by Sally Henson
“Sorry.” Matt shakes his head. “I don’t remember, it’s been too long ago.”
“Lane, do you know anything about this?” Linc and Lane were friends. Not as close as they once were, but still friends.
He glowers at me. “I would’ve told you if I knew anything at all.”
Regret fills me for even suggesting it and I bite my lip. “I know … sorry.”
“Linc was my best friend. I didn't want to see him go down the rabbit hole of self-destruction. I'd seen too many people never come out of it. So, I told him he better get himself together or he'd end up like Will.”
“Will?” I question who Will is.
“A guy we both knew who started drinking because of family problems. Will fell fast. He ended up getting kicked out of school, and he had to pay back his scholarship. Will had to work a job paying barely above minimum wage. He's still drinking himself to death.”
“Dang,” Lane mumbles.
Matt dips his head and gives Lane a warning. “Yeah, keep that in mind, Lane.”
“What was the deal with this girl?” This is the first time I knew anything about a problem with a girl. Nothing should surprise me about all the silent drama surrounding Linc’s disappearance.
“I just know she was involved somehow, that’s it.”
“Why did you tell him to join the Navy?” Hurt rises from the past two years, lingering in my voice.
Matt leans forward. “I didn't tell him to join the Navy.” His words come out almost pleadingly, as if he's saying it to Linc. “That next Monday, he was back in classes and studying. I thought he was going to change his major at the end of the semester. There were only a few weeks left. I couldn't believe he joined up. He never said a word to me about it until it was done and over with.” He sighs and looks at his books in front of him. “It’s a shame he gave up.” He clears his throat. “He left for basic training and I never heard from him again.” He snorts, leaning back in his chair. “I miss that SOB.”
I slouch down and rest my head on the back of the chair. “Me, too.”
Matt's phone beeps. “I'm sorry, Regan, but I have somewhere I need to be.” He closes the books and puts his tablet in his pack. “He talked about you, though. He loved you and was proud of who you were becoming.” He chuckles, “One time, I was trying to give him a hard time about you dating. He told me you'd be the boss and would kick any guy’s ass that wouldn't submit to you.”
Lane laughs.
That little tidbit perks me up. A smile spreads across my face.
“That's close enough.” Lane eyes me with a smirk and a twinkle in his eyes.
Suddenly, the feeling of loss comes over me. “I feel like we're talking about him as if he's dead.”
Matt stands. “When someone is cut out of your life, it does feel like they've died. Sometimes we’re left mourning the living.” I'm staring at a genius and am in awe of the wisdom that left this man's lips. “Next time you visit, I'll buy you a coffee, okay, Regan? Lane, you be sure to let me know.”
Lane stands and shakes his hand. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Warren. “
“I'm always Matt outside of class.”
Lane smiles and nods.
I need to get out of my cloud and say goodbye. “Uh, thanks, Matt. It was really great meeting you. Thank you so much.”
“If you hear from Linc, you tell him I said he owes me a visit—or a phone call at the very least.”
I nod my head.
“Will do.” Lane answers for me. He rubs my arm as we watch Matt disappear down the stairwell. “Are you mad?” His voice is soft and yielding.
“No.” I shake my head. “At you? No, why would I be mad?” I look up at him and he meets my gaze.
His lips twist off to the side. “I wasn't sure you'd want to talk to a complete stranger, but I knew he had answers to some of your questions.” He glides his hand across my shoulders, down my arm to entwine his fingers with mine.
I need his touch, his support, the comfort I normally feel around him. “This was a good idea. I would’ve never guessed this surprise.” I manage a smile, though bringing this all to the forefront of my thoughts again is kind of an emotional time bomb ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tears begin to blur my vision. “Warning,” my voice cracks. “Tears are about to fall or maybe spew out of my eyes. I just need a couple minutes. Okay?”
He nods, gently squeezing my fingers.
