Chapter 4: The Reunion Sparks

Before going out on Tuesday, Caleb spent a long time getting ready in front of the mirror. From head to toe, not a single detail was neglected. He had a handsome face and a model’s build. Dressed up like this, he was even more striking.

He stood in our tiny bathroom, adjusting his tie for the fifth time, every strand of hair slicked perfectly into place. His cologne hung in the air, woodsy and fresh, the scent of someone about to make an impression. I watched from the doorway, arms crossed.

[Aubrey said men who dress up are probably looking for a side piece.]

The memory of her warning made me stifle a snort. But watching him fuss over his appearance, I couldn't help but wonder what image he wanted to project.

Caleb’s hand, about to spray hair gel, paused. Awkwardly, he set the hair gel down. He turned, his gaze quietly settling on my shoulder.

He hesitated for a beat, the hair gel still poised in his hand, before setting it down. Our eyes met in the mirror for a moment—a silent conversation passing between us.

“It’ll be cold tonight, bring a jacket.”

His voice was gentle, but the concern in it was genuine, almost paternal. He glanced at the weather app on his phone, even though the sun was still blazing outside.

“It’s ninety degrees tonight.”

“...Be careful on the way.”

He relented, stuffing his hands in his pockets, lips pressed together in a resigned smile. I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me felt warmed by his worry.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the private room was already full. Aubrey waved me over. I sat beside her. She nudged me and whispered, “Look at his hand.”

The chatter of old friends and the clink of glasses filled the room. I slid into the booth beside Aubrey, squeezing past a row of classmates in business-casual and weekend denim. Aubrey leaned in, the scent of her floral perfume familiar and nostalgic.

Derek Miller had lost some of his youthful awkwardness, chatting easily with others, holding a wine glass in his right hand. His sleeve slipped, revealing that old bracelet. It was a trinket I’d bought back in school, from a street vendor across from campus.

The room buzzed with laughter and gossip, but my eyes were drawn to the faded red beads circling Derek’s wrist. He caught me looking, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

In high school, Caleb was in the class next to mine. Our relationship was just so-so—childhood friends who grew up together, but we hardly interacted at school. But Caleb’s mom often asked him to bring me things, and he would wait for me at the classroom door every day after school. Over time, everyone knew about us. Then, people started to misunderstand our relationship. I explained a few times, but no one listened, so eventually I stopped bothering. Later, those rumors faded away. Because of Derek Miller.

I remembered how Caleb’s silent presence at my locker became a running joke, our names whispered in the halls. I’d try to explain that we were just neighbors, but high school rumors had a life of their own. Derek was the first to step in, breaking the tension with a joke or a well-placed distraction.

Whenever he had the chance, he’d help clear things up for me, even more actively than I did. After his constant pestering, classmates got annoyed and bored, and eventually stopped gossiping about me and Caleb.

Derek was persistent in the way only high school boys could be, making it his personal mission to redirect every rumor. By junior year, the teasing faded, replaced by new gossip and new crushes.

After school, to thank Derek, I treated him to a milkshake across from the school. That was the first time I didn’t go home with Caleb. Hearing my words, Caleb didn’t say much, just nodded lightly and left.

I could still picture that small diner, the worn vinyl booths and sticky plastic menus. Derek grinned at me across the table, chocolate milkshake in hand, as I glanced nervously at the clock, knowing Caleb was waiting at the curb.

Derek and Caleb were completely different. Derek was warm and cheerful, never hiding his emotions. Happy was happy, unhappy was unhappy. At eighteen, he confessed to me. I didn’t really understand what it meant to like someone or not. It was only after Derek confessed for the thirty-fifth time that I agreed.

Derek’s optimism was relentless, like a golden retriever that refused to take a hint. Eventually, his enthusiasm wore me down, and I said yes—not because I was swept off my feet, but because I was curious what all the fuss was about.

Derek pestered me, insisting I say I liked him. I was so worn down I gave in: “Mm, I like you.”

The words came out awkward and flat, but Derek beamed, his happiness filling the air between us.

After I said it, I saw Caleb. He was standing in the doorway, backlit, his handsome brows and eyes shrouded in shadow, black hair fluffy and soft under the setting sun, as if dusted with gold. His expression was calm, betraying no emotion. I felt a little embarrassed.

The sunlight haloed him, making him look older and more distant than his years. I avoided his eyes, fiddling with the frayed end of my backpack strap.

Derek had one hand in his pocket, the other holding my backpack, the bunny keychain Caleb had given me still hanging from it. He smiled boldly and recklessly. “Hey Caleb, Natalie and I are together now. From now on, I’ll take her home. Thanks for before. I’ll treat you to a burger sometime.”

Derek’s confidence bordered on cocky, and I cringed a little, wishing I could disappear into the floor. Caleb’s expression remained unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes.

Caleb stared at Derek, lips pressed into a straight line. Even someone as slow as me could sense the strange atmosphere. I walked over and pulled Derek away, saying to Caleb, “Caleb, I’ll be home late. Tell my parents for me.”

I mumbled the words, barely meeting his eyes. He nodded, his face shadowed by the setting sun.

“...Alright.”

After that, I never went home with Caleb again.

The walk home with Derek was filled with nervous laughter and awkward glances. It felt like the end of something, though I wasn’t sure what.