This sound was almost always reserved for Anderson Anthony Cole.
I heard his footsteps behind me stop briefly after I laughed awkwardly, and then they picked up again- not missing a beat behind my own.
We head back into the restaurant, with Ander walking before me. Izzy and Maverick are beaming with joy, but I can see the surprise in their eyes. They didn't expect both of us to return, especially not together.
Ander and I approach their table, and he suddenly stops and turns towards me.
"You can say no if you want, but would you like to get our own table?" he asks. I don't respond; I hold his gaze and nod. He returns my nod.
"Alright, you wait here for a second."
He walks towards the hostess stand. As he brushes past me, his shoulder lightly touches mine, and suddenly, my entire body is awakened and aware of his presence.
As Dr. Carr likes to remind me, I've spent so many years building up my walls for protection and to keep me safely guarded. In less than five minutes of being in his company, I can feel those walls coming down fiercely and abruptly. How can we become practically strangers after six years, yet his presence still has the same effect on me?
The reality of what's unfolding is starting to sink in, and the magnitude of it all is not lost on me. Pushing Ander away was my way of assuring his happiness because, following life rearing its ugly head my way, I knew I couldn't give him the love, energy, and joy he deserved—the same things he gave to me so effortlessly.
Sure, Liam's threat forced my hand, but I knew I couldn't be the person he deserved. I knew he would never give up on me, so I had to decide for him.
Yet, here I am, about to sit down and talk to him after six years of no contact. What do we even say? What is there to say after so much time has passed?
We don't even know each other anymore. The realization of that breaks my heart instantly. There was once a time when no one in this world knew me better than Ander did.
He knew me truly, from the inside out. He was the person who could read my mind just by studying my face briefly. He couldcomplete my sentences because he always seemed to know what was coming next, and I was that person for him, too.
He once said everyone had a perception of him, but I was the only one who truly knew his spirit and understood his soul. Now, neither of us knows anything regarding the other. Many things can change in six years.
The man I'm about to sit with at a table isn't the boy I knew, and I am damn sure not the same girl he once loved.
As if she could sense the panic washing over me, slowly consuming me as each second passed, Izzy reached out of the booth and grabbed my hands.
"Breathe, V. It's just one conversation. A conversation that he's tried to have with you for years. It wasn't planned, but maybe it was always meant to happen this way. Just give him this one night," she says softly, gently, each word resignating with me.
I take a sharp, deep breath and straighten my shoulders. As much as I hate to admit it, Izzy is right. It's one conversation.
She doesn't understand what one conversation with Ander could do to my heart. The stubborn thing still beats for him; I'm unsure if it can take this.
I let out a defeated 'humph,' still trying to process the fact that this is happening.
The hostess leads us to a table on the restaurant's other side, which is far less busy. The tables are spaced further apart, making it feel more secluded and personal.
Did Ander specifically ask for this side? I breathe to calm myself and try not to let panic creep back in.
Ander pulls out my chair for me and motions a hand for me to take a seat. He's always been thoughtful and has tried to make small gestures like this. I've never been a girl who cared if a guy opened a door for me or pulled a chair for me, but when it happens, it's nice. It makes you feel special. Worthy, even. Not that it's ever happened for me with anyone other than him because it hasn't.
He takes his seat directly across from me, pulling his phone from his pocket, silencing it, and pushing it back into his pocket. I try not to stare, but his aura makes it difficult. His presence draws me in, just like it always has.
The waitress takes our drink orders before a single word can be spoken, thankfully breaking the silence and my gaze. I need to ease my mind and order a glass of wine. I assume he needs the same liquid courage as he orders a crown and coke. I can't help but grin smugly.Crown and coke. It was the first alcoholic beverage I ever tried.
Jett had snuck a bottle of Crown Royal from their dad's stash and made us each a drink before he left. He walked off with a girl he met the previous day down by the shoreline, leaving Ander and me to share our firstillegaldrinkalone.
"It's the only alcoholic thing I've ever drank besides beer." He says, as his lips form into a line, slightly curving at the edges. His eye contact is intense, and his gaze on me is somewhat intimidating. I can tell he's trying to read and figure me out. If he only knew that I'm no longer the open book I once was. I'm now tarnished. The copy that was left out in the storm, pages worn, and quality diminished drastically. Even if he can read me, he won't want to. I'm no longer who I was. I'm not who he loved. How do I tell him that? There's so much hope in his eyes. A hope that I didn't want to see again because I knew all I could do wasruin it. Tangled up with the glimmer dancing in his eyes is a mix of fear and maybe a little anger. I don't blame him for any of those feelings; they're all valid.
"It's okay to ask your questions; I know you must have plenty," I say softly, sadness laced into each word. A flash of pain fills his creamy brown eyes.
I can't take it.
I know the pain I've caused because I brought the same pain upon myself. I can't stand being reminded that he felt and suffered through it, too, at the hands of my decisions. I break our gaze as the words leave my lips. My eyes drop to my hands, both placed on the table. I focus hard on them. I notice their small structure and the sweat starting to bead from them out of pure nervousness.
