Second Chances (31 page)

Ashley flopped down on the bed beside her.  “Why so glum?  Did you and Allison not have a good visit?”

Reagan rubbed at her eyes. “It was fine.”

“I recognize that look,” Ashley frowned. “You’re still pining over her, and she’s still sticking to that lame story about not being gay.”

“Something
like that,” Reagan sighed.  She continued staring at the ceiling.  “I did something, Ash, and I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do or not.”

“Oh…vague comments…you certainly know how to tell a captivating story, Prez.”

“It has to do with Allison.”

Ashley made a snorting sound.
“Obviously.  It’s
always
about Allison.”

Reagan rolled onto her stomach. “Be nice.
”

“This
is
me being nice,” Ashley protested. “I’m just concerned about you.  If this girl doesn’t realize what a great catch you are, then she’s crazy.”

“That’s
very kind of you.  Unnecessary,” Reagan sighed, rubbing at her face, “but kind.”

“I’m just keeping you
buttered up so you’ll room with me after college,” Ashley winked.  When Reagan remained silent and melancholy, she continued. “Seriously, Prez.  You know you can talk to me about this stuff.  I’m not gonna judge. Okay, so I probably
will
judge,” she self-corrected, “but I’m not going to throw it in your face.  I find that talking about stuff helps me process better.”

“
I found that girl – Daria Grey.  And I gave Allison her email address.  And now they’re on a date someplace in Manhattan.”

“You did what?” Ashley squawked.
 

Reagan shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“So let me get this straight – pardon the word,” Ashley quipped.  “You’re falling in love with Allison, so you helped her reconnect with her old girlfriend.”

Reagan stiffened at the label
. “Just a girl she knew in high school.”

“Who
m she had a mad affair via romantic letters with for nearly a year,” Ashley pointed out.

T
ears sprung to Reagan’s eyes again. “God, I’m an idiot.”

Ashley shook her head. “You
certainly are a piece of work, Reagan Murphy. Grab your jacket.”

“What?  Why?”

“You’re done moping around, and you’re done blasting the saddest love songs ever written.  Get out of bed because we’re tracking Allison down and knocking some sense into her.”

“You’re ridiculous.”  Reagan grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest.

Ashley wrestled the pillow away and threw it across the room. “And you’re a coward.”

"I am not,” Reagan whined.  “I tried.”  Why couldn’t Ashley just leave her alone?  All she wanted to do was listen to sad music and eat her emotions.  She wished she wasn’t vegan.  All she wanted was a package of double-stuffed Oreos.

“Try harder.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing worth it ever is.”

Reagan released a long, tortured sigh.  “Even if I wanted to,” she started cautiously, “how would I find them? Allison said they were meeting for coffee, but there's got to be at least a thousand coffee places on this island.  And what if they’re not even having coffee anymore?” She felt a panic attack rising in her chest.  “What if things went so well they decided to have dinner together?  Or maybe they just skipped food altogether and got a hotel room!"

"Give me your phone," Ashley ordered.

Reagan hesitated. Letting anyone hold her phone felt a little like letting them read her diary.
 Reluctantly, she handed it over.

"Your anti-establishment honey is off the grid, right?" Ashley said, rifling through the contents of Reagan's phone in a way that made her feel violated.

"I guess so,” Reagan shrugged, not sure what that had to do with anything. “She doesn't do social networking and loathes text messaging."

"But I bet that chick you threw at her is human like the rest of us." Ashley beamed victoriously and tossed the phone back at Reagan.
 

Not being naturally athletic, Reagan bobbled the phone like a hot potato before she could look at the screen.  She read the status update out loud: "Having coffee with an old friend; Daria Grey checked in at the Manhattan Starbucks on Broadway."

“I can’t believe you Friended her,” Ashley chucked. “She’s the enemy, Prez.”

Reagan frowned.  “I had to.  Her profile was private and I was curious.”

Not wasting any more time, Ashley threw a jacket in Reagan's direction, nearly smacking her in the face.  "Hustle up.  We’re gonna  get your girl."

+++++

Reagan wished she knew how to read lips.  She also wished that Daria Grey’s profile picture had been prettier than she actually was in person.  Unfortunately Reagan was not a lip-reader.  And unfortunately, Daria Grey was stunning.

Reagan had hoped that Daria Grey was Catfish-ing her or that she’d gotten fat after high school.  But she couldn’t deny that the woman sitting across the table from Allison was strikingly beautiful.  She had the kind of clean-cut, girl-next-door look about her common in the Midwest.  Her dark brown hair was
almost black and fell in carefully tamed waves around her face, falling just below her shoulder blades.  Her skin had a reddish, bronzed hue as though she spent a lot of time in the sun, but it was natural looking, not fake-baked or sprayed on.  If Reagan had to place the girl’s ethnicity, she’d probably guess American Indian.  Allison was having coffee with the live incarnation of Pocahontas. How was she supposed to compete with a Disney Princess?

When Daria stood to get a refill, she walked
with the practiced grace of a classical dancer.  She wore skinny jeans and an off-the shoulder sweater belted at the waist that emphasized her slender waistline and gently curving hips. Her nose was small and proportionate to the rest of her face. Her lips were tinted a muted shade of red.  They weren’t bee-stung or the kind Hollywood actresses pine for, but they were generous and seemed to fall naturally into a warm, pleasant smile.

