Twists in Time

by Various

  “Scott!” she yelled, wincing at the terror in her voice. Calm down, she scolded herself. In a much more controlled tone, she added, “Please wait.”

  He stopped, removed his hand from the gate, and jammed it in his pocket. He didn’t turn to face her. Why should he? She had been so mean to him and deserved whatever punishment he dealt her. God knows she beat herself up enough about it over the years. If she couldn’t forgive herself, why should he?

  He was really here, standing before her. Once again, her vision blurred as the tears flowed freely. How long had she wanted to hold him, to hear his voice, and here he was. She stopped behind him, an arm’s length away. She had to put her own hands in the pockets of her jeans to keep herself from touching him, from proving to herself that he was really standing before her, warm and full of life.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so quiet she wondered if he even heard her.

  He turned and stared at her, his hurt expression changing to one of disbelief. “You’re apologizing? Since when do you apologize?” His skeptical eyes swept over her body, and the disbelief became confusion. “How did you change so quickly and manage to cut your hair? I was talking to you five minutes ago.”

  “Oh… uh.” Mallory touched her hair self-consciously, only then remembering that she’d cut her hair short a month after Scott’s funeral. When he knew her, it had hung halfway down her back. The cut had been drastic, to match the change in her life. She had gone to a pixie and donated the hair to Locks of Love. It was at the suggestion of her friend, Nikki, who thought Mallory would be able to make a new start if she truly looked different, too. It didn’t work, her days were as bleak as ever without her best friend, but it was a nice thought. At any rate, someone was able to use her hair, someone who needed it more than her. She kept her hair short after that, even though years had passed, because it was the one, easy thing left in her life.

  She racked her brain for an explanation. None came, but thankfully, Scott saved her from needing one. “It looks good on you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He grinned at her, the lopsided one that always made her heart melt. In typical Scott fashion, he thought of her before himself. He must’ve figured she was worried about whether he liked it or not.

  She patted her hair once more and gave him a big smile, mostly out of relief that she didn’t need to come up with an explanation. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

  He took a step to close the distance between them and looked down at her with his warm, brown eyes. “I like it,” he said softly. “I like it a lot.”

  She swallowed nervously, and her eyes widened. Scott was clearly making a pass at her. Two years ago, she had been so consumed in her own feelings for him, her own embarrassment that he only thought of her as a friend, that she didn’t realize he had feelings for her, too. A little older and wiser, she could see it now, the way he swallowed nervously, the way his eyes darted to her lips and his hands twitched as if they wanted to hold her.

  Mallory couldn’t control herself any longer. If a move was going to be made, it was up to her. Scott would never risk their friendship. She’d already lost him once; she was willing to take the chance this time. Standing on tiptoe, she placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned in, and kissed him. It was meant to be quick and innocent, but Scott wrapped his arms around her, clearly with something else in mind. His mouth took control and in the process, took her breath away. When they stepped apart, he looked as shocked as she felt, and they were both struggling for breath.

  “Wow.” Touching her fingers to her lips, Mallory studied him. She wanted to absorb every detail of his face, like the small, silver scar on his nose from where she scratched him. They had been ten years old at the time, playing Marco Polo in the pool. The memory made her smile softly. It was an accident, and yet, even at that young age, she’d branded him as hers. A light splatter of freckles marched across his nose. Had he always had them? When she realized her crush on him at age fifteen, she stopped looking too closely at his face, fearing he might catch her at it. Now, she couldn’t get enough. She wanted to stare at him forever. She reached up and ran her finger along the freckles, connecting the dots. His lips slowly curled into a mischievous smile.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She ignored his question and frowned in memory. “I haven’t been very nice to you. I’ve taken you for granted for a long time.”

  His brows drew together, and he pulled her against his chest in a tight hug. “What are you talking about, Mal? You’re my best friend.” As he talked, his chin bounced on the top of her head. “I hate when we fight.”

  “Me too.”

  Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her back and looked into her eyes, his famous grin making another appearance. “Are we going to talk about that kiss?”

  Her heart raced, and her eyes focused on his full lips before returning to his eyes. “I’d rather just kiss you again,” she said boldly.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The boy could kiss. Her toes curled, and her heart raced. She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his back, the lean muscle jumping under her touch. His hand slid to her waist, fingers running along her exposed skin, shooting sparks through her.

  A car horn sounded, followed by a series of catcalls. They broke apart, flushed and panting.

  “Wow,” Scott said.

  “Wow,” Mallory agreed.

  “If I don’t get that ice cream, your mom’s going to have my head.” He took her hand. “Do you want to come with me to the store?”

  “I’d love to,” she said. As if she would let him out of her site now.

  “Great.” He tugged her hand. “Let’s go get my car.”

  The car. The accident. In her mind, she saw the mangled blue Honda Civic, practically folded in half after it was hit by a semi-truck. Scott had no chance.

  “Let’s walk,” she said, and hoped he didn’t notice the quaver in her smile. “It’s a gorgeous day.”

  And it was. The sun was shining, warm on her skin. It was a gentle spring morning, not hot, so the ice cream should survive the journey.

