If At First

Part 2 - Chapter 1

"Alright," he looked me over again, pausing briefly at my mouth. "you mind if I take off then? I'm in a bit of a hurry." He moved his chin in the direction of an idling black sedan with an impatient-looking driver holding the door. How did I not notice that before?

He bent to pick up my phone and in handing it to me, his fingers brushed mine. The contact made my entire arm tingle. "Thanks," I squeaked articulately. He took a last glance and nodded almost imperceptibly to himself before striding hurriedly away and sliding into the back seat. I stood watching as the car sped off at breakneck speed down our lonely little road.

When he was out of sight and I remembered once again to inhale and then exhale and then inhale, I looked back through the glass doors of the shop. Inside, my friend Tommy was behind the counter waving wildly at me to come in. Which was when I decided to get back my car and to go directly home.

Normally I would be the type to obsess about what just happened. And normally I would try to convince myself that I was way more composed than I felt. But I was pretty sure this time I looked like a person who walks into doors. So for possibly the first time ever I was thankful I knew everything about Madison and that he could only have been passing through. The only possible witness was Tommy. And since the last story Tommy told was that he was engaged to Taylor Swift, he could be easily discredited.

I put the incident out of my head, dismissing it as a daydream, and turned onto my street. The white clapboard farmhouse I've loved all my life stood waiting for me with its slanted porch and the swing on it rocking in the gentle breeze. Strange that not quite four years ago my entire universe revolved around this house, and now it's practically foreign.

The fence and gutters were badly in need of repair, and the leaves that should have been raked months ago were long-since neglected, now pasted to the ground and shoved into corners in a matted-down mass.

I tapped open the front door with the non-existent lock, hesitating in the darkened entryway that separated the living room from the dining room. The first thing I notice is the pristine upkeep typical of a house boarding four men oblivious to the advantages of Clorox. My attention was then called to the top of the stairs by Andy's thudding descent as he tripped downward to welcome me.

He was bigger than I remembered, towering over me like a dandelion over a blade of grass, his wide shoulders and constricting arms reaching to squeeze me.

People often assumed he was the older sibling, and the fact that he took it upon himself to act as my own personal bodyguard never did much to contradict that. Which might explain my limited dating history. Another explanation might be the foreseeable heart attack my father would have had, which was why I never argued with Andy's self-appointed, overprotective occupation. Not that such a position was even remotely necessary.

My adolescence was, to put it gently; awkward. It wasn't until my senior year of high school that anyone noticed me for the first time, and by then I was so shocked at the attention I had no idea how to react to it.

Andy looks very much like I imagine our father would have looked at his age. Dark hair, laughing eyes, and a kind smile revealing perfectly straight teeth. This, combined with his generally unreserved manner when with anyone lucky enough to be his friend, made him an amazingly enjoyable person to be around. Seeing Andy again was a breath of fresh air. We were always so close, having to sometimes play the parents to Sam and Nicky. It was like a piece of myself I hadn't realized was missing clicking into place when we were together.

"Tabby-Kat!" He gushed, "Man, I missed you! Is that my sweater? Did you shrink? Your hair got long!" And just as quickly as he had suffocated me into a hug, he released and shoved me toward the living room. I let him pass, playfully punching him in the ribs, which he didn't seem to notice at all.