Her eyes were what really struck
Reagan, however.  Even with the distance between them, Reagan could see how remarkable they were.  The large, dark, and slightly almond-shaped eyes made Daria look surprised all the time until they crinkled at the corners when she smiled. And she was doing a lot of smiling.  It didn’t surprise her though; Allison was the queen of charm.

Reagan leaned close to the plate glass window of the Manhattan Starbucks.
“I can’t go in there.”  Her breath fogged a small circle on the glass.

“Why the hell not?”
Ashley demanded. “We came all this way,
and
I used my super sleuthing skills.  Don’t let that be in vain.”

“
But I’m the one who threw them together!” Reagan hissed.  She watched Daria reach across the table and place her hand on top of Allison’s. Her stomach dropped and she turned away from the window, not willing to put herself through more torture.  “This is wrong,” she choked out. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Ashley continued to unabashedly peer through the window.
Her face was practically pressed against the glass surface. “You’re not the least bit curious?”

“Of course I am,” Reagan
admitted. “That’s why I did the Facebook thing.”  She leaned against the window and folded her arms across her chest. “But that doesn’t mean we should be here.”

New Yorkers dodged around her and Ashley, shooting annoyed looks their way for occupying so much sidewalk space.  Normally Reagan would be ducking out of the way and profusely apologizing for taking up so much space, but she was too upset to care.  It was the Upper East Side on a Saturday.  Why were people in such a rush anyway?

“Besides,” she sniffled, hugging her arms around her tighter, “Allison’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to date me.  Not now.  Not ever.”

Ashley turned away from the window and
regarded her friend. “Well then, Allison’s an idiot.”

Reagan’s face crumpled and her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “What’s wrong with me, Ash?
” she cried. “Why doesn’t she want me?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Ashley wrapped her arm around Reagan’s shaking shoulders.  “C’mon,” she hushed in her
ear.  “Let’s go get you good and drunk.”

+++++

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Reagan and Ashley
stumbled into their dormitory room, both giggling in fits.  Manhattan had a lot of coffee shops, but it had even more bars.  They both halted just inside the threshold when they saw the figure seated on Reagan’s bed.

“Allison?”

The woman in question looked up from her hands.  “Hi,” she said, almost shyly.

Ashley hovered by the door.
  She looked back and forth between Allison and her roommate. Their eyes were locked on each other.  “I just forgot I have…a thing…a place to be,” she mumbled. Neither Reagan nor Allison seemed to be paying attention to her, so she slinked back out of the door unnoticed.

Reagan strai
ghtened, immediately sobering.  “How did you get in here?”

The corner
of Allison’s mouth twitched. “The girl working the front desk recognized me and let me in.  I’m sure she was breaking a dozen rules.”

“You could get away with murder with that smile,” Reagan mumbled.

“What?”

Reagan sucked in a deep breath. “How was Daria?”

Allison visibly sat up straighter on the bed. “I, uh, she’s fine.”  She smiled softly and her eyes seemed to lose their focus. “She’s just like I remembered her, actually.  We talked as though almost no time had passed.”

The words falling out of Allison’s mouth seemed to blur together for Reagan.  Her brain screamed at her:
Why is she here? Why does she insist on torturing me? Why won’t she just kiss me?

“You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”  The words were out of Reagan’s mouth before she could stop herself.

“If this is your version of being charming,” Allison deadpanned, “then you suck at it.”

Reagan threw her hands up in frustration and made a disgruntled noise. “See? This is what I’m talking about.
  I can’t even finish a thought without you interrupting me.”

Allison
laughed. “Fine, I’m sorry.  I’m listening.  I won’t interrupt again,” she promised with a sweet smile.

"Seeing you with Daria today—"

"Wait,” Allison interrupted again despite her promise. “When did you see me with Daria?"

Reagan grimaced, realizing her slip. "Ashley and I kind of tracked you down."

Allison’s hazel eyes widened. "Reagan!"

"I know!  I’m crazy!” Reagan bellowed. “And seeing you with Daria made me sick to my stomach.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I had to know.”  Reagan worried her bottom lip.  “And I know I'm the one who reconnected you two and that you never would have tracked her down on your own if I hadn't meddled, but I'm actually glad I did.  Seeing Daria may have rekindled whatever you had with her, but it also forced me to realize something that might not have come without that push."

She paused long enough to take a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you, Allison."  She stopped and shook herself.  "No. I
know
I'm in love with you. And it's impossible to think about how it even happened because of our past.  I always have a plan, but loving you is not something I ever planned.  Being your friend, yes.  But not falling in love with you.” It felt like the floodgates had been opened.  She'd kept her emotions in check and her heart contained, but now that she'd begun to open up and be honest, she couldn't stop. “And now that I realize what this feeling is – that this perpetual knot in the pit of my stomach when you’re around isn’t indigestion or bad Indian curry – I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know if it’s too late, but I do know that I love you.  I love you,” she said again, as much as for herself as for Allison’s benefit.  “It’s always been you.”

Reagan took a
nother deep breath and filled her lungs with much needed oxygen.  She fell silent and warily eyeballed Allison.  True to her word, she hadn’t interrupted again.  But now that Reagan had finished her speech, Allison continued to remain silent. 

Worst of all, Reagan couldn’t read the expression on her face.  Allison had a singular talent for wiping all emotion from her features.  No poker player herself, the lack of reaction terrified Reagan. “Please say something,” she managed to croak out.