tried to get in contact with him, not even with the explosion of social media. Sure, the temptation to look him up on Facebook had cropped up from time to time, particularly after a few glasses of wine with the girls, and once after a particularly bad day with a man named Buzz who always referred to himself in the third person, but it wasn't an urge that I'd ever followed through on. I just never knew where it was going to end up leading, and that scared me enough to keep me away.

When I left, I told myself that I would put it all in a box at the back of my mind, and that I would never, ever think of it again. I'd always tried to stay true to that promise. When someone tore your heart out, splitting your chest apart, you don't want to go back to that.

Yet here I was, doing just that.

I sighed deeply to myself and stood up, making the decision to start packing. I couldn't simply sit around and feel sorry for myself, not when I still had so much to do. I needed to get all the shit organized and wrapped properly so the movers didn't have to do a lot.

It had to be better than thinking about damn Nathan Grant anyway. Anything was better than that.

I decided to pack my bookshelf up first, figuring it would be a good, easy place to start, but I quickly realized just how wrong I was. Not only did I have more books than any person should ever need in their whole damn lives, but I also had some that took me right back into the past. Books I didn't even realize I had there with me, such as my high school yearbook.

Despite the warning bells ringing loudly in my brain, I flicked through the pages quickly, already knowing the image I was looking for, and soon enough, I found it. My fingers ran lightly across the picture as I drank it all in. It was me, sitting on Nathan's back, and we were both laughing wildly at something he'd just said. I loved the picture because it was filled with a pure, carefree joy, but it was also a little sad, too, because now with hindsight, I knew where this would end up.

That love in my eyes, that hope in my heart, it would all be dashed soon enough, and that was bittersweet.

I rolled my eyes and slammed the book shut, a hot fire coursing through my body. This was just fucking great; already I was a mess and I hadn't even seen him yet.