Spring Break

What Happens in Cancún, stays in Cancún

What happens in Cancún, stays in Cancún. That's how it was supposed to go.

My three best friends and I had made a pact right before we left for our junior spring break, promising that this would be the most reckless and spontaneous week of our lives. We were finally going to live. By our standards, living included: laying out by the beach everyday, drinking until we couldn't see straight, and "taking life by the balls" (at least that's what Rachel would say).

Seeing Lucas Friedman again was never in the cards. Never. My brief interaction with Lucas was supposed to stay in Cancún, along with the rest of our mistakes. During one of the brief moments we weren't making out, he mentioned that he lived with his mom in Arizona. Now here he was, walking the same halls I've spent the last three years of my life in, definitely not in Arizona.

I'll never forget seeing him walking in his Michigan State hoodie, holding his paper schedule out in front of him like a compass, looking so... perfect. Almost too perfect. The same wild hair my hands were wrapped in just months ago was now tamed, held back by gel. He's not as tan as I remembered him, either. The only similarity between that first day of school and that one night in April was his charm. He made my childhood crush, Max Lewis, look dull in comparison—and Max was hot. Ever since puberty found Max in middle school, he had been dubbed the High School Cutie. But now that Lucas was here, there is no doubt in my mind that he'd be the guy everyone would be talking about. After all, our school is tiny and word travels fast. The thing with Lucas and attention, though, was that he never seemed to notice what people said about him. Or maybe it was that he did notice, but just didn't care.

This was another moment where Lucas was just not caring. He was walking with his head down, unaware that I had stopped in my tracks the moment I saw him from across the hall. My heartbeat had somehow managed to move from my chest to my head. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he glanced up at me. For that one second our eyes met, he nearly stopped in his tracks as well. His dark green eyes flickered with recognition, and I could see his mouth fall open in a mixture of what I was sure to be confusion and excitement—the same rush I had felt just mere moments before.

He was about to say something to me, but I wasn't there to hear it. I was already running.