Still Love You

by Allie Everhart

  We were engaged for just one week. During that week, we spent every moment together; happy, excited, and talking about our future. But then Willow panicked and called off the engagement. At first I wasn't worried. Willow panics all the time. She's high strung. I'm laid back. It's one of the things that makes us work so well together. We balance each other out. But when she wouldn't talk to me for days after she gave the ring back, I started to get worried. I went to her house but she wouldn't come to the door. I called her but she wouldn't pick up. I texted her but got nothing back. Finally, her parents forced her to talk to me. They sat us in a room and wouldn't let us leave until she'd given me an explanation. And her explanation was that she couldn't see a future with me, at least not the future she wanted.

  Willow wants to be CEO of a large corporation someday. She wants to live in a big city in a high-rise apartment and drive a BMW and eat at trendy restaurants. As for me? I'm not entirely sure what my future holds but it's definitely not that. I'd be happy doing whatever odd jobs come my way. Living in a simple house. Driving a pick-up truck.

  The only thing I knew for sure about my future is that I wanted Willow to be in it. To be my wife. My best friend. And someday the mother of my children. But that didn't work out, so I need to reevaluate my future, but every time I try, something always seems to be missing. And that something is Willow.

  "I called you all those times because I wanted to talk," I say to Willow. "Just as friends."

  "I know," she murmurs, her head dropping down.

  She seems remorseful, probably wishing she'd answered at least a few of my calls. So why didn't she? The reason she gave me isn't good enough. She couldn't answer because we were broken up? That doesn't matter. We've been friends since we were kids. And friends talk to each other, even after having their hearts broken.

  "Are you mad at me?" she asks, her eyes now straight ahead.

  "I was," I say, being honest. "But I'm over it."

  I can't stay mad at her. I've never been able to. I'm not an angry person. I don't hold grudges. I was more hurt than angry after she gave me the ring back. She was hurt too. In fact, when she told me she couldn't see a future with me, she cried. Sobbed. While I held her in my arms.

  So how could I be mad at her? Breaking off our engagement hurt her as much as it hurt me. But she felt like she had to do it because she wanted a life that I didn't. I could've gone along with it and lived that life just to be with her, but I knew if I did that, I wouldn't be happy. Willow knows that too, which is why she'd never let me do it.

  After we had that talk, I packed my bags and flew to Europe. I couldn't be around Willow. We needed space. I backpacked for two weeks through different countries, taking the train and staying in youth hostels. It was always a dream of mine to do that, but I always thought I'd be doing it with Willow. We talked about it when we first started dating. We said we'd go the summer after I graduated. But then we broke up, so backpacking through Europe without her wasn't so much a dream as a heartache. For those entire two weeks, I couldn't stop thinking about her, wishing she were there with me.

  "Hey." I nudge her arm from across the seat. "The past is the past. We're still friends, right?"

  She smiles at me but it's a sad smile. "Yeah, of course."

  Why is she sad? Because I'm here? I know she doesn't want me here. I could tell by the look on her face when she saw me. I'm sure that's why her parents didn't tell her I'd be working for them this summer. She doesn't want to be faced with the past, which is what I am to her. Just a piece of her past.

  Willow doesn't like going backwards. She's always moving forward at lightning speed, which is why I never quite understood why she agreed to go out with me in the first place. She knows I don't rush through life. I take things slow, appreciate the moment, live in the here and now. But Willow? She's always racing ahead, sprinting toward whatever goals she's set for herself. Part of me admires that about her, but the other part of me wishes she wasn't like that, because by doing that, she's missing out on the present. Missing out on the moments she might want to remember someday.

  "Silas, look!" Willow perks up, pointing at the next exit. "It's that burger place we love. Do you want to stop?"

  "But your parents are making dinner."

  She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Tofu and vegetables is not dinner. I need real food and this may be my last chance to have it. Can we stop? Please?"