  “Since when do you like exercise?” The suspicion was back in Scott’s eyes.

  Her answer was automatic. “Since it gave me an excuse to have more time alone with you.” He grinned at that and squeezed her hand. “When we get back to the house, Tommy won’t leave you alone.”

  Scott laughed. “True enough. Considering he’s like my own brother, I don’t mind.”

  “I know you don’t.” Mallory’s voice grew soft as she remembered how devastated Tommy was at Scott’s death. He wasn’t the same kid after.

  Scott paused and turned her to him. He looked deep into her eyes. “Are you okay? You seem… different.” He fluffed her hair. “Beyond the haircut, I mean.”

  She nodded. “I’m just happy that we’ve made up. I missed you.” She bit her lip, not meaning to add the last part. Her sixteen-year-old self wouldn’t miss him. She saw him every day. Luckily, Scott didn’t seem to read into it. He just laughed and ruffled her hair again.

  “Missed me? How could you? We’re seldom apart.”

  “I—” Okay, I better come up with something quick, Mallory thought, deciding that admitting her feelings to him might be the way to go. After all, she had already kissed him, and that worked out. “I’ve been so overwhelmed by my crush on you.” The words rushed out, and she gulped.

  Scott jerked to a stop and stared at her, making her feel that much more self-conscious.

  Still, she plowed on. “I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t enjoy our friendship anymore. Every second I spent with you was in self-doubt and worry that you didn’t feel the same.”

  “Oh, Mal.” Once again he tugged on her hands and pulled her into his arms. She heard the quick beat of his heart and felt his nervous swallows. “How could you doubt that I feel the same about you? I’ve been trying to figure out how to kiss you for the last six months.�
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  She drew back and looked at him. Was he serious? “You have?”

  “Would I lie about that?” He leaned down and kissed her sweetly. “I love you, Mallory. I always have.”

  Her heart swelled. At the same time, she fought to hold back tears. How much had she lost, just by being selfish? The last two years could’ve been spent in Scott’s arms instead of only seeing him in her dreams—and nightmares, when she relived his funeral over and over again. Was she being given a second chance? Could she truly save him this time? Maybe she already had. After all, they were walking to the store. He didn’t take his car, so he couldn’t end up in the accident. That had to count for something, right?

  Her heart felt considerably lighter now that her confession was out of the way. They quickened their pace. The grocery store was only a block ahead, its yellow sign visible in the distance.

  The intersection before the store was a busy one. Luckily, it was signed, and they waited for the walk signal. When the light changed, Scott moved to step off the curb. The hairs on Mallory’s neck stood on end. Something was wrong. She felt in in her bones.

  “Are you coming?” he asked, one foot in the street walk, the other still on the curb. His hand squeezed hers gently.

  A flash of silver caught Mallory’s eye, and she tugged Scott toward her, throwing him off balance and toppling them both onto the sidewalk. Her head hit the concrete, and he crushed her body beneath his much heavier one. Tires screeched, and the unmistakable sound of crunching metal blared a few feet behind them. If she hadn’t moved Scott, he would’ve been crushed between the silver sedan and the streetlight. Dead again.

  “Jesus, Mallory,” he breathed near her ear. “You just saved my life.”

  He rolled off her, his expression stunned. Mallory’s head pounded from where it met the unforgiving cement. She reached back and tentatively touched it, wincing at the pain. Her fingers came away bloody.

  “You’re hurt.” His awed expression turned to fear. “Can you sit up?”

  “I think so.” She took the hand he offered. He placed the other on her back and helped her to sit. Her vision swam and then steadied. He scooted behind her, and she felt his fingers delicately moving her hair as he studied her wound.

  “You have a bit of road burn, but the cuts are shallow.” He moved to her side and looked in her eyes, keeping his arm around her for balance. “You might have a slight concussion, though. Do you want to try standing?”

  She nodded slowly, testing for dizziness. It seemed to be okay. “We need to check on the driver, anyway.”

  Scott helped her stand. When he saw she was steady, his hand moved to claim hers again. Together, they walked to the car.

  The driver was slumped over the steering wheel. Several other cars had stopped. A man opened the driver side door and jumped back, waving his hand in front of his face. He looked up at Scott and Mallory. “This bastard is stone-cold drunk.” He placed his fingers on the driver’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “He doesn’t appear to be hurt. It looks like he passed out after he got sick all over himself.” He shook his head sadly and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the cops. You kids are damn lucky, and so is he for that matter. He was almost a murderer.”

  The man walked past them and stood off to the side. Soon, they heard him providing information to a dispatcher.

  “Do we need to stay?” Mallory asked.

  “We better,” Scott said. “They’ll want a statement. How’s your head? Will you be okay?”

  “I’m all right. The dizziness is gone.”

  A middle-aged woman with graying brown hair walked over to them and offered Mallory a handful of fast-food napkins. “My kids are so messy,” she said, “I always keep a supply of these in my glove box. I thought you might need some.”

  “Thank you.” Mallory took the napkins and gently pressed one to the back of her head. The first one came away bloody, but the next one was better. Scott was right. The cuts weren’t too deep, although they would make brushing her hair painful for a while.

