Her fingers tightened on her cup until the plastic rim cracked.
“It’s Reece!” Amy chirped unnecessarily. Her curly hair bounced as she stood on her tiptoes to see their class secretary through the crowd.
Bathed in the glow of the party lights, Reece Krueger’s green eyes widened as he took in the crowd. Not that Charlotte could see his eye color from across the patio, but she was alarmed to discover that she remembered it: a lovely light jade like sea glass.
One side of his mouth still smiled higher than the other. Resting happy face, Jackie called it a million years ago.
A node of dread lodged itself in Charlotte’s throat. She’d been so focused on whether Ben would attend the reunion that she forgot to worry about her other boy ex.
She didn’t know what she felt, only that it was a dark, uneasy shade of blue.
“Good evening!” Reece said a little too loud, and the feedback hissed again. He laughed self-consciously as the alumni winced. “Sorry about that. This is, um, not my specialty.”
Even from across the party, she could see Reece’s smile wilt. He took a deep breath like he was steeling himself, and that millisecond of vulnerability sent her heart thundering in her chest.
“I’m Reece Krueger, your class secretary.” He played with the mic cord as he spoke—a nervous tell. He and Charlotte were both fidgeters. “Welcome to Reunion and Commencement Weekend!”
The crowd applauded. Charlotte put her battered cup down on the bench and brought her hands together halfheartedly.
“I don’t have remarks planned. This is supposed to be Kahini’s speech, but her flight was delayed, so you’ve got me instead.”
Someone wolf-whistled. Reece threw the corner of the party an easy grin. Charlotte could just make out the laughing face of Garrett Davis, former hockey team goalie, president of the Black Student Union, and Reece’s best friend.
“I’ll keep this brief,” Reece continued. “We’ve got a great weekend planned for you. Obviously you found your way to our reception. Our class dinner is tomorrow at Beckman Hall. Tickets are still on sale.”
Charlotte could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears.
He looked good. No, that was inadequate. Reece looked incredible. His dark brown hair was styled back from his face, a dramatic change from the shaggy mess of senior year. He wore the hell out of a V-neck under a knit sweater, the cozy kind popping up all over Instagram these days. She knew implicitly that the sweater was a hand-me-down from his dad.
A storage container of vivid emotions toppled over in Charlotte’s mind. More swampy green guilt. Sunny orange curious. The vibrant lilac of longing.
Nina touched her elbow, jarring her out of her thoughts. Her ex-girlfriend raised an eyebrow. Charlotte straightened up and plastered a smile on her face.
“You can find a full list of events on the website. The R&C committee asked me to remind you that the official hashtag is #HeinRandC2018, but please don’t use it to post drunk selfies. Keep it PG for the students and their families.”
Garrett Davis booed at this request. Reece ignored him.
“Speaking of drunk selfies, the Lawn Party is on Saturday night.” This announcement earned a cheer. Reece’s responding grin seemed forced, but she doubted anyone else could tell. “You know the rules: Doors open at eight, cash bar. Alumni are welcome to join the new grads as they dance away their last night on campus. And in the morning, we’ll have a picnic on the quad.”
“I can’t wait,” Jio stage-whispered.
Charlotte chewed on her thumb, nodding automatically.
“Okay, here’s the part I’m bad at.” Reece took a deep breath. Her throat seized with secondhand anxiety as she watched him steady himself, his fingers gripping the microphone. The crowd waited patiently for him, and he seemed to channel their warmth as he launched into his pitch. “If you find yourself feeling the love for Hein this weekend, please consider showing it with a donation to the school. Our class has given the least to Hein’s capital campaign—”
“Yeah, ’cause we’re broke!” Garrett piped up, triggering a ripple of laughter. Reece’s smile didn’t slip, but she could see his eyes tighten.
“If you want to learn more about how to give to Hein, you can ask any of the class officers.”
“Fat chance,” Nina murmured. “He must be miserable up there.”
Amy nodded sympathetically. “He looks great, though!”
Charlotte picked her party cup back up and took a swig.
“The Development Fund supports the whole school, from the construction of new buildings to financing need-blind admissions, which I know y’all support. So if you have that cash, show it. I’m looking at you, Batty. Fork over some of that Bitcoin.” Reece grinned at his singled-out classmate, who gave a good-natured wave from the bar.
The smile on Reece’s face sent Charlotte’s heart lurching like the subway when some jackass pulled the emergency brake. For a moment she was a college senior again, dressed up and looking for Reece at some party. Sticky and nervous and hungry—practically starving for distraction.
Reece would smile at her when she finally found him. Like he’d been waiting for her to make up her mind and follow him out the door.
“Okay, that’s enough from me. Have fun, everyone!”
Reece hopped off the stone wall, and she lost sight of him in the crowd. The noise of the party dialed up again as conversations resumed. Her friends began chatting like nothing earth-shattering had happened at all.
“Are any of you donating?” Amy asked the group. “I feel bad for him.”
“I’ll do it for his sake,” Nina said. “They’re not getting more than fifty dollars out of me.”
Charlotte didn’t listen. Her brain churned over Reece’s big smile and the warm timbre of his voice.
He looked healthy. Filled out, better dressed, a new maturity in his posture. Strained but alert. In college, Reece only seemed serious when they were alone.
She remembered his hard stomach under her fingers, the way his muscles tightened as she breathed across his skin. His wide mouth open in a gasp, white teeth glinting. How he always knocked twice on her apartment door late at night.
Another memory followed like a bitter chaser. She cringed as she recalled the last moment she saw him at their own graduation day picnic.
In all the time she spent anticipating the reunion, she never considered what it would feel like to be around Reece again. She knew he was attending—as class secretary, he signed every email about the upcoming reunion. But any anxiety she felt when she read his name in her inbox paled in comparison to the terror of a possible encounter with Ben and the stress of preparing for Roger’s commencement address. She could only deal with so much, only feel so much, before her brain went dark like a blown fuse. Reece got bumped down the priority list, just as he did in college.
