Him by Carey Heywood (reading strategies book .txt) 📕

"Sarah." His blue eyes study me. "Don’t be silly. I'm not letting you get a cab."

"You're not letting me?"

He smirks at me.

"Fine, wait. Just don’t be so bossy."

All at once, I'm in a giant bear hug of his arms. What? God, his chest is absurdly solid, and he smells heavenly. His arms release me, and he grins. "I've really missed you, Sarah."

It is like a punch in the gut. Being here, Will, all of these emotions. I am trying my best to maintain some semblance of composure around him. I say nothing, eyes glued to the mouth of the conveyor belt and nod. I'm too shitless to look into his eyes right now. He is just too familiar. I'm tense. I wonder if I look like a crazy person, all bunched up in the shoulders, standing next to Will with his easy confidence. It must be so simple for him. He’s known how to command the attention of a room for as long as I've known him. I had the biggest crush on him during middle school and then high school and maybe now. Shit, don’t judge.

He had been so popular at our school, but what really got me was how down to earth he was. We were paired up in English for a project. Our class was assigned a book, and in pairs, we had to create a physical description of the book, write a written report, and give an oral presentation. I still remember the first time he called me. He must have gotten my telephone number out of the school directory. I was rendered mute and could not speak. He thought there was a bad connection, hung up, and called back. Locating my ability to speak the second time around, we made plans for him to come over and work on the project. I had been surprised he didn’t want me to go to his house. He seemed adamant about coming to mine.

I was embarrassed by my house and our belongings. I knew he lived in a really nice neighborhood. When he came over, he didn’t seem to think anything of it, though, and I stopped worrying about it. He rode his skateboard over every afternoon for a week while we worked on our project. While I didn’t feel weird about what he thought about my house by the end of the week, I was still nervous around him. He was so cute, and he always smelled good.

I would catch myself staring across the kitchen table at him, daydreaming about touching his hair. We hadn’t presented our project, but on the day we finished our work, I was almost certain he would never call or come over again. I had been stunned when he showed up the next day, just wanting to hang out. Our friendship grew from there. Will played lacrosse and basketball, but otherwise, he seemed to live at my house.

I had random friends, but Will became my best friend. The crank sound of the belt coming to life snaps me back to reality. My suitcase is unfortunately not one of the first out but tumbles down not long after. When Will sees me reach for it, he beats me to it, collecting it instead. Good ole Will. He refuses my attempt to pull my own suitcase, opting to instead place his duffle on top and pull them together. I can see the logic in it, but it still annoys me for some reason. I'm bothered that he seems to be acting like we haven’t missed a beat, like there hasn’t been seven years since that night. I follow him out to the parking deck. He slows his steps so we can walk side by side.

When we get to his car, I can’t help myself. "Another freaking Jetta?"

"They're good cars."

I lean against the side of it and watch him as he loads our luggage into the trunk. "Whatever. Can I press the button?"

He pauses. His eyes flick to mine. "Anytime, Miller Lite."

I wrinkle my nose at him. It seems not falling back into old habits would be harder than I thought. He opens up his duffle, and before I know it, click. My mouth drops, and he just shrugs. He had said on the plane a picture he took won an award. Even though everything else is so different, it is nice to know some things never change. Once we are both seated, I press the button to open the sunroof for old time's sake. As he drives, I am struck by how familiar, and at the same time different, our surroundings feel. We grew up in Decatur, a suburb of Atlanta. It was a beautiful place to grow up. We had four seasons, the crime rate was low, and the schools were good. For a town that was only four square miles, it had a lot going on. Will's neighborhood was much nicer than mine, but compared to the other areas around us, my house was all right.

Will watches me. "They closed the Denny's."

"Shut up." It had been my favorite place to eat. I have always been a breakfast-at-any-time-of-the-day kind of girl.

"Yep, and the Multiplex."

"God, that place was a dump even before I left. Do you have to drive all the way out to the mall now to see a movie?"

"The mall is gone."

"Now you're lying to me." I swat his shoulder. Yikes. It’s firm, probably should not have done that.

"No, I'm serious. They're going to build a new open-air one where it was."

I shake my head. "I don’t like those. Besides, it rains here too much. What a pain. So, since the mall is also gone, where do you go to the movies?"

"Asking me out?"

I give him a look.

He shrugs and continues. "A new place opened up just north of town. It's not far."

I nod. Do my memories of those places seem any less vivid now that the