Arms Wide Open: a Novella (7 page)

“Are you okay?” a very familiar and
concerned voice asks.

Nothing surprises me more than that
voice. “Grant?” I ask, sitting up. I think I leave a handful of hair behind in
the bush as I lurch up in surprise, but I’m too shocked to feel it. “How did
you find me?”

He squats down next to me and holds my
wallet up. “You left this. I’m a creeper and went through it. Took your cash
and went on a spending spree before I brought it back.”

“With what I have in there? What did you
buy, half a pack of gum?” I sit up and rub the back of my head, which is now
pulsing with heat and pain. I touch it gently to feel the damage. I should have
a lovely goose egg back there by morning.

“Oliver and I found it under the table
where we sat tonight,” he explains. Grant stands, offering a hand to help me
up.

I sigh and take it, jumping lightly to
my feet with his help. That jolt is back, the white hot burst of energy I feel
when I see him and touch him. I stand there for just a moment, basking in it as
light from the hall illuminates his perfect features, his hand still in mine.
“Thanks,” I murmur, working up the courage to look him in the eye. When my eyes
reach his, I almost can’t breathe. We stand there, hand in hand, for the
longest moment, until a shadow blocks our light and I hear Harlow clearing her
throat as discreetly as she can.

I look away. “Harlow, meet Grant. Grant,
this is my roommate Harlow.”

She leans against the door frame and
folds her arms, looking very much like a mother who just got her kid smooching
on the porch after curfew. “Grant, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard absolutely
nothing about you.”

He grins and shakes his head,
embarrassed. “Same here.”

“He found my wallet at the coffee shop
and was nice enough to bring it back to me,” I tell her. I jump back and wipe
the dirt and leaves from my backside. Coughing, I look down long enough to
collect my thoughts, and then take the wallet from him. “Thanks again for
bringing this by. You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

“Hey, uh, Lauren,” he starts, but he
glances at Harlow, who’s still standing in the doorway with an amused smirk on
her face.

“Can I have a minute?” I ask her as my
heart starts to beat foolishly in my chest.

Her eyes soften, and the porch light
flips on as she closes the door. “You two crazy kids don’t stay out too late,”
she says right before the door clicks shut.

Grant looks around, looking for a place
to sit. We have nothing, unless he wants to use the shrubbery for a bench, so
we stand in the odd yellow glimmer of the porch light. I’m so full of things I
want to ask him, things I want to say, but that will take a lifetime, and I
haven’t earned it. Maybe he did walk away...but I’m the one who stayed away.

“So Oliver and I were talking,” he
begins, and his voice sounds a little high-pitched and unnatural. His nervous
voice. I smile and fold my arms, tipping my head to listen. “We were wondering
if you wanted to get together sometime for a casual dinner, you know, old
friends just hanging out.”

I offer an exaggerated nod. “Mm-hmm. You
forget just how well I know Oliver. If I agree, he plans to come down with a
mysterious case of food poisoning or leprosy that night and then experience a
miraculous recovery next day, right?”

Grant’s eyes close. “Something like
that,” he admits with a half-smile.

“You brought me my wallet. Your good
deed is done for the day,” I say. I want to step away, but something draws me
closer. “You’ve offered dinner with an old friend and I’d love to accept, but
if I say yes, I don’t want dinner with a friend.”

“What are you saying?” He’s closer now,
too, and my face tilts up to search his even though it’s partially hidden in
shadow.

“I can’t be friends with you, Grant.”

He looks stunned and a little hurt.
“What do you—”

Before I know what I’m doing, I move
closer still and search his eyes. I may not know much, but I know I can’t be
‘just friends’ with him, ever. I need to see if it’s still there, if he still
wants me. I run my fingers through his thick curls and pull his head toward
mine. My lips part and I feel the sweet warmth of his breath on my cheek before
our lips meet. His hands cradle my face and then slide down my back as he pulls
me closer. I taste the salt of his skin for a brief moment as I pull away, but
he won’t let me go. A light mist and gentle rain falls on us. It feels like
time stands still as our hearts beat together and our lips meet again, soft and
urgent, slow and deep, making promises we can’t wait to keep. Our lips tell
each other what we’re not quite ready to say again. Not yet.

With a reluctant sigh, I pull away and
look down. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, and pulls me into a hug.
My head rests against his shoulder and he rubs my back slowly. “We can’t pick
up where we left off, Lauren.”

“I don’t want to,” I answer as I wrap my
arms around his waist. “I want something different. We aren’t the same people
we were five years ago. And you deserve so much more than I ever offered
before.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought that,”
he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing it gently, the smell of him washing
over me as I melt into him again. “You were always enough.”

I don’t know if I’m ready to believe in
happily ever after yet, but I want to believe that we can be happy now. Maybe
together we can recover the tomorrow we thought we lost, because, finally, my
arms are wide open.