Page 5 of Only You

FOUR

Cason is a little shit. I should be angry with him—inviting Remy to dinner and catching me off guard like that—but for some reason, I just can’t seem to be all that angry.

I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to see him again until he was right there. I told myself to stay away, but how am I supposed to do that when he shows up for dinner?

I sit in my truck and stare at the quaint and small blue house on the corner of the street—the address given to me by Remy earlier this week when we made plans to hang out tonight after work.

I took what felt like the world’s longest shower after I clocked out at the mechanic shop where Kellan and I both work—but I still feel the grease under my fingernails.

I wonder if it’ll bother him.

He’s so well-put-together now. A far cry from the small kid, who was often in dirty, ripped clothes I once knew. I decide to quit stalling and climb out of my truck, heading up the walk. I take in the neatly trimmed grass and the small flower bed in front of his porch.

I smile to myself as I ring the doorbell. Remy answers a moment later. If I had to guess I’d say he’s dressed in the same clothes he wore to school today—a nice button-down and gray slacks.

He kind of reminds me of Phillip a little, which really makes me laugh for some reason. “What’s so funny?” he asks nervously.

“Oh nothing,” I say with a grin. “Just kind of wild that I’m here.”

His smile seems to brighten at that, and it’s reminiscent of that smile I used to know before whatever happened, happened, and he seemed to lose it. I have a huge sense of relief when he smiles.

“Hi, come on in.” He seems a little jittery as he moves out of the way to let me step into his home. I walk inside, my eyes taking in the clean, minimally decorated house as he closes the door behind me.

“This is nice.”

“Thank you,” he says politely and leads me into the living room. We sit down on the gray sofa, each of us on one end.

We sit there in a totally uncomfortable silence, his back completely straight and stiff. I don’t know what to do with my own hands—something I’ve never encountered before, but seriously? Where should I put them? On my knees? That seems weird. Tucked under my thighs?

No. Definitely not that.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Um, I’m making lasagna. It should be done soon. I hope that’s okay,” Remy says, his eyes on me with uncertain thoughtfulness, like I might tell him I hate it or something.

Because he doesn’t know.

Because we haven’t seen each other since we were kids. “Sounds good,” I say, still having no idea where to put my goddamn hands.

I clear my throat and push one of the unruly little fuckers through my hair, my other hand just uselessly twitching at my side.

And then Remy does something that comes totally out of nowhere.

He laughs. A full, beautiful, hearty laugh.

It’s so unexpected that it startles a laugh out of me, even though I have no idea what we’re laughing about.

Which only makes him laugh harder. Which of course, does the same to me.

I have tears leaking out of my eyes as I wipe at my face and finally ask, “What’s so funny? ”

He tries to quell his laughter, failing for quite a while, then wrapping an arm around his stomach and shaking his head. “It’s just... Why is this so awkward? Have you even been in such an awkward situation?” He’s still laughing, and the sound is perfect.

I don’t remember him laughing much when we were kids, but when he did, I know I felt like I’d won the lottery.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “We’ve known each other for so long. It shouldn’t be weird.”

He starts to calm his laughter a tiny bit, still grasping his stomach from the full-on belly laugh. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other though.”

That sobers me up a little as I nod, not worrying so much about my hands anymore. “So what have you been up to in the past ten years or so?”

“Twelve,” he corrects, and I let out a low whistle.

“Time really does fly.”

He nods in agreement.

“Principal at twenty-four is almost unheard of, right? I mean, that’s like really young.” I hope I don’t sound like an asshole, but he takes my curiosity in stride, tilting his chin up high and proud.

“Well, I graduated from high school two years early.” I can’t hide my shock, not that I should be surprised. He was always really smart. Hell, he helped me with my homework, and I was three grades above him. “And then I graduated from college in just under three years.”

“Damn, Remy. That’s impressive,” I say with pride, even though I have nothing to do with it whatsoever. If anything, I’m sure I held him back.

He looks bashful as his cheeks pink up, and he lifts his shoulder, trying to dismiss just how impressive it is.

“I was offered a teaching job right out of college and was lucky when the principal job came up last year. I jumped at the chance, and no one else really wanted it.” He gives me a shy grin.