The muscles in my chest and stomach tighten, eyes continue to sting, all a forewarning of what’s about to happen. I let go of Lane’s hand and trudge toward the tall windows overlooking the clock tower and its courtyard. Tears slowly drop one by one down my cheeks. My legs begin to quiver. Reliving the past can be grueling. I press my back against the wall and let my body slide down to the floor. I hate crying.
Lane sits beside me, shoulder to shoulder. It doesn't take long for him to take a piece of my hair and play with it.
I'm trying hard to sort out everything Matt said. I don't even remember the last time Linc's name rolled off my dad's tongue. Any time I tried to ask him—well, let’s just say it was a bad experience, and I didn't even get any answers. I’ve found out more talking to a stranger than I have from the people close to me. Linc wouldn't give me any answers the night he showed up in August. He said he'd keep in touch—I haven't heard a peep from him since that night.
People come and go in the courtyard. It looks like it might snow. Now’s not the time to lose it, it's a time to think this over. I need to figure out why it was such a big deal to Dad that Linc not change his major. It might take some finesse that I'm not sure I have.
“Has Lincoln ever called you? Contacted you at all?” I keep my eyes focused out the window.
“No. I haven't heard anything out of him. I’ve tried calling him a couple times.”
“Will you try to call him? Right now?”
Lane pulls his phone out and searches for Linc's number. “Here.” He hands me his phone and I press the green button.
Butterflies dance nervously in my stomach for some reason. It rings and rings. Finally Linc’s voice mail answers. “Linc, it’s Regan. You said you’d keep in touch, but I haven't heard anything from you. Please call me.” I hang up and stare at the phone in my lap for a minute and sniff. It dings with a text message from J, “Got your notes.”
Lane snatches the phone from my grasp and slides it in his coat pocket.
I glance up to his face. The muscles in his jaw flex before he begins to chew on the inside of his cheek. Biting the inside of his cheek is usually his tell, a sign of complete annoyance over something. I feel bad enough that Linc felt like he couldn’t tell me about the issues between him and Dad. Now Lane is acting like he doesn’t want to be here.
The pressure of my chest caving increases. I turn away from him, watching the people in the courtyard, his people. I didn’t ask Lane to blow off his classes and give me a tour of campus.
“I didn’t ask you to skip class for me. I can tell you don’t want to be here.” I’m not sure which hurts more. Linc not trusting me or Lane not wanting to be here with me.
“Of course, I want to be here with you. I wanted you to meet Mr. Warren, Matt.”
“You snatched the phone out of my hands when Joe texted you. I can tell by looking at you how annoyed you are.” I scoff out a grunt and stand. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Lane quickly stands, grasping my shoulders to hold me in place. “I’m not annoyed with you. Maybe surprising you was Tobi’s idea, but I thought it was brilliant. Especially after I was such a jerk over the weekend.” He pulls me in for a quick hug with my arms dangling at my sides.
The mixed vibes he’s giving me are making this day, this whole week, even more confusing. I think I’m too on edge to have a conversation about what’s going on with us. It’s probably best to drop it for now.
Lane silently leads me to the bathroom without asking me if I’m okay. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
When I look in the m
irror I laugh out loud at myself. Crazy hair, splotchy face, snotty nose—I’m a train-wreck. Only Tobi could fix this. I wash my hands and clean up the best I can. With wet fingers, I comb through my hair and smooth it down before I situate Tobi's hat back on my head. It’s as good as I can do.
The cold, crisp outdoor breeze hits my face and fills my lungs. It feels good, lifting a bit of the weight of uncertainty on my shoulders. It burns in my chest, cleansing me of the gut-wrenching perplexity of information Matt so graciously gave me.
Lane pulls his phone out and sends a text to the girls to meet us for a mini-tour of the science department.
27
Regan
Tobi practically shoves me into Lane outside the fast food restaurant, twisting our arms together. I tried to tell her in the bathroom that Lane has a different life here, and it doesn’t include me, but she kept telling me I am his life. Maybe she didn’t notice how many girls waved at him while they were eating. She thinks she convinced me. Obviously, she’s not listening to reason and I’m not in the mood to put up a fight.
