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“Uh…” I try to think of my plans for the day which are pretty lax. I’m supposed to pop in and see my parents sometime this weekend, but I can do that anytime.
“Just think about it,” he interrupts. “Figured we should talk about what you said last night. In fact, we have a lot to talk about.” Hayden winks, then walks to the bathroom. He shuts the door, and my mind runs a million miles per hour trying to remember what bonehead thing I could’ve said to him.
Deciding I should get dressed as well, I dig around in my suitcase for something comfortable. I slip on some athletic shorts and a tank top then take a look in the mirror above the desk and gasp aloud.
“Oh my God,” I mutter to myself. My dark hair is disheveled. Mascara is smeared under my eyes. My lipstick is half rubbed off. I look like a hooker from a back alley on her worst night. How the hell was he even looking at me with a straight face?
The moment Hayden walks out in his black slacks and button-up shirt from last night, I barge past him until I’m in the bathroom and shut the door closed.
“Uh…you alright, Sav?” He knocks twice.
“Yes, I just need to clean up a little,” I rush out.
He chuckles on the other side, and my heart leaps. God, I love his laugh. It’s so manly now. And deep.
“You look fine, Savannah,” he says through the door, and I hate that even after all this time, he can read me like a book.
“Just give me a few minutes,” I say. After I pee and clean my face and fix the bird’s nest on my head, I count to five and then walk out with whatever dignity I have left.
Hayden’s on the bed, sitting casually and comfortable as if being here isn’t making him the least bit nervous.
“You could’ve warned me,” I say, breaking the silence.
Hayden sits upright and arches a brow. “About what?”
“That I looked like Helena Greve on prom night,” I say, taking a seat on the opposite end of the bed.
His head falls back on his shoulders, and a loud roar of laughter escapes him. When our eyes meet again, I’m smiling and laughing along with him.
“I don’t want to put you on the spot about meeting up for lunch but think about it and let me know?” he asks. “I don’t know how long you’re here, but I have a few days off so—”
“I don’t leave until Tuesday. Took a couple of extra days so I could visit my family,” I say, feeling guilty that I don’t see them as much as I want. Though they understand my schedule between practice and shows, I still feel bad about it.
“Well, why don’t you just text or call me—” He pauses. “Do you still have my number?”
“As long as you haven’t changed it, then yes I do,” I admit, shamelessly. Now he knows I kept it all this damn time.
“Uh, yeah. Same number. Different phone, though.” He holds up his iPhone, and we both laugh.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I had a pink Razr our senior year,” I say, smiling and feeling the awkward tension slowly burn away.
“Oh, right. We had to T9 text back then,” he says. “Kids these days don’t know the struggle it took to write a sentence.”
“That’s for sure,” I reply, biting my bottom lip. I want to mount him like a grizzly bear, and the fact my feelings from ten years ago can easily surface with one conversation tells me just how much trouble I really am in.
“I should get home and change out of these clothes,” he says, walking toward the door. I follow to escort him out.
“Yeah, I need to shower the alcohol out of my pores.” I grimace as soon as the words fall out of my mouth. I’m a professional actor; I should know how to control my thoughts and not say the first thing that comes to mind.
Hayden opens the door and immediately turns around to face me. “For what it’s worth, it was really great to see you. I know we didn’t say goodbye on the best terms, but I often wondered about you. It’s nice seeing how well you’re doing.”
His words have butterflies leaping in my stomach. He shouldn’t be this nice to me. He should hate me. He shouldn’t want anything to do with me after the way I left him.
“It was really great seeing you too, Hayden. I’m glad everything worked out for your career. I can tell it makes you really happy.”
He briefly brushes a hand over his mouth and beard, then brings his eyes back to mine. “Not so sure about that.” Hayden gives me a faint smile, and before I can ask him what he means, he continues, “Let me know, okay?”