  I smile at her. "Only if you split a milkshake with me. And an extra large fry."

  "Yes. To all of it." She sighs and reclines back in her seat. "God, that sounds good. They have the best fries. I haven't been to this place since...well, since you left."

  She says it as though I wanted to leave. Like I had a choice in the matter. Did she really expect me to stick around? See her all summer without being able to touch her? Kiss her? Put my arms around her? Tell her I love her? It would've been torture to not be able to do those things. And it's not like I could've avoided her. She lives just a few houses down from me. We had the same friends. Hung out at the same places.

  But as hard as it would've been, I would've stayed if she'd told me to. If I thought there was any chance we might get back together, I never would've left. But that's not what happened.

  When I told Willow I was leaving, she told me to go. And when I told her I might stay in Europe and not come back, she didn't try to stop me. She made it clear we were done and that she was moving on without me. But based on her comment just now, it seems that she remembers things differently. Or maybe it's easier on her if she pretends that I left her. That I'm the one who ended things, not her.

  I park in front of Bobbi's Burger Shack. It's one of those places where you can park and order from your car. Or you can order at the window and eat at the picnic tables scattered out front.

  Willow and I used to come here all the time. Our parents, who are strict vegans, wouldn't approve of us eating burgers, which is why we never told them we came here. But one day, my mom found a Bobbi's Burger Shack cup in my car. I found it in the garbage later and knew she put it there. When she saw me, she just shook her head and mooed. I laughed and gave her a hug and told her she's an awesome mom. Because she is. She doesn't get angry over little stuff, like her son sneaking out to eat a burger, even though she's vehemently opposed to eating meat herself. She raised me to be who I am, not who she wants me to be. Willow's parents are the same way. We both got lucky that way.

  "Wait there," I tell Willow, then I go around the truck and open her door. Before she can attempt to get out, I reach around her tiny waist and lower her to the ground. She's only 5'4 and this truck sits high off the ground. I didn't want her falling out of it. I also might've wanted an excuse to touch her.

  She's wearing this red dress that had my blood pumping the moment I saw her. It's a short cotton sundress that's open in the back, showing off her soft skin that has a hint of color from the sun. My blood is still pumping hard, diverting to places it shouldn't be going. Not now, while I'm standing in the parking lot of Bobbi's Burger Shack in front of the girl I'm only supposed to be friends with.

  But it's extremely hard to control that part of me when she looks so damn good. Her dark silky hair only hit her shoulders the last time I saw her. Now it's several inches longer and sexy as hell. Her deep brown eyes still draw me in with their intensity. And those lips. I still remember how they feel, how they moved over mine when I kissed her, how they parted to let me taste her.

  "Are we going or what?" Willow's standing there, waiting for me to move. I got so caught up in her that I forgot where we were for a moment.

  "Yeah, let's go." I instinctively take her hand.

  "What are you doing?" She looks down at our hands.

  "Sorry." I let her go. "Habit."

  We always used to hold hands, even before we dated. It was just a thing we did as friends. But now she won't even let me hold her hand? Guess that just proves that what we had is over. I knew it was, and yet I held out a small glimmer of hope that may
be she'd see me again and change her mind about us. Wishful thinking. When Willow makes a decision, she sticks to it. She's stubborn as a mule.

  I go up to the order window and say, "We'll have two cheeseburgers, one with everything, the other one with a squirt of mustard, two squirts of ketchup, four pickle slices, and one very thin slice of tomato."

  The teenage girl at the window stares at me like she thinks I was joking. I wasn't. That's how Willow likes her burger. She's very particular and she knows what she wants.

  "You might want to write that down." I give the girl my famous Silas smile and her annoyed expression turns to a flirtatious grin combined with a head tilt.

  She holds her pen above her order pad. "Could you repeat that, please?"

  "Sure." I repeat the order as the girl scribbles it down while keeping her eyes on me.