“And I’ll be twenty-five in a couple of weeks. ”

“September 15th,” I say, the date floating back to me effortlessly.

His eyes shine with surprise. “You remember my birthday.”

It’s not a question, but I still dumbly say, “Yeah.”

His smile is small, but I don’t miss it. He looks quite pleased which makes me puff up a little. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

I grab the back of my neck with my hand, and I don’t miss the way his eyes roam over my bicep, his gaze an intimate caress I’m not really sure what to do with.

I’m sure he’s just surprised by the amount of ink on my arm, but I can’t say I hate the way he admires it.

“I didn’t go to college. Barely finished high school but did. ”

He smiles. “And what do you do now?”

I like that he doesn’t seem to judge me about not going to college. I have to admit his résumé is a little intimidating. “I’m a mechanic.”

“That’s fantastic,” he says, his eyes lighting up, and he looks genuinely happy for me. “I remember you always being fascinated by cars.”

I smile at the memory. “Yeah, guess that never faded.”

“So, it seems like things are going pretty well.”

“They are,” I say honestly. “And it’s never boring, that’s for sure, with Kellan and his family around.”

“They seem like a lot of fun,” he says, and I can’t help but notice that neither of us are going too deep into this conversation.

Skirting around how I met Kellan and anything real, but I find myself more than okay with that. I don’t want to revisit the past, and it seems Remy doesn’t want that either.

We’re both content just making conversation about his job at the school and my job as a mechanic.

We chat a little bit about a particular pain in the ass client I had this week who insisted we’d said her car would be finished in one day, when in fact I’d run down the probability that it would likely take three days with her before she handed her keys over.

When the lasagna is done, we move into his kitchen, and I make quick work of setting the small dining room table while he gets the lasagna out of the oven and a quick salad prepared. We sit down together, and the conversation once again is light and easy.

Like we weren’t two broken kids at one point, desperate to hang on to one another. Like the past hadn’t torn our friendship apart and I hadn’t been living with guilt for over a decade for leaving him behind.

It’s all very normal. Effortless.

I find out that he’s a vegetarian when I bite into the lasagna expecting beef and only finding cheese, but it’s fucking delicious.

So when he starts to apologize, I wave him off and ask for seconds when I finish with the first plate.

It doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t say anything about the chicken at Kellan’s place.

He’s always tried to keep the peace—not make waves.

I suppose it’s the same now. But I make a mental note to let Kellan and Phillip know, in case he joins us for dinner in the future.

I wish I could say I was relieved when it starts to get late and he walks me to the door, no serious discussions brought up. No tough subjects whatsoever.

It was just a nice, normal, quiet dinner.

And I realize just how badly I hate the fact that we haven’t talked about anything from the past. How I didn’t ask him if he hates me. Or, if he’s forgiven me, just how he did that because I can’t forgive myself.

I want him to tell me what happened to make him lose that smile and if it’s really back or if he’s faking it for me.

I want to tell him how sorry I am that I pushed him so hard. That I didn’t come back for him when he pushed me away.

But I didn’t do any of that, and I’m left feeling empty as I reach for my keys in my pocket and try to stall. I don’t want to leave yet. I don’t want tonight to be fake or some kind of act.

“Can I see you again?” I ask. His eyes immediately grow large, and I run over the words to see what part of it seemed to freak him out.

“I mean, unless this was enough of a catch up and you don’t really want to hang out again,” I add, playing with my keys in my hands that have once again gone all twitchy and nervous, not knowing what to do.

“Um, of course I want to hang out again, Tatum. I um...” I wait for what he’s going to say, but he seems to stop himself and pivot, a quick laugh falling from his lips. “I’d love to hang out again.”

“Yeah?” I light up at that, realizing I hadn’t blown it. That maybe after all these years, I might just get my friend back. “I’ll see you around then.”

He just smiles that beautiful smile at me.

“Can’t wait,” I say honestly before bouncing out to my truck, feeling pretty damn satisfied with the way the night went.

Cason may have been trying to be a little shithead, but I think his meddling may have been one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I might finally get Remy back after all these years.