So I've decided that there just aren't enough hours in the day. This chapter had been almost done over the weekend but the second school started I didn't even have time to look at it. On top of that I've had piles of work and been sick but I do love this chapter so I hope it ends up being worth the wait. Thanks for putting up with my terrible uploading delays. 

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xo.

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"There are certain people who come into your life, and leave a mark. I'm talking about the ones who, for whatever reason, are as much a part of you as your own soul. Their place in your heart is tender; a bruise of longing, a pulse of unfinished business. Just hearing their names pushes and pulls at you in a hundred ways, and when you try to define those hundred ways, describe them even to yourself, words are useless. If you had a lifetime to talk, there would still be things left unsaid." 

-Sweethearts

Chapter 8               Grade 12

May 1

"I can't believe the nerve of him!"

"I know"

"Seriously, how can he just waltz in here everyday like he owns the place?" Grace fumed from across the counter. 

She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a glare at the back of his head, letting out a huff of indignation. 

"Because everyone lets him. Look at the way they all keep glancing over in his direction, just what are they waiting for? Whatever it is, it's hardly worth it. I would know." I said bitterly.

I realized I had been angrily scrubbing the counter in the same spot for the last few minutes and tossed the rag aside with a sigh.

He'd been back now for a week, and like clockwork showed up minutes after my shift started at the cafe. 

I didn't know what his game was, what he was trying to prove, but if he was trying to get to me, it was working. 

The first day should have been the hardest, but every day since had been like falling repeatedly on a bruise; initially it felt worse and then it just got numb. 

"I just wish there was something I could do,” She said with a sigh. "Maybe I could go find that baseball bat…?"

I laughed and shook my head, though in reality I'd already had that visual image several times.

"He's not worth it, and besides I can't let anything happen here, I need this job"

Unfortunately, it was something Michael had caught on to. He knew I wouldn’t let my anger get the best of me here. 

He knew he could damn well get away with anything. 

But it was all under the radar. 

For better or worse, Moonbeams had somehow become neutral ground. 

The incredulous looks he'd received the first day had been happening with less frequency, people were getting used to his being back in town, which may have been what he wanted all along. 

But always, always, when he approached the counter for his increasingly specific coffee orders we would have an audience. 

Eyes greedy for drama watched the exchange, waiting for the confrontation. 

As far as anyone saw we treated each other cordially, it was only in the subtle looks and seemingly innocent comments across the counter where our battle of wills took place. 

It made me feel like we were a ticking bomb and they were just waiting for us to go off. 

Tick.

But I couldn’t let that happen. 

"Uh-oh, speak of the devil, incoming at 6'o clock…  I mean 12'o clock, wait, how does that work?"

I was safe behind the counter I told myself, safe in my role as a barista, this was neutral ground, but I tensed up all the same. 

"Hey Arya"

"Michael"

There was a moment’s tense silence between us, which had the distinct feeling you only get during a staring contest.

Tick.

Tick.

"It’s rude to ignore a pretty girl you know, I'm Grace"

We both blinked and looked towards Grace, for a second I'd forgotten she was there. Michael recovered first and stuck his hand out, player's smile immediately in place.

"Pleasure to meet you Grace"

She glanced down at his hand and then back up to meet his eyes. 

"I don't like you"

He looked puzzled, and just that was enough to make me want to laugh, but I refrained. 

Neutral ground.

"Err, right. Good to know" He said slowly running his outstretched hand through his hair. 

There was just something so satisfying about seeing him confused.

She rolled her eyes at him and took a few steps to the side, waiting at the end of the counter like my own personal bodyguard. 

The whole thing was just so un-Grace-like I couldn't help but smile, try as I might to keep a straight face. 

He shrugged, and turned back to me, ready for round two.

"Nice day"

"It was"  

He lips twitched up just slightly, the semblance of a smile, but it was unconscious, like he was trying not to, and that worried me. 

Sure, he was still his overconfident superior self, but now and then over the last three days I'd seen it, the hint of a real smile. A rarity, and only distinguishable because I'd never seen it directed at me before. 

Definitely cause to worry. 

It was like the calm before a storm, those few moments of peace and stagnant silence that held a sense of foreboding for any who listened close enough to hear it. 

But I had no idea what it meant, and it always put him one step ahead.

"I'll have a medium upside down, half-cafe, caramel maachiato, double shot, extra foam"

The smirk that followed made it obvious this order, like the rest, was designed to annoy me. 

Fine. 

He could have whatever little triumph was afforded him by holding up the line with his pathetic specifications, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of reacting, or messing up the order. 

I'd been working here long enough to mix that up in my sleep, he could have his perfect coffee, and choke on it for all I cared. 

Forcing a smile I turned back to the machine. Ordering coffee was the only reasonable excuse he had for talking to me, and the faster I gave him his drink, the sooner he was out of my sight. 

"Medium upside down, half-cafe, caramel maachiato, double shot, extra foam" I repeated as I slid the drink across the counter towards him. 

He smiled widely and brought the cup up to his lips, taking a long sip and sighing contentedly, dallying unnecessarily.