  I hear Willow clearing her throat behind me, then feel a sharp jab in my side. "Don't forget the fries. And the shake."

  What was the jab for? Is Willow jealous that I'm flirting with the girl at the counter? I did it for her benefit. Just wanted to make sure she got her burger the way she wanted it. Or maybe, just maybe, I wanted to see if she'd get jealous. Willow is the jealous type. If you told her that, she'd forcefully deny it, but we both know it's true.

  "We'll also take an extra large fry and a large chocolate shake," I say, getting my wallet out.

  "With two cups," Willow adds. "And two straws."

  After all Willow and I have done together, I don't know why she cares about sharing a straw with me. My mouth has been all over her body, and hers on mine. Just the thought of that causes blood to rush to that place it shouldn't be going.

  "I can pay." Willow sets a twenty on the counter.

  I slide it back to her, my eyes on the girl taking the order. "How much?"

  "It's $12.85."

  I hand her a ten and a five. "Keep the change."

  "What's your name?" she asks, her fingers purposely sliding over mine as she takes the money.

  Willow coughs, then clears her throat.

  "Silas," I say, flashing that smile again.

  The girl writes my name on the order slip, then writes something else on the back of the receipt and hands it to me. "Your food will be out in a minute."

  The twenty Willow left is still sitting there so I take it and walk back to the table we always used to sit at. It's around the side of the building facing an empty lot. It isn't great in terms of atmosphere but that's why we chose it. Nobody ever wanted to sit here so we always got the table. It also gave us privacy, which we needed because sometimes our PDA got a little out of control. When Willow and I were dating, we couldn't take our hands off each other. Or our lips. Our tongues. I need to stop thinking about that. It's causing an uncomfortable throbbing below the belt, and is inappropriate given that Willow and I are just friends and have no hope of being anything more.

  "Why were you flirting with her?" Willow asks as she slams a stack of napkins down on the table. By her tone and forceful handling of the napkins, I can tell she's jealous. I'm just not sure why. I'm not hers. She has no reason to be jealous. Unless...I chuckle.

  "What's so funny?" She sits across from me instead of beside me like she used to do.

  "Nothing." I take a couple napkins from the tall stack. "That's a lot of napkins. Your mom would not be happy. A tree had to lose its life for all those."

  "Don't start. I'll get enough of that this summer."

  Our parents are staunch environmentalists. They use almost no paper products. Only cloth napkins are allowed and Willow's mom makes her use the same cloth napkin for the entire day, unless it's a messy meal that really dirties the napkin.

  "Here." I reach across the table and pick up Willow's hand and place the twenty dollar bill in it, letting my fingers graze her palm. She inhales sharply at my touch, then quickly fists her hand around the money and pulls it back from me. She used to love it when I'd run my fingers over her skin. Not just her palm, but all of her. She said I had magic fingers, able to cause a response in her with just the slightest touch.

  "You didn't have to pay," she says, shoving the money in her wallet.

  "And you didn't have to jab my side when I was giving that girl our order."

  "I didn't jab your side." She takes the stack of napkins and evenly distributes them between her and me. She likes things to be even. It's part of her need to have order. Disorder drives her crazy, which makes living with her parents a challenge.

  "You jabbed me so hard I think you bruised my ribs." I lift up my shirt and her eyes go straight to my abs. Her gaze lingers there a moment, then she quickly glances away.

  "I didn't bruise you. You look...fine." She sits up straighter and looks out toward the small road that goes by the restaurant, watching as a cyclist goes by. "So why were you flirting with her? You don't live here. It's not like you could date her."

  "I wasn't flirting. I was just giving her my order." I stretch my legs out under the table, letting them brush against Willow's.

  She crosses her legs and turns to me. "You were giving her the Silas smile. No girl can resist that and you know it. You were definitely flirting."

  "Why do you care?" I nudge her leg with mine and keep it there. I know I shouldn't keep touching her but I can't help it. I haven't seen her forever and now that she's here, I have this need to touch her, even in just an innocent way. I'm a very tactile person. Touch is a way I communicate, sometimes without even knowing it.

