Page 17 of The Write Stuff

5

FIVE

The end of the reader event was like seeing a rainbow after a wicked storm. All I felt was relief.

I said my goodbyes to Nathan and Brody quickly — I really did like them, even though Nathan was a bit of a goof — and then exited in the opposite direction of everybody else. Or, well, I hoped it was the opposite direction. I wanted to avoid running into Wylie and enduring yet another awkward conversation.

So, with that in mind, I decided to set a meeting place for my Uber that was a few blocks away. I pointed myself toward the River District — there was a riverwalk on the other side of the four-building hotel — and eased between the buildings. Once near the Savannah River, I could breathe again, although I was surprised at how little activity there was next to the casually flowing water. I’d been expecting it to be hopping. It was quiet, though.

Ah, well, that was just as good. I needed to think.

I started walking, paying special attention to the galleries I could see through the hotel windows. The two restaurants directly in front of the hotel were quiet, with only a few drinkers sitting at the bars and watching televisions. The Starbucks and smaller jewelry and trinket shops were closed. The patches of grass that were there for guests with dogs to utilize were empty.

I walked in a fog until I hit the edge of the fourth building, my mind on Wylie.

Man, she had grown up to be beautiful. My mother was right about that. I had no idea it was possible for somebody who had been all sharp angles — gangly elbows and knobby knees — to have such nice curves years later. Wylie was still thin. That thinness made her look as if she belonged on a fashion runway, not the deck of the Enterprise barking out orders in Klingon, however. It was … disconcerting.

What was she doing here? I’d assumed, since our mothers had basically scattered to separate coasts and stayed there unless their assistants had worked it out for conventions, that she would stay on the West Coast. Apparently not, though. She was here and seemingly putting down roots.

Except she was subletting Bella’s apartment. Maybe that meant she only planned on staying for a few months. Perhaps it was just a tryout of sorts, and she would hate Savannah. How could she hate Savannah, though? It was a great city, with access to rivers, oceans, and the sort of history I knew Wylie would go nuts over. She loved ghost stories and paranormal stuff. Or, she had back when I knew her. Perhaps that had changed as well, along with her appearance.

I only considered the possibility for a few seconds. No, Wylie was who she was at her core. She might have grown into her body — and, damn, it was a really good body — but she wouldn’t change who she was inside. And, weirdly, when I thought back to who she was when we were teenagers, I felt shame. My mother had been right about that, too. Once I could get out from under the shadow of what a teenage boy was supposed to be, I found some of the things that Wylie had been so excited about charming.

Man, how had that even happened?

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize I was about to run into the only other person out on the riverwalk until I was almost upon her. Apparently, she was distracted like me, because she didn’t see me coming directly at her.

I put out my hands in a defensive move and managed to grab her shoulders. She gasped — did she think I was about to attack her? — and then gave me her full focus.

Wylie blinked three times in rapid succession and then opened her mouth at the same time I did.

“What are you doing here?” we said at the same time.

I realized I was touching her — why were her shoulders so perfect? — about three seconds too late and finally removed them.

Wylie worked her jaw, her eyes narrowing. “I asked you first,” she said finally.

She asked me what first? I’d grown momentarily lost by the brown of her eyes — it was comforting for some reason — and had completely forgotten what I was supposed to be doing. “Um … I decided to walk by the riverwalk and call my Uber down that way.” I pointed in a vague direction.

“Oh.” She made a face. “I walked this way on purpose because I planned to circle around to get to my place.”

Meaning she’d walked this way to avoid me, even though she didn’t want to admit it. It was all about me. For some reason, I liked that idea. Why, though? What was wrong with me? Seeing Wylie had thrown off my entire day. Everything had been happening exactly how I envisioned, right up until dinner. Now, nothing felt as if it was working correctly.

“I see.” That was all I could think to say.

To my surprise, she offered up an exaggerated eye roll. “I’m not stalking you or anything. It’s the opposite, actually. I was trying to avoid you.”

For some reason, her response — the way she delivered it mostly — struck me as funny. A smile took over my mouth, unbidden. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

“How?”

“Because I was trying to do the same thing, dummy.” The old insult — dummy — came out before I realized it was going to happen. I’d called her a dummy when we were younger. Much younger than we were now. When we’d first met, I was 11, and she was almost 10. Playground insults were not only allowed but expected. I’d kept calling her dummy after, even as we got older. It wasn’t an insult, though. Most of those admonishments were actually full of affection, even though I was only realizing that now.

“You did not just call me a dummy,” she shot back, outraged.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “It’s not the first time.”

“No, and I hated it back then, too.” She crossed her arms over her chest. May in Savannah meant most days were warm. A chill could still sneak into the air at night, although tonight was not one of those nights. Was she cold anyway? She looked uncomfortable more than anything else.