Then I saw him, Harry Hadley, two years older than me, with jet-black hair and a jaw that could cut ice, with a spark of Hades in his eyes. Shirtless, every inch of him was carved of sinful desire. I remember the way the world seemed to stop – not just time, but the whole world – when he jogged over and tweaked my ballpoint pen.
“What’re you working so hard on?” he bantered, his voice deep and every inch the suave Englishman. But there was an undertone of gruffness, too, that caused my heartbeat to hammer.
“Uh … just you, I mean, the players. The game. Notyou.”
“Hmm,” he chuckled. “I think I liked your first answer more.”
It started with secret looks thrown across the soccer field, but soon we were meeting under the bleachers, playing this game we made up called Imagine.
“Imagine,” he said once, stroking his tingling hands around my ear, brushing my hair, moving down my searing neck, “we go back to my dorm room and I show you just how incredible it can be.”
And itwas.
Fireworks danced in my mind and seared throughout my body.
Not just in bed, but everywhere, every waking second of that sun-bright trip, with Harry Hadley’s statue-sculpted body pressed up against me. We laughed. We loved.
Or …Iloved.
He was supposed to come and say goodbye at the airport. We were supposed to keep it going long-distance. I remember how I stood at the entrance gate like a fool, biting my bottom lip so hard it was a wonder I didn’t draw blood, watching and waiting for a boy that never came. The words of my horoscope from the day before came back to me:Don’t assume. Tread carefully and make sure you know the truth.
The truth. Ha.The truth was that he’d never felt for me the way I’d felt for him. He’d used me.
Then Ashley, the most popular girl on the soccer team who always wore an off-white ribbon in her hair, sidled up next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, didn’t you hear?” she jabbed. “He knocked up this girl called Gemma. That’s who he’s with now. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d managed to keep my hand from straying to my cellphone this whole time, never wanting to be the needy not-even-a-girlfriend.
But now I tore it from my pocket and called him.
“Grace, I can’t talk right now,” he said.
“What? Why? Where the hell are you? You said you’d meet me. You said this wasn’t just about sex.”
“It isn’t. Grace, I love you, but—”
“Tell me the truth. Is this about Gemma?” I snapped.
“Yes, but I’m taking care of it. This should never have happened. We’ll talk soon.”
“No,” I yelled. “We won’t again. Ever. Have a great life.”
I turned and basically ran for the gate, cutting off whatever nonsense explanation he was trying to give.The truth. Right.
“Hello,”Kelly says, waving her croissant in front of my face, pieces of pastry flaking into the air and floating back down to the table. “Earth to Grace?”
“Oh, sorry,” I mumble, shaking my head to dislodge the potent memory. “What did you say?”
“I said the past is the past. You can change it. You canrewriteit if need be.”
“Woah, what?” I grip the edge of the table, heart thundering just like it did back then. “What did you just say?”
“What? Change the past?”
“You said I could rewrite it.”
The words from the horoscope bounce meaningfully around my head.
“Yeah, so what? You can.” She tosses a piece of croissant into her mouth, munching. Once she’s swallowed, she says, “It’s true he broke your heart. But that was a long time ago. And, anyway, you have an opportunity here.”