“Have fun!” Haylee sings as she and Tobi wave to us on their way back to the science department.
Lane begins to lead us down the sidewalk. “Next stop on the V.I.P. tour is a coffee house on the south side of campus for dessert.” He tells me how he’s learned to like coffee and how the caffeine helps him study.
I listen quietly for about a block. “Listen, I know this was Tobi’s big plan, but you don’t need to do this for her.”
He purses his lips together. “Are you still mad at me for sleeping all weekend?”
I laugh out a puff of air. Is he kidding? “I was never mad at you for sleeping. Worried, yeah, but not mad.”
“I’m not doing this for Tobi. How many times do I get the chance to spend all day with you during the week like this?”
A couple crosses in front of us. The guy calls out to Lane. Lane says something back to them.
When I came up here with the gang to see the football game with Lane, it seemed different. I loved the buildings and being on campus; I thought I was ready for the college life. Now it’s more like I don’t belong here.
“I don’t fit in here.” My arm reaches toward the couple that passed us. “You have all these new friends here that I don’t know. This is your life and I don’t belong.” I barely get the words out before my voice quivers. Ugh, watching his new life play out all over campus makes me realize how estranged we are. The breeze dries most of my tears before they slide down my cheek.
Lane stops our momentum and turns to face me. He looks at me with brows hanging low over his crystalline eyes, as if he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. “You think you don’t belong in my life?”
I don’t respond.
“Just because I have friends here doesn’t mean you don’t belong, Regan. I can’t sit in my room twenty-four-seven.”
“Linc, Susanna, they both say you’ll have a different life here. That we’ll be living in different worlds.” I look down, my heart heavier than it’s been since Sunday. “It’s true.”
“It’s only true if that’s what you want.” He wipes the bead of moisture trickling down my face.
I shiver. Partly because it’s cold, partly because I wanted to hear him say those words. My eyes skim up his jeans and coat to his face, as I shake my head no.
“I know I can’t kiss you in public, but I want to so bad right now.” He holds both my hands in his, glancing back and forth between my eyes and lips.
“Me too.” I lick my lips and press them together, imagining the warmth of his lips.
The wind gusts from the north. Red, gold, and orange fall leaves are being whisked away in what’s becoming a nor’easter. The temperature continues to drop from this morning, and my teeth are beginning to chatter.
Lane puts his arm around me, pulling me behind a tree to block the strong wind gust. We hunker together, nose to nose. “We need to get you warmed up.”
I nod with my teeth still chattering. “Warm sunny beach.”
His eyebrows pop up. “Would you wear a bikini on this warm sunny beach of yours?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head, avoiding any eye contact.
“What?” He squirms around, trying to move his face in front of mine, forcing me to look at him. “It’s a simple question.” His ornery smile is so cute.
My teeth stop chattering. The heat rising from my chest covering my neck and cheeks have taken the chill out of me. He’s flirting with me, but I still feel like an outsider in his life here.
He chuckles, still trying to get me to look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”
I shake my head, pushing him away. “I think you know why.”
“Ahh, I’ve seen you in a swimsuit millions of times.” He grabs my hand before I can get away and leads us back on the sidewalk again. The wind dies down, leaving a touch of fall clinging to the branches of the trees.
“Okay, okay. I won’t talk about your nice outline. Ooo, I might get you a bikini for Christmas, though.”
I know he’s teasing me and let loose of his fingers to backhand him in the gut. His muscles were tightened, ready and waiting for it.
He laughs, linking my arm in his.
He’s talking about my outline and me in a bikini? I don’t wear bikinis. It’s embarrassing. He’s making my insides jittery, uncomfortable … but I kind of like it too. My chest fills with a rush of fizzy bubbles. Is that okay? Is it okay I like that he notices my outline? Another wave of heat flushes my skin and there’s no longer blustering wind to mask it.
