As Seen On TV

7. High School Reunion

I sighed, swallowing my pride. "You're right," I admitted. "I'm sorry, I just..." I trailed off. "It's been a rough past month. I wasn't exactly in a great state of mind when I signed up for this whole thing." I gestured around to the conversations unfolding around us.

He nodded. "I totally know what you mean. It's kinda one of those decisions you have to make on impulse, that feels great at the time, but rears its head later, when you're having second thoughts." He smiled sadly and looked down at his feet, skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. In that moment, I didn't think anyone understood more the way I had been feeling than he did, right then. I wanted to hug him, or to just squeeze him or something, tell him it was all going to be alright. He just seemed so beaten down, so world-weary.

I don't know how I got all that from one simple statement, but his eyes and mannerisms conveyed far more to me than his words.

"Hey," I reached out and lightly touched his elbow. "We'll get through this. Even if it means we have to fist fight with each other to get ourselves kicked off because we can't handle the craziness anymore." He laughed, then, but it sounded strangled.

"I'm not sure I'd win that fight."

"I'm not sure you would either," I said, launching a playful punch at his shoulder.  His charm, paired with his looks and his vocabulary, were dangerously disarming, which would prove difficult if I wanted to stay mad at him. 

He rubbed it in mock pain. "Ouch."

He scratched the back of his neck again, and I got the feeling it was a nervous habit.

"So, listen, are we good to put all that stuff from the plane behind us? Friends?"

It was a tempting offer, and I didn't really see what other choice I had, but I just had to clear my mind if I was going to think about anything else for the next couple weeks. He was already working his way dangerously close to my good graces.

"Who's Samantha?" I blurted. Oh no, what have I done?

His smile dropped instantly and he stood up, pushing off the railing with his hands.

"What?"

I blushed even harder and gnawed on my lower lip, my words all spilling out in a jumble now.

"On the plane, when you fell asleep, I saw your phone in your lap. You were getting a call from someone named Samantha.... I swear, I wasn't like, trying to look or anything, I just saw it because it happened to be directly in front of my face, and don't try to tell me she's a sister or cousin or something, because even if you were from Texas or Arkansas, you wouldn't take a picture like that with a relative, and well, it's just, not to be presumptuous or anything, I just thought..."

A look of recognition passed across his features. "Oh," he said, swallowing. "Oh my God, you thought I was flirting with you."

I couldn't stop the offended look from coming to my face. 

"I mean, no!" He said, putting out his hands and running one over his face and the other through his hair. "No, that's not what I mean! Sorry, that is to say, I was flirting with you, sorry, but..." he sighed. "Samantha is my ex. We broke up a couple weeks back when I, er, caught her with another guy. She's been, well, she's been really just a terror about the whole breakup, which is annoying as hell considering it's pretty clear she didn't value our relationship, but she's been calling me a lot since then. Needless to say, I haven't answered."

If my face got any hotter, I was going to explode. Wrong again, Lyra. You're 0 for 2.

I stuttered out an attempt at an apology. "Pat, oh my gosh, I'm... I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry, I just assumed..."