"Perfect as always Ary"

Tick.

He pulled out his money, hand fumbling with the wallet in an exaggerated manner that had to be purposeful, before finally dropping some coins down on the counter.

He winked, "Keep the change babe" 

Tick.

"And Grace, it really was a pleasure" 

The coins continued to clatter as he made his way back across the café, drumming their mocking beat in time to his steps.

Tick, tick, tick.

***

I closed the door quietly behind me, but I needn't have worried, they were both asleep. It was one of the only perks of working on a school night. 

Not wanting to turn on any lights I ran my hand along the wall and tiptoed up the stairs to my room, tossing by backpack and keys on the bed before reaching blindly for my desk lamp. 

I waited for the small halo of light to illuminate the bed before crouching down and looking under it. 

There.

Right at the back, just where I'd left it two years ago…

I pulled out the box, blowing off a thin layer of dust that should have had two years to accumulate, but in reality only ever stayed untouched for a few months at a time.

As always when I pulled it out I felt guilty. 

Guilty that I still held on to these things, that I hadn't thrown them away like Grace had advised, that I still came back to them over and over.

Pathetic.

But even so I opened the lid, peered into a world full of memories that should have been long gone, a mirror into the past.  

It had finally caught up to me. 

I'd held out a week, but I couldn't resist any longer. 

I pulled out the first thing in the box, my playbill from A Christmas Carol. 

Every surface on it was filled with signatures and messages from the cast. 

You could tell how many cards the person had signed by how sloppy their handwriting was by the time they got to yours. 

He'd talked to me that day, the first real conversation we'd ever had, and seeing him at work everyday, even a week later, felt like that first tug on my arm to pull me out of the crowd. That surprise as your heart jumps into your throat, that moment when your whole body tenses up in defense before you recognize the person and relax. 

Only I never relaxed. I couldn't afford to keep my guard down for one minute around him. 

Maybe I was crazy to keep it, but looking at all the names I could still remember the cast party, all of us giddy with that last reserves of adrenaline that only comes after the last show, when you're overtired, overspent, and completely, unequivocally, deliriously happy. 

But that day could have been nothing, it might have been nothing more than a well wish until…

There it was.

The card that had started everything. 

'From you know who…'

To think, my life might be completely different if it hadn't been for those four words, those three insignificant ellipses. 

What if I hadn't gotten the card?

What if he hadn't sent it?

What if I hadn't run into him in the hall just after?

What if I'd gone to meet Evan?

What if, what if, what if?

My fingers hovered over the edge, but even now, even after everything, I couldn't bare to rip it up. It was the rational thing to do, the obvious solution, but I couldn't do it. 

With a sigh I tossed it back in, rummaging through a year’s worth of notes and messages and cards, not all from Michael, but if they weren’t from him they were about him. 

Dozens of folded up scraps of paper, notes passed back and forth during class between Mandy and I, inside jokes and private nicknames so only we would know who was being talked about. 

Just underneath a pile of them was the ticket stub from Letters to Juliet.

We'd had so much fun that night.

Everything had been perfect, but of course that should have been my first sign. 

Nothing that perfect could be real.

I'd never have guessed he was using me, never have thought he was such a good actor, far better than I'd ever been. 

Even when the signs were clear, even when I knew it was over… but he wouldn't have stopped until he finished what he'd set out to do.

I couldn't have saved myself even if I'd known…

But that didn't make it any easier. 

It was all so much more real now that he was back again. The memories that had started to get hazy were sharp, as if focused by a camera, and they flashed behind my eyes, one snapshot after another with a single word labeling them all.

Naive.

My hand hesitated over the box before I reached in to pull out the one thing I really came here for, and of course, buried at the bottom like I knew it would be, a note from that day.

Another turning point, maybe even two. 

At least the other stuff I kept held good memories, whatever little value they were, but that... I had no idea why I still held on to it.

Maybe I just needed the proof.

Proof that The Incident had really happened. 

Because what hurt more than what he'd done, than what he'd been doing all along, was that I'd been so completely, utterly wrong about him.

It changes a person, when you realize you've misjudged someone so badly, when everything you thought you knew about them turns out to be a lie, nothing more than the image they let you believe. 

An illusion, a complete deception of the person they really are.

It changes you. 

I threw everything back in the box and shoved it into the furthest recesses of the bed, but even after closing my eyes the memories swirled around me, just waiting to explode.

Tick, tick, tick.

***

Something was off today. 

It was obvious in the shifty looks and general unease around the school as I put my books away after second period.

I didn’t know what it meant, but I could easily guess who had caused it.

Which most likely meant he'd done something to draw attention, since most of the tension had dissipated days ago. 

I closed my locker and jumped back with a start at seeing Evan standing there. 

“When did you get here?”

Without answering he crossed his arms and stood in front of me, blocking my view of the hall. 

"Is he bothering you Arya?" 

"You always bother me Evan,” I said with a smirk.

His expression changed from serious to surprised, and then sagged just slightly in relief. "You haven't heard?"