“Look!” Lane holds his palm out in front of us, catching a small speck of snow. “It never snows this early.” His eyes are bright and excited. A few small flakes float down to the ground, melting when they hit the concrete.
“It’s so beautiful, with the campus in the background.” I don’t like the cold, but falling snow with a backdrop like this is so pretty. “Like those old-timey postcards.”
My chest isn’t caving in anymore, but it still aches. I want to mend these broken pieces between us. “Hey, what about your classes? How’re you going to know what to do?”
“Some of them go strictly by the syllabus. That makes it easy to catch up. But I’ve got a couple people getting assignments and notes from my other classes.” Lane points to our left, directing me, as we turn off the main thoroughfare of campus. “Almost there.”
“Good, I could use some hot tea.” Now that my mark of embarrassment has left me, I’m starting to get chilled again. “And water, I'm thirsty.” I think I’m dehydrated.
“I'm getting you their house cocoa. It's so good.”
“I like cocoa.” I glance up at him with a smile that won’t leave my lips.
He sings back to me, “I know you like cocoa.” I like that he knows this about me.
Lane points to a small two-story brick building on the corner ahead of us that has windows lining the front and side like those old 1950s department store windows. “That’s it. Jacked Up Panther House. Everyone calls it The House.”
He tells me about Ross’s band members and how Ross gives him a hard time about dating a junior in high school. My heart drops into my stomach. Lane laughs, and says the guy wouldn’t know a good thing if she smacked him across the face.
I smile and go along with it, but the reality is … it’s true. I am only a junior in high school. I do have two more years before we can be together like this; talking and laughing and walking arm-in-arm every day on campus together. Though he didn’t mean to, his words ripped a scab off my insecurities. I take a deep breath and quickly bandage it, shoving it out of my mind.
A group of girls come out of the building. They call out to him one at a time. “Hi, Lane,” wiggling their fingers as they hold their hands up by their pretty little faces. A dark-haired, dark-skinned beauty says she missed him in class this morning.
“How was class? Anything I need to know about?” We stop beside the car they’re getting int
o.
Every one of them is gawking at him and glaring at me as if I they can’t believe he’s walking with me. I do feel out of place. One dagger per set of eyes is enough for me. I slink away, fully aware he didn’t introduce me or even acknowledge me.
Lane catches up to me just in time to open the door to a sea of bodies and a billow of coffee aroma inside Panther House. It’s so full of people, I already feel the pressure of the room closing in on me. We wait in the line leading to the order counter amid the hustle, bustle, and noise coming from all around us.
How can it be a choice? He does live in a different world. As we get closer, I check out the array of desserts on display. Lane whispers facts about the place and his favorite drinks and dessert. He points to amazing artwork and photographs scattered on the brick walls, all pieces by students. They're quite impressive—some beautiful, some eclectic, and some just plain weird. When he’s finished, I’m struggling not to feel like the outsider I am.
Lane orders, and the guy behind the counter yells out the order to the barista. I don't know how they keep everything straight. It's a welcoming distraction to watch them take one order after another. They've got to be hopped up on coffee beans to do this job.
Lane points out a tiny table in the corner for me to snag, while he waits for our drinks at the counter. I serpentine through the small round and rectangular tables outlined in a variety of chairs. Along the side wall are a couple of plush sofas. Nearly every table and chair is taken by college-aged kids and maybe a few professors.
I hang my coat on the back of my seat, but keep my scarf. It’s a little chilly by these single-paned windows. The condensation has built a charming fog across them. It filters the outdoors and makes the snow flurries look like a Thomas Kincaid painting. The noise level’s high. I move the chairs closer together so we can hear each other without talking too loud.
I want so badly for Susanna and Linc and Dad to be wrong. I want Lane to be right. How can I be part of his life here?
Lane brings my hot cocoa, slipping off his coat to hang on his chair.