One broken heart. Two old flames. An unexpected reunion.
Diana Hamilton has spent the last six years trying to leave the girl she was in high school behind. Along with any residual feelings she had for Mason Hayworth, the golden boy who shattered he...
He cocked his head to the side and studied me intently, his light brown locks tickling the side of his neck. I felt very uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his clear blue eyes, almost as though he had x-ray vision. Which I knew was impossible.
Or at least, very unlikely.
He grinned at me, the dimple in his left cheek more pronounced than ever. I had to restrain myself from poking it; it was that adorable. "See you around Di." I resisted the urge to tell him that I do not like being called 'Di,' because after all it was MasonHayworth! Besides, the chances of him talking to me ever again were slim to none and so what he called me seemed like a non-issue. Or so I thought.
It was the kind of moment that happens at the beginning of all those movies I spent years watching. If I had let myself dwell on it, I probably would have scoffed at how cliché it all could have been.
Except, it didn't go like that. Although for a very brief period, I thought it would. I truly believed that Mason Hayworth was the great love of my life.
But not every high school love affair has a happy ending. Sometimes, when something doesn't make sense to you, that's because it shouldn't. When something is too good to be true-it is.
He turned and walked away, his gait confident, shoes pounding against the wooden floor. Our whole interaction had lasted maybe five minutes at a stretch.
But it would impact my entire life.
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"Lex!" I screech to my roommate. "Have you seen my keys? I'm running late." I throw my dirty blonde hair into a bun while I wander around the apartment looking for my car keys, my bag swinging wildly on my shoulder.
"Honestly D," she appears in the lounge and points at the table, "you need to get your eyes checked." She is dressed impeccably as usual, immaculate and already ready for work, even though she starts a half hour later than I do.
Sure enough, sitting innocently on the lounge table are the keys that I have just spent twenty minutes looking for. "I'm stressed okay, I'm running late."
"You wouldn't be running late if you had opened your eyes." She winks at me, her hands smoothing non-existent creases on her navy-blue blazer.