"No, but it must be bad if you're actually calling me by my name" I said suspiciously. 

"Very funny hobbit. I would never call you by your real name” He said mock seriously. “But on another and completely unrelated note, which has no relevance to my previous question, how do you feel about skipping the rest of the day?"

I gave him a skeptical look, which he responded to with an innocent smile.

"You're acting even stranger than usual Evs, should I be worried?"

"Well--" He looked down the hall from where he’d come and grimaced. 

I turned to look, but hadn't seen the cause of his frown before he'd thrown an arm around my shoulders and began forcibly leading me in the opposite direction.

"Evan seriously, what's going on?" 

He didn't answer, just kept pulling me along. 

He definitely did something. 

Damn him. 

I should have known he wouldn’t be content with calm waters for long. 

It just wasn’t the ‘Michael’ way. 

I had to take two steps for every one of Evan’s long strides, and with how fast he was walking I was nearly jogging to keep up.

We turned at the end of the hall and he finally slowed down. I took the moment to push his arm off and kept walking.

It was useless of course; within two steps he was caught up, smiling widely as usual, like the last few minutes hadn't happened. 

"Well as much as I enjoyed whatever that was supposed to be, you can go now,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.

"And deprive you of the pleasure of my company? That would just be selfish"

I was just about to retort when I saw a familiar head of messy brown hair.

"Wes!"

He looked up, startled, and a pile of books he'd been putting into his locker dropped to the floor, scattering around. 

Oops. 

Looking embarrassed he mumbled a 'hello' before bending down to collect everything. 

I picked up the papers on my way to him while Evan strolled along beside me, not even bothered to help.

I shot him an annoyed look, but he just grinned cheerfully in response and leaned against the lockers.

"How do I get rid of him?" I asked Wes, poking Evan in the stomach.

He looked amused and the boys exchanged a look before turning back to me. 

"I have no idea"

"But you're his best friend"

"I know, I've been trying to get rid of him since the third grade"

"Hey! I'm standing right here, and I’m offended. Here I am offering up my services to you with no appreciation" He said to me indignantly.

"What services exactly?"

"Suppose an armed assassin came barreling into the school right now and pulled out a gun? What would you do without me to protect you?"

"Right, because the chances of that happening are so high. Besides, you’d hardly be much use if guns were involved"

He shot me a scathing look. 

"Suppose someone forgot to turn off their Bunsen burner and the science hall erupted into flames? What would you do if I weren't here to carry you out?"

"Well if we're talking about a fire in the science wing, you're not a very good bodyguard considering we were further away before you dragged me here"

He waved a hand, "Technicalities"

“I’m confused, is this about Michael?” Wes interjected.

My eyes shot to him immediately. 

“I mean… ummm” 

Looking at him curiously I noticed he was staring over my shoulder.

I turned to glare accusingly at Evan and saw him making ‘shut up’ motions at Wes, which he cut off abruptly when I caught him. 

“I knew it, what did he do?”

Wes glanced over my shoulder again, and I knew Evan must have been telling him to keep quiet.

“You think she’s not going to find out man?”

“Find out what?”

They exchanged another look.

Frustrated, I tried to walk away, determined to find out for myself if they wouldn’t tell me, but Evan threw out an arm to stop me, and I couldn’t exactly get away.

“Fine, tell her”

I crossed my arms and looked expectantly at Wes.

“He’s here”

“Excuse me?”

“Michael’s here. At school.”

Time seemed to come to a standstill, and I hoped I’d wake up from whatever twisted dream I was having because this, this could not be happening. 

“…He showed up halfway through second period…” 

But of course he was here, of course. 

And it was not fair. This kind of thing was only supposed to happen in the books.

“…Got a visitors pass at the office and I guess someone saw and then everyone knew…”

I’d thought him showing up at the Café was bad, but this was so very worse. 

I felt disoriented, like I was back in grade 10 all over again, like nothing had changed.

Because he may have been back a week ago, but now he was really back, back at the school, back to where it had all started. 

“Is she okay?”

Suddenly it was like his locker was across the hall from mine again, and he was there, staring, smiling, smirking, waving, laughing, glaring.

“Ary?”

Now there, around the corner, laughing with his friends, the laugh I knew so well echoing down the halls, stopping in the middle of a conversation, lost in thought, looking at me.

“Hobbit?”

And again, coming out of a classroom, eyes locked with mine, a nod of the head, brushing his hand through his hair, a wink, a smile, a hand raised in a half wave before he turned away.

I blinked furiously to clear the images, the memories, each more potent than the last.

He couldn't be here. 

But he was. 

"ARYA"

I jolted around, flinched back, but I could breathe again. 

And then, from down the hall, timed like any climactic scene in any teenage movie, the specter himself.  

Seeing him in these halls again, like he’d never left, like nothing had changed when everything had…

It was the like the confusion of flipping to the very back of a book and reading the last page. You have no idea of the plot or characters, nothing but a few lines that don't mean anything. 

That's was it was like seeing him here, so out of context I