  "I don't care," she says in a tone that implies the opposite. "Do what you want. I just don't think you should flirt with some girl you have no intention of asking out. You're leading her on."

  "A person can flirt without having it go anywhere."

  "Then what's the purpose?"

  Typical Willow logic at work. She has to have an answer to everything. An answer that makes sense to her.

  "There doesn't have to be a purpose." I know that comment will get her going, but I put it out there anyway.

  "Of course there does. You can't just do something for no reason."

  "Fine." I lean across the table and give her that Silas smile she was referring to. "I flirted with her so she'd get your order correct. I'm sure they're not used to having to follow such specific guidelines for making a burger. I was just making sure they got it right."

  She sighs. "I appreciate your efforts but you don't have to resort to selling your body just to get my order correct."

  I laugh and sit back. "I wasn't selling my body. It was just a smile."

  "I think that girl would like more than that." Willow holds up the receipt, which has a phone number written on back with the words 'call me.'

  "Huh. I wondered what she wrote on there." I take the receipt and shove it in my pocket.

  "You're keeping it?" Willow looks disgusted with me.

  I shrug. "You never know."

  "Never know what?"

  Before I can answer, our food arrives, delivered by a short, scrawny kid who doesn't look legally old enough to work. He's probably the little brother of the girl at the register. They look similar.

  "Wait." Willow stops him before he leaves. "Could you get us another cup for the milkshake? And another straw?"

  He nods and walks off.

  I set the basket of fries between us as Willow inspects her burger, lifting the top of the bun.

  "Is it the way you wanted it?" I ask.

  "Yes. It's perfect." She puts the bun back in place. "But your flirting trick didn't completely work. She forgot the cup and the straw."

  "That's because you asked for that, not me." I smile, then take a big bite of my burger.

  "Whatever," she mumbles, picking up a fry.

  She eats fries one at a time, whereas I grab several and eat them all at once. That's why we always shared an order. It would take Willow forever to finish a basket of fries on her own, eating them one at a time like that.

  I wonder if she shares her fries when she goes out with other guys. I try not t
o think about that. Thinking about her with another guy makes me angry and I never get angry. Except when it comes to Willow. She brings out all my emotions. The good, the bad, the in-between. This girl gets to me the way no one else can.

  When I left two years ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever see her again, and now, working for her parents, I'll see her every day.

  This is going to be a very interesting summer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Willow

  How am I going to survive the summer? I've been with Silas for all of two hours and I'm already a complete and utter mess. For the past two years, I've been so put together, my emotions kept in check, my sole focus on my career. I've avoided any type of long term relationships, knowing that getting serious with a guy will only lead me to the same place I ended up with Silas; having a conversation about how we're heading down different paths and therefore need to break up. I know exactly what I want for my life and I'm not going to change my plans for some guy.

  But that doesn't mean I don't date. Last year at college, I went to a lot of parties, did my fair share of flirting, and went on a decent number of dates. I just didn't let those dates lead to anything serious. Even if I wanted a serious relationship with a guy, it wouldn't be with any of the guys I've dated since Silas left.

  I hate to admit this, but being with Silas ruined me for all other guys. Now I expect every guy I date to make me feel like I did when I was with Silas, which isn't fair. Nobody will make me feel that way again. Silas was my first love and there's something special about that. The feelings I had for him just aren't going to happen with someone else, so I need to accept that, but so far I haven't.

  "I don't think that kid's ever bringing an extra cup," I say, setting my burger down. I've devoured half of it within a matter of minutes, which is fast for me. I'm usually a slow eater.

  These burgers are the best I've ever had and this one is especially good because they made it exactly the way I asked, or the way Silas asked, with that famous smile of his. He flashes that easygoing smile and I swear, girls go into some kind of trance and do whatever he asks.