Last Chance

six

vi.

Wishful thinking.

That's what it'd been. A mirage, or a dream. Perhaps something more pragmatic than that; some frequency illusion. You know the type, like when you purchase a car then start seeing the same one everywhere you go.

An honest mistake was what this woman was. She was tan-skinned, like her, with dark hair and even darker eyes. Small-shouldered and clad in attire where simple met sexy. But in a unparalleled way, she wasn't her.

Because she was all blushes and shy smiles when Caleb's parted lips pulled into a quick smirk, trying to conceal how shaken he truly was. "Hey, there." He gulped, then gestured sloppily over his shoulder at his cabriolet. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't see anything what with it raining like cats and dogs. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," the woman assured meekly, after her head pivoted once she made out – even in the downpour – footfalls approaching. "Just watch where you're going next time, yeah?"

One arm over his head to shield his face, Caleb peered at the woman's face, captivated by her features. In the flickers of clear air between raindrops, he could see she was gorgeous in her own right, and distractingly so—even at a moment like this.

"Duly noted," Caleb was quick to respond. "Have we met before? You look eerily familiar."

The woman simply scoffed. "Do you always preposition the women you nearly run over?"

"Not under the ruse of near-death experiences, no." He grinned, extending a hand out, "Caleb Breland."

"Genevieve Yee," she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances."

"Not to overstep my stature as your latest acquaintance, Gen, but you should really invest in some brollies."

"Not to overstep my boundaries, Caleb, but every pound I make at my job goes to buying gas to get to my job." She quipped as rain trickled off her chin, and still shone on her eyelashes like tears. "Unfortunately, we can't all be born with a silver spoons in our mouths."

"Right. Some of us actually have to climb the corporate ladder and make something of ourselves with or without the prejudices, fixed opinions and cynicism disguised as logic," his voice dripped with dry irony.

She frowned. "I'm...being a proper bitch."

This surprised him into a laugh. "You're not," he assured, "you're fine."

Relief—true and genuine relief—shone on the woman's face. Her mouth drew down, like she was trying to restrain a smile. There was something about her, her features, the timid mannerisms. "Do you have a sister, by any chance?"

Genevieve flitted her owlish eyes up. "I do."

"I knew it! The resemblance is uncanny," he exclaimed, jovially. "Francine, right? I went to college with her."

"Unbelievable. Small world!"

"Tell me about it,"

"I'd...love to." Genevieve reached for the breast pocket of her peacoat, pulling out her notepad and pencil. "I'll give you my number," she said, hurriedly wiping spots of rain off the paper, then scrawling down her name and contact details. "And we could chat about it over drinks sometime?"

Caleb pulled in a sharp breath. "Oh, Genevieve...I'm flattered. Truly." He paused. "And you're gorgeous, but I'm not looking for anything. I mean I am, but with only one person and she's—"

" —Let me stop you right there," she held a hand up, her mouth adorned in a silly grin. "I meant 'we' as in me, you and Fran!"

"Oh. Oh!"

"Besides, I'm gay as hell."

This prompted a lively, bellyaching laugh from Caleb. It took him a moment to gather his wits but once he sobered, he watched her intently. "Of course," he said, his voice still riddled with mirth. "I hope you didn't think that was presumptuous of me."

"Not at all, I could have worded it better."

She ripped the paper and handed it to him. Caleb took it in one hand and crumpled it up in his fingers, not like rubbish, but like something he intended to hang onto very tightly indeed.

"Fran is throwing some fancy-schmancy birthday bash soon," she was saying, "I think I could snag you an invite. We could have drinks, then?"

"If she wants me there then it would be my pleasure,"

"And it would be nice to see your old mates, yeah? I'm pretty sure this thing could turn into an alumni party with the amount of familiar faces that'll be running around."

"Familiar faces, you say?" Caleb's curiosity was piqued. "So, what, she's inviting everybody from our graduating class?"

Rain trickled off Genevieve's chin, and still shone on her eyelashes like tears. "More or less."

Stella wasn't of their graduating class, seeing as she was a few years younger. But Caleb couldn't shake off the tremor that'd settled in his bones and made his blood run cold. The possibility of her being there were slim, but still there. She'd gotten on with his tight-knit group brilliantly. She could be someone's plus one.

She could be his.

Friends brought friends as each other's plus ones...right?

"Caleb," Genevieve repeated. "I have to go."

"Go, then," Caleb said.

"Don't be a stranger. Call me!"

Caleb nodded, and was sure, for the second time in his life that maybe the stars were aligning in his favour.

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OG last dance readers know where i'm going with this...

apologies for the month-long hiatus...life gets in the way sometimes. i'm back, though.

yours temporarily, avrielle