  The woman studied them with a kind expression. Finally, she said, “I saw you pull your friend away from the curb seconds before the car hit. How did you respond so fast?”

  Mallory shrugged, her face burning as both Scott and the woman waited for her answer. “Something didn’t feel right to me, and then I caught a flash of silver with my eyes. I just went with my gut.”

  “Good thing you did.” She patted Mallory’s arm in a motherly gesture. “You saved his life.”

  The words rang through Mallory’s head. First, the man said it, now the woman who had been nowhere near them when the man spoke. Was it a sign? Had she saved Scott’s life? If so, then she saved her own as well. What would her life be like with him in it again? She was almost afraid to wonder. This time with him was already more of a gift than she even imagined.

  They continued to make small talk with the few witnesses until the police arrived on the scene. Scott alternated between holding her hand and placing his on her back. He seemed to feel the need to touch her at all times, and she welcomed it, relished it. Her body had craved his closeness for so long. If she had him back, she was never letting go.

  When the statements were taken, the officers released them. Scott and Mallory said goodbye and thanked the caring people who stopped to help and wait with them. They watched the officers assist the drunken man, now awake and mumbling a semi-coherent apology, into the back of the squad car. The excitement done, they continued to the grocery store after Mallory convinced him she wasn’t going to pass out from blood loss, she was indeed fine, and ice cream was a birthday necessity.

  They picked Cookies and Cream, her favorite, and Rocky Road, his, then headed home. The plastic bag swung between their joined hands. It seemed neither of them could bear letting go of the other.

  All too soon, they reached her house. Mallory knew she risked running into her past self, but she didn’t know how to get around it. There was one option. She wasn’t fond of it—the vanity card. It was one she rarely used, but it might work in her favor this time.

  Coming to stop, she arranged her features into what she hoped was a worried expression. “Wait.”

  He turned and faced her, a frown already forming on his face. “What is it? Is your head hurting again?”

  “No, but everyone is already here. See all the cars?”

  “Yeah? So?”

  She gestured to herself. “Look at me. I’m a mess. If my mom sees my bloodied hair, she’ll freak.”

  He nodded in agreement. “What do you want me to do?”

  “If you go in the front with the ice cream and distract them,” she said, “I’ll run up to my room and change.”

  “Okay.” He smiled and started walking.

  “Scott!”

  What if this was the last time she saw him? What if it was a one-time shot and he really wouldn’t be there when she returned to her time? What if she somehow passed out in the kitchen and this was all just a dream?

  She ran to him, taking his face between her hands and pulling him down for a kiss. If this was the last time she ever saw him, she wasn’t going to let the chance to kiss him again pass her by. She heard the thud of the ice cream bag hitting the ground, and then his arms were around her, pulling her closer.

  She wished she could kiss him like this every day for the rest of her life. Her arms came down over his chest, then around his waist. Removing any distance between them, she pressed her body against his.

  When the kiss ended, she felt his lips curve into a smile. “The ice cream is melting,” he said against her mouth.

  She kissed him again, this one quick and chaste, before stepping back. “Nothing wrong with melted ice cream.”

  He laughed and picked up the bag, walking backwards up the driveway. “Sneak around the back. I’ll cover for you.”

  She blew him a kiss. “See you soon.”

  She only hoped it was true.

  Crossing along the side of the house to the backy
ard, she noticed the old tire swing in the corner. Dad had taken it down a year ago, since both she and Tommy had outgrown it. She went to it now and sat. Although she had told Scott she’d go inside, she didn’t. It wasn’t worth running into her old self. She wondered what would happen now. If Scott kissed her again, her sixteen-year-old self would think he had made the first move.

  She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, realizing that the next time he saw her, she would have long hair again. Poor Scott. Confusion would rule his world for the next few months. Still, confusion beat death, which was where he would be if she hadn’t intervened. She sobered quickly at the thought. Yes, it was better than death.

  Resting her cheek against the rough rope, she closed her eyes. The pain in her head had dulled to a slight throb. She relaxed, and sleep overtook her.

  The sound of laughter, multiple conversations, and clapping had Mallory blinking in confusion. She was back. Her eighteenth birthday cake lay before her, the candles still smoking. A wave of disappointment twisted her insides, but she forced herself to smile at her guests.

  “Whad’ya wish for?” Tommy yelled.

  “I can’t tell you,” she replied automatically. This had been a game between them for years. “It won’t come true.”

  She smiled at her brother, noting that he looked happier than he had in a long time. Then she noticed the hands on his shoulder, and looking past him, she gasped. Scott smiled at her, his face full of love.

  Her mom came over to cut the cake. She gently moved Mallory to the side. “I’ve got it, hon. Here’s your piece. Why don’t you go have a seat and eat it?”

  Mallory didn’t even look at the plate as she took it from her mother. Her eyes hadn’t left Scott’s face. She mumbled her thanks and crossed the room to him, stopping before him in amazement.

  “You’re here,” she said.

  He smiled at her. “Where else would I be? I wouldn’t miss this.” He leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was easy and familiar, like they had done it many times. Maybe they had. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “What did you wish for?”