I flick off the radio and stare at his apartment door. The door closes and I draw in a deep breath. When he turns his head, I catch sight of his profile under the mop of curls as he unlocks the door to 5C. I don’t recognize the curly hair but as the guy starts walking, the swagger looks familiar. All I can make out is the back of his T-shirt, which says Absolute Lawn Care. When a guy bounds out of the driver’s side, he’s facing away from me. Clueless about what he drives, I lean forward, fists clenched so hard that my pink nails dig into my palms. Older now, I’m stronger, wiser, and confident in myself.Īn older Chevy Blazer pulls in front of apartment 5C. Taking in a deep breath, I force myself to calm down and control my emotional turmoil.
Memories I’ve suppressed for over three years roll through me and set my pulse hammering like a war drum. The song is supposed to be pumping me up, but my stomach is tight from nerves. The steady beat of Breaking Benjamin’s “I Will Not Bow” pounds from the car stereo. I fight the urge to hightail it back to the university on the county road that brought me here. It’s the middle of the afternoon and things are quiet.
The apartment lot is only half full, and I’m parked on the far edge under the shade of a tree. Like a stalker, I sit in my car waiting for him to come home.
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