Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,2
States slid past as quickly and platonically as someone scrolling over the page of a book they’d already read a million times. Tension clawed at my gut, and, not for the first time on the never-ending plane ride, I regretted not pocketing a few of Hannah’s anxiety pills. She’d never notice. Her side of the bedside table was stacked with a sampler of Xanax, Clonazepam, and whatever other meds she could convince herself and a doctor that she needed.
While I’d never been a fan of flying (there’s something about the logistics of being utterly helpless to control my surroundings that really doesn’t sit well with me), it wasn’t the main ingredient of the stew boiling through my nervous system. It had been a month since Cam’s phone call, and my obsession with acing finals had kept me from thinking of my looming summer plans.
It had crashed down on me with a vengeance the moment I secured my safety belt back in North Carolina, and remained even now as we circled LAX, minutes from landing.
“Is it your first time in California?” the boy who’d spent the flight one empty seat away asked, powering off the iPod that had been consistently humming through his ear buds. He looked young, probably still in high school, and definitely not old enough to be shooting me such flirty looks.
I sighed as my eyes fell back out the window.
“I’m from Pasadena.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared something personal about my life, even such a minuscule detail. I told myself it was harmless. He was just some kid that I’d never see again.
It felt strange to speak of California as my home: half relief and half bubbling nausea. Ever since I’d fled, nearly four years earlier, I’d done everything in my power to put literal and metaphorical distance away from my past. I wanted to escape the life I’d had, the family I’d left behind, and most of all, the girl I’d been.
It was a door I didn’t plan on opening, despite my return. My parents still lived in Pasadena, and while it was just a short trip from there to LA, it was one they didn’t frequent. This town was big enough that they never even had to know I was here. Actually, if they’d heard Cam was back in town, Mr. and Mrs. Adair had probably moved cities, maybe even countries. I could only imagine how much they hated him.
“Yeah,” the boy agreed, giving me an appreciative once-over. His eyes jumped down my body, hitting the big three: blonde hair, pretty face, and nice rack. “I can definitely see the California girl in you.”
I rolled my eyes, not even the lure of a distraction could entice me into continuing that conversation. I fell back into silence, watching the world below race up to meet us.
As I slowly shuffled off the aircraft and through the airport, the drawer in my mind where I’d carefully locked away my feelings for Cam and what we’d gone through together rattled and shook, demanding attention. I hated how nervous I was. It was just Cam. I rallied together a hundred familiar memories of him, hoping to shame my emotions clean of their worthless anxiety. I was careful to steer clear of memories of before though. Before things had been so irreversibly changed between us.
I spotted him almost instantly as I rode down the escalator to the main floor. My eyes were drawn to him like a magnet finally finding its mate.
Happy reunions and weepy farewells exploded around me like fireworks, but I could only see him.
His honey-colored hair was shorter, cut into cleaner lines, and his jeans actually fit his lean hips for once. Both changes alluded to the money he had to spend on more frivolous things.
For a second, I was struck by the oddness of our role reversals. Cam was wearing designer clothes, living in California, and I was flying in from his hometown, dressed in clothes I’d slept in the night before.
I watched him, seeing the exact moment he picked me out of the moving cluster, his chocolate eyes coming to life. There was no hesitation as he strode forward to meet me. He stopped short, only a few steps shy of being able to embrace me, with a wide grin on his handsome face.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” It had been three years, and he greeted me like I was his fraternity brother getting back from class.