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  • Writer's picturejodi

Part Two of Seven


“Rae?” I hear faintly from a distance behind me, the hum of voices and boom of the music from the surrounding patio bars drowning out the voice.

“Raegan!” the voice shouts more anxiously this time, closer than the last, almost on top of me.

“Charlie?” is directly behind me as I turn, his eyes instantly lock on mine, a smile filling his face.

“It’s been forever”, escapes from my lips in a slightly winded gush, making me sound as if I am disappointed by the thought and to my own surprise, my cheek aching smile tells me that I am.

“Are you the president yet?” his joke spins me right back to our childhood and just like that I am on my ten-speed bike watching him play ball.

But here in the present I am up on my tiptoes as we embrace; the warmth from a tight hug of a long, lost friend fills me. My hands innocently feel the definition of the muscles of his back through his thin summer shirt, he looks good in plaid. His warm strong arms wrap around my bare shoulders, slightly pulling the ends of my hair. He is intuitive to my near discomfort, he smoothes my hair over my shoulder. I am momentarily bewildered by his intimate knowing gesture. The hair on his tanned arms tickles my skin, suddenly causing me to be very cognizant of our proximity. Without realizing it I breathe him in, it sends a wave of heat into the pit of my stomach, my knees slightly weaken. He has never had this type of effect on me before. I let go. We both start talking so fast, racing to sum up our lives and get out as many words as we can. My friends stand by watching in awe, wondering who this beyond handsome man is that has grabbed my undivided attention. This entertains them for a moment, as they have never witnessed this side of me before but then they carry on into the bar with laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I see them walk away, glad for this moment alone. He did not look like this the last time I saw him. In fact, at this moment, I do not believe anyone has ever looked this good to me before.

His eyes sparkle in my direction with adoration, “The old man finally let you out, huh? It’s been years”.

“Something like that” I blush in response, oh that’s right I recall, crashing back down to earth, the old man, my husband.

Then out of nowhere I’m arrested out of this bubble by the tug of an impatient, protective, not so entertained and seemingly rude friend; “Rae. Let’s go”.

“One more big hug before you leave” he grins reading my face as he pulls me out of her grasp, “It might have to sustain me another twenty years.” Oh, how I could sustain you, is my instinctive thought. I shake my head at disbelief of my own mind, it must be the wine. My finger tips are the last thing to graze his amazingly soft skin, running down his sinewy forearms, my nerve endings on sensory overload, sending shivers through my entire being, a feeling I have never, ever experienced. I wonder if he feels it too. How could he not.

To be continued...

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