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Naomi's face scrunches up, her usual composed demeanor flustered.
"Look, Chloe, I didn’t anticipate this. Tom had some last-minute issues, so he can’t come. That leaves us with the two cars, which are jam-packed already." Her hands move in all directions, fluttering like confused birds as she tries to articulate the problem. "I thought I had it all sorted out, sorry..."
I raise my left eyebrow, the weight of the situation slowly dawning on me.
"So, what’s the solution?"
Naomi's sly smirk, one I've known since we were children, makes my heart drop further.
"I called someone to help out. He's on his way."
Immediately, I feel a wave of dread wash over me. With my dress on, I wish I had pockets to shove my hands into or somewhere to hide. I can see it in Naomi's eyes. She's talking about Chris.
It can't be! Why him? Naomi knows about our history. About how he left me without a word, moving away from our small town and chasing dreams bigger than us. It's been ten years, but the hurt feels just as raw.
Everyone knew he was going to leave, everyone but me. And now, here we are, a decade later, preparing to face the memories of our high school years. I thought I’d be ready, at least for a brief exchange of pleasantries. But being trapped in a car with him? It's the furthest thing from my idea of a pleasant reunion.
"Why would you think this is a good idea, Naomi?" I ask, my voice teetering on the edge of despair. "Can't I trade places with someone else? Anyone?"
She purses her lips, her expression apologetic yet firm.
"Everyone’s already in the cars, Chloe. This is just...easier."
Easier for whom?
My heart races, threatening to jump out of my chest. The idea of facing Chris after all these years, especially in such close quarters, makes me feel like I’m caught in a whirlwind. It's as if the universe is conspiring to reopen old wounds.
Naomi reaches out, gripping my arm gently.
"It's just a ride, Chloe. It'll be over before you know it."
I huff, staring at the ground, wishing there was an escape route from this.
Naomi's compassionate look doesn’t appease the rising anger within me.
“Why, Naomi? Why would you do this?”
She sighs, looking as if she's grappling with her own guilt.
"Chloe, this wasn't a setup. It wasn't my intention to put you in this spot. You'd be doing everyone a favor by just getting in the car with him. I’m sorry."
My eyes flash, remembering the pain he caused, "You know our story. You've been with me through the tear-filled nights and the years of anger. You know how he shattered my heart."
"I remember, Chloe. But that was a decade ago. You've moved on. Chris probably isn’t the same person anymore. Maybe he's changed. Maybe he regrets what he did."
I can feel the burn of anger, the sting of betrayal in my heart. I want to lash out at Naomi, accuse her of thoughtlessness, perhaps even scream about my decision not to go to the party. Let them revel without me. I'd rather care for my emotions than risk tearing open old scars.
But before I can voice my thoughts, a roaring sound interrupts us. I look up just in time to see a sleek sports car, its glossy sheen blinding speed past.
The gust it leaves in its wake lifts our dresses, and we hastily push them down while its smoky trail has us coughing and waving our hands to clear the air.
When the dust settles, I shoot Naomi a fierce look, my feelings unmistakably clear.
"Nicer, right?"
She shifts uncomfortably, "Maybe he didn't see us. You should give him a chance. You never know what might happen, right?"
I snort in disbelief. Yes, sometimes I still think about him, what we could have been, and the life we could have had together. But he left, and that’s it. No turning back from that.
