THE HALLWAY LEADING to the auditorium my art history class is held in is packed full of students. People weave around the groups of people who have decided the middle of the hallway is an excellent place to catch up and talk about weekend plans. I bite my tongue when I walk past them so I don’t make some snarky remark about their complete disregard for their surroundings.
This is the one building I didn’t tour when Zadie walked me around campus the other day. She said the auditorium is at the end of the long hallway, but this building is shaped like a misshapen ‘T’ and there are two long hallways here. And both lead to opposite sides of the building.
Getting up on my tippy-toes, I try to see around everyone. My shorter stature makes it hard to see if there are any signs posted on the walls to help get my bearings.
Frustrated with the students who keep blocking my path, I let out an annoyed huff when I shove around another group of them.
Coming out the other side, I search the hallway.
My world tilts as my eyes land on the figure.
I’ve barely had a chance to fully comprehend who I’m looking at as my feet turn into pieces of concrete and I come to an abrupt stop. All the oxygen leaves my body, and my lungs burn when I fail to inhale another breath.
It’s like everyone but the two of us is moving in fast forward. They turn into colorful blurs while we remain perfectly still, staring at each other, and the obnoxious chatter turns to soft, incoherent buzzing. For all I know, I’ve lost the ability to breathe and hear.
It’s been years, but I’d recognize him anywhere. The boy that I remember has turned into a man. It makes me wonder if I look as grown up as him. I don’t feel like I’ve changed, but I know I must have. Five years is a long time.
He looks exhausted with dark, almost purple, circles under his blue eyes. The smile that I remember so fondly is void from his angular face. Any signs of his adolescent features are gone, and before me stands a man I never thought I’d get to meet in person.
Paxton Blackwell is now a man.
That sadness residing in his gaze makes my heart crack like a fragile piece of glass, and just like I expected to happen, memories of the pain we shared between us come roaring to the surface.
Of the two brothers, I’m glad it’s Pax I’m seeing first. It hurts, but I know seeing his older brother will be excruciating in comparison. Sometimes, heartbreak never heals, no matter how much time passes. With each beat, it demands that you remember what you lost.
I want to go to him, but the second my foot lifts off the ground, Pax’s head slowly shakes. The move is so subtle I almost miss it. It’s like a silent warning, but I’m not exactly sure what he’s alerting me to. As a precaution, I look around me for danger but don’t find anything.
With his name on the tip of my tongue, I turn back to him, but as if in a puff of smoke, Pax has disappeared. The same longing I’ve fought for years overcomes me. For as long as I can remember, the Blackwell brothers were my constant, and even with how badly things ended for us, I missed them every day I was gone.
Against every instinct in my body, and my original plan to avoid them, I rush down the hallway after him. For so long, I dreaded the day I’d see him again, but in a turn of events, the brief glance I got wasn’t enough. There are a million questions I want to ask him. Mainly, I just want to bury my face in his chest and hug him like I used to. And I really want to know if he’s okay. It’s a silly question, given the circumstances, but I still want to hear his answer. And I want to be able to look him in the eyes when he does. The truth always sat in his eyes, even when we were all too blind to realize it.
I don’t bother with saying excuse me as I follow down the hallway after Pax. He couldn’t have gotten that far ahead of me, but every time I lift onto my toes, I can’t see his tall frame anywhere. He must have grown six inches since the last time I saw him. It’s a sad reality that the boy who used to be my best friend now looks like a stranger.
Frustrated, I pause and look in all directions for him. I go as far as peeping into a few of the classrooms with open doors, but still, I come up empty.
Dejected, I give up and reluctantly turn back toward the direction I’d come. One good thing came out of this, and it’s that I know for sure the auditorium I need to go to is on the other side of the building.
Staring at my shockingly shaky hands, my fingers clench and unclench as I try to soothe the nerves the fleeting encounter caused. Starting back down the hallway, I get no more than three feet when I’m abruptly pulled backward into the dark classroom I pass.
I try to fight the sudden grip on me, but the hands holding me by my upper arms are unrelenting. All my training has made me strong, but I’m no match for their brute strength. Without looking at them, I know they’re much taller than me. The hallway is so busy with people lost in their own conversations and dealings that my blatant abduction goes unnoticed. The second my lips part to yell for help, a hand slaps down on my face and painfully silences any of my attempts at being rescued.
My heart slams against my ribs almost as hard as the door slams after we enter the room. I don’t have time to inspect the dark classroom before I’m violently whirled around and the front of my body slams into the white wall.
Fighting against the hands gripping me, I try to turn my head to look at the person holding me hostage. My head barely turns an inch in their direction when their hand leaves my mouth to thread through the strands of my hair and the side of my face is pressed harshly into the wall. The unyielding pressure on my skull instantly makes a headache form, and I worry if I’m held like this for too long, bruising will form on my face. The logical side of my brain knows I shouldn’t be worried about something as insignificant as a bruise right now. I should be more worried about my life.
Panic begins to take over as adrenaline shoots through my veins. With their hand gone from my mouth, I could scream, but I’m too stunned to make a noise. I always said if I ever found myself in a situation like this, I would fight like hell. Instead, I find that the fear is making me freeze in place. My limbs are heavy and there’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
“Please…” My plea is a barely audible choked sob. I’m trying to fight the urge to cry, but my eyes are already burning as tears begin to form.
Chills of uncontainable terror run down my spine when they shift their body closer and their head drops down to mine. The chills only amplify when they finally speak.
“I knew he’d try to warn you,” he whispers darkly into my ear, so close I can feel his breath against my cheek. “He’s always had a soft spot for you. I suppose there was a time that we both did.” His other hand brushes the wild strands of my hair off my face with a tenderness I know is a lie. I’d almost prefer if he hurt me more. The softness of his touch holds the unspoken promise of pain. “Isn’t that right, Posie?”
Hearing him say my name after all this time is like a hot blade slicing through my soul.
It’s taken five years, but I’ve finally been reunited with the boy I gave all my firsts to. I gave him my heart, and in return, he gave me his. In the end, I looked him in the eyes while I broke it along with all the promises I made him.
I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to say his name out loud. It became something like a bad omen or reprehensible swear word. But when I choke out his name, it feels as familiar as it used to.
“Rafferty.”
It feels like coming home even though I know it’s an illusion.
I’m not home. I’m in enemy territory, and there are whispers of war in the air.
