Ryan

I didn’t expect to run into her so soon. When I suggested the band come to my hometown of Chandler, Ohio, to work on our next album, I knew I would see her at some point. Statistically, it was inevitable. It’s a small damned town. That it’s happening within the first hour of arriving back was not the plan. Recognizing her long chocolate brown hair, I know her the instant my eyes catch sight of her. Sarah Lawrence. Watching her from inside the gas station, and basically blocking the door for all incoming and outgoing traffic, not that I care, takes my breath away. She’s standing by the back of her car while filling it up, her eyes are closed, and I can tell she’s in her own little world, humming a song to herself as she always does.

The early evening slanting sun shines on her hair, casting a copper glow on her beautiful, suntanned face. Sarah is simply stunning, and my breath catches a little as I take her in. Her curves still curve in a way that drives me nuts, and a new dragonfly tattoo forms part of a half sleeve on her right arm. We’d talked about her wanting to add that particular one, and I’m happy she followed through. It suits her perfectly. Quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful. That’s my Sarah. Well, not my Sarah.

“Excuse me,” an older woman says impatiently as she pushes me aside in a hurry to return to her car. She glances back and gives me a vicious glare while shaking her head like she’s got any clue what’s happening in mine. She has no idea I suddenly spotted the unrequited love of my life, and at that moment, my heart left my body and dropped to the grimy store floor. Metaphorically, of course, but this lady doesn’t realize that. Not letting her distract me, my focus is strictly on Sarah, who is still oblivious that I’m only around thirty feet away from her, watching her like some stalker.

Shit, I think, abruptly aware of how horrifyingly creepy I must appear to everyone around me. I glance down at the power drink in my right hand and the car keys in my left, as if they’ll give me some clue as to what I’m supposed to do with myself. Right. I stopped to buy a bottle of water on my way to my band’s hotel. No big deal. Did I pay for this already? I did, right? Fuck, Ryan, get your shit together.

Shifting back to the doors, I’m unsure if I should make myself known to Sarah or slink out with my head and face obscured somehow. My baseball cap mostly does the trick, and I’m pretty good about going incognito to escape getting recognized, but I didn’t foresee hiding in my own town. Not that I’m super famous, but our band’s popularity is picking up a little, and I can’t always guess what to expect from people. This moment caught me completely off guard, even though I envisioned my reunion with Sarah a million times in my head. To be fair, our meeting again did not happen at the corner gas station whenever I dared to picture it, but here we are. I need to figure a way out of this. I am not prepared to face her yet.

Acting on impulse, I duck my head deeper into my hat and speed walk to my car without flat out running to avoid being inconspicuous. I probably look like a complete idiot to anyone paying me any mind. My feet slide a little on the greasy concrete as I move past Sarah, whose eyes are still shut, and I can hear a snippet of the tune she is singing to herself. The sound of her sweet voice carrying on the wind sends a tingling down the skin of my arms. One of the hardest things I’ll ever do is go past her; without acknowledging her, calling to her, being in her presence without her detecting that I’m here. My heart lurches a little, and I have to take a deep breath.

This isn’t the time or place for a reunion. The band still needs to settle in at their hotel, and I want to get myself situated at my mom’s house and hang out with her at least for a little while. I haven’t seen her in person for almost a year, and even then, she had to come visit me while I was on the road. Close to three years have gone by since my last time here in town, and this is the exact reason why. I knew as soon as I saw Sarah, I would lose all control. All the bricks in the wall I built around me and my heart would instantly crumble, and I was right. The dust and ash of those bricks and mortar are falling all around, getting ready to choke me.

Jumping into my car, I slump down behind the wheel as much as my 6’2” frame can, quietly thanking our manager Vanessa in my head for renting one with tinted windows. At least if Sarah looks around, she won’t see me. I don’t start the car but continue to stare silently as Sarah finishes filling her tank, her eyes popping open when the pump automatically stops. I could watch her when she gets in her musical reveries all day. Her singing is the purest form of happiness I know on the planet. She grabs her receipt, frowning at it briefly before getting into her car. It hits me then she’s driving her mother’s Honda. The sedan must be pretty old by now, and it’s odd she’s not using the new car she bought a few years ago when she graduated from college. It makes me wonder if she’s been in an accident or something since I saw her last. This thought makes my mind go dark, imagining her hurt or worse. I shake my head to clear those thoughts and look on as she carefully pulls onto the road, heading further out of town in the direction of her house on the lake. Maybe she just filled up her mom’s car for her. It would be like her to do that for someone else.

I’m so tempted to follow her. To go to her house and tell her I never stopped thinking about her. I never stopped loving her. Of course, I’d never told her I loved her in the first place, so that would probably freak her out. I let that chance slip through my fingers long ago, so I can’t do that. I need to play it cool. I feel enough like a damned stalker already from just watching her here. Sighing loudly, I push the air out of my chest, which is suddenly heavy with a weight I’ve not felt in a long time. The significance of my feelings for Sarah could drown me if I let them. I can’t let them. Not now that I almost learned how to live with them. Almost being the keyword