#Chapter 2: Memories

It was true what Cathy had said. Charles was my high school crush.

But it was also true that it was so much more than that.Years had passed since high school, but the feelings I had during that period of my life were as strong as if they’d happened yesterday.

Back then, no one in my high school didn’t like Charles Rafe. He was the only student, except Cathy, that would smile to me and say hi. He even said my name correctly every time.

Gradually, he became the reason I got out of bed and went to class in the morning, just so I could sit silently behind him. His casual smile was the factor that made or broke my day.

There was no way he would remember me even if he was my new boss. Still, the idea of it made me smile into the night sky and wait for the screen to loop the interview so I could see his face one more time.

I gazed up at the screen, watching the commercials tick by.

The programs usually looped at least a half-dozen times before they moved on to the next thing, giving people time to see it as they walked through city squares.

I waited and was rewarded.

There he was again.

His sharp blue eyes took me out of the city square and suddenly I was back in Mr. Sellers’ senior English honors class. I sat in the back left corner seat trying not to be noticed and at the same time trying to absorb every bit of knowledge I could.

I loved that class because that is where I started my dream of becoming a journalist one day.

Charles and his numerous Alpha friends sat in the rows in front of me, laughing, smiling, and always having a good time.

Mr. Sellers enjoyed their cheerful presence in class, and they acted like a wall of sunshine between him and my hungry mind. Not that I minded.

Sitting behind Charles was heaven. Every time he moved his vetiver scent wafted toward me, and I often bent forward over a paper pretending to write just to be nearer to him.

There was also a moment I treasured when he would saunter in moments before the starting bell. Because he was kind, he would greet people on his way to his seat, and this included me.

He’d make eye contact with his piercing blue eyes, and we’d both smile.

“Hey, Elena.”

“Hi.”

And then he’d sit, his back turned, and that was it. But for me, it was enough to make my day. If we got to write a paper in class, the day was even better.

It was high school graduation before I got the courage to say more than a few words. I watched him walk across the stage, his diploma held high in triumph for the cheers from both the audience and the seated students, and was sure I wouldn’t see him again.

That knowledge gave me courage.

When I saw him walk toward his car alone after telling his friends he’d see them later at a party, I went that direction, too.

He paused to unlock the door. As I passed, I said, “Congratulations, Charles.”

He looked up, smiling.

“I thought I noticed you coming, Elena. Congratulations to you, too.”

I was surprised. He noticed me coming? Those words were reserved for those with discernable scents. For a moment we looked at each other, me stunned by his intense gaze.

“I…”

He looked at me with a small smile, patient and waiting. I forced the words out of my mouth.

“I was wondering, I know you have a ton of friends and things to do, but would you maybe like to have coffee with me or something? Next week? Or sometime.”

My words seemed to hang in the air and I felt my blood began to pound. I felt my face twist in agony, knowing I’d just made a fool of myself.

His smile faded a little. I wished I could look away and sink into the ground but his blue eyes held mine.

“I’m sorry, Elena,” he said. He looked intensely at me, as if wanting me to understand something he wasn’t saying.

I nodded, feeling my face flaming red.

“I totally understand. Well, good luck, and all that.”

“Wait, Elena.”

But I hadn’t. I’d walked off in a blur of humiliation.

What was I thinking? I’d raged at myself.

Obviously, he wouldn’t have said yes. We were so far apart that we might have been different species.

The memory of my humiliation made me groan even now, years later standing in a busy city square on a Friday night.

At least I’d tried. Thinking back, I’d have regretted not doing it despite the embarrassment.

I pulled out my phone as his interview started again and held it aloft toward his face, filming him. When the cl*p finished, I sent it to Cathy who texted back as I was walking away.

Still in love?

Of course not. Just a distant fangirl now.

You never know! She followed this with a winky face emoji. How about dinner this weekend? It’s been a while.

My heart warmed. Cathy was the most wonderful friend, though I never was able to shake the suspicion that she just felt bad for me.

When we were younger, she used to give me hugs and bury her nose in my hair and inhale. “You smell so good. Solid A to me. Why can nob*dy else sense it?” ”

I’d squeezed her back, feeling her refreshing lily scent surrounding me. “What do I smell like?”

“I can’t place it. But it’s gorgeous.”

I’d always assumed this was a joke to cheer me up. She had always been there for me, jokes or not, and I regretted having to turn her down for dinner.

I’m sorry. I have to save my job.

She sent a frowning face but then a gif of unicorns dancing together. Okay, babe. Don’t work too hard. Remember I love you.

Love you, too, I texted back, and smiled. I was so lucky.

I spent the rest of the weekend hardly moving from my desk or changing out of my pajamas while I combed through every project and noted every accolade.

By the time Craig’s scheduling link came through on Sunday night I was ready. I confidently scheduled the block mid-morning and went to bed knowing I’d done everything I could.

Despite knowing my looks made little difference, I took special care with my hair and outfit that morning. I wanted to look as deserving as my portfolio suggested. I even felt decent as I sat down five minutes before the scheduled time outside Craig’s office.

Laughter and casual discussion came from behind his closed door. I checked my watch, my stomach clenching.

This wasn’t good. My portfolio was good. I was valuable and I knew it. But if it came down to this type of banter I was in trouble.

The minutes ticked by and my appointment came and went. Five minutes, ten minutes. I could feel my muscles tensing and a headache coming on.

Finally, the door opened and a colleague walked by calling back, “Okay, see you, Craig.”

I stood and turned, looking at Craig who was leaning on the doorframe.

“Elena! Wonderful. Come on in.” He waved to a corner of the couch and I sat. He sat across from me in a chair and put his elbows on his knees. “Okay, Elena. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I sat up straight and put my portfolio on my knees where it seemed his gaze was fixed. I crossed my legs self-consciously, and began to talk. I sounded confident, competent.

I handed him a reference sheet with lists of successes and awards I’d been responsible for helping come about. He took the sheet and barely glanced at it, his eyes never leaving my bare knees.

When I’d finished there was a short pause.

“Do you have any questions?” I asked, nervous for the first time and shifting my legs to cross the other direction.

His eyes flickered up at me for the first time in the ten minutes I’d been talking. Then he stood and stretched, his paunch peeking out slightly from under his shirt.

He sat down on the couch and draped an arm over the couch behind me. He leaned closer.

I tried not to breathe in his licorice scent.

“I do have a question for you, Elena, but it’s not really about your portfolio.”

I felt my stomach drop. This couldn’t be good.