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Yet, the resurgence of old feelings for Natalie, feelings I thought I'd long since buried under layers of life and experience, was not something I was prepared for. It's honestly a miracle that I didn't fall flat on my face when she showed up at the diner last night, appearing out of thin air like a rain-soaked siren. I guess I have my military training to thank for that—keeping cool under pressure, even when the plan goes to shit.
It's been nearly a decade since we last saw each other, just teenagers with the world stretched out before us. The memory of our youthful dreams clashes with the reality of her here, now, a successful professional in her own right. The years have been kind to her, only adding to her beauty and she’s developed an air of confidence that's impossible to ignore.
She's certainly come into her own, but underneath it all, she's still the same fiery Nat that knocked me off my feet all those years ago.
I shake my head, willing myself to forget about Natalie. Her brother, Jack, would never forgive me if he knew I was having these thoughts about her. Especially after everything that went down.
"Julian?" The voice jolts me out of my reverie, pulling me sharply back to the present and the task at hand.
I turn to face the speaker, finding myself looking into the eager eyes of Gabriel King, my new subcontractor. His arrival marks the beginning of the work ahead, a reminder of the responsibilities resting on my shoulders.
And thank God, because at least for a minute, I'll have something else to think about other than if Natalie's lips still taste the way they used to.
But even as I extend my hand in greeting, part of my mind remains with Natalie, tangled in the ‘what-ifs’ of a past that suddenly feels all too relevant.
Gabriel extends his hand, his grip firm, enthusiasm radiating from him like an engine running on overdrive. He reminds me of myself when I was younger; eager to serve, totally unsuspecting of what life was about to throw in my lap. “Ready to get started, sir," he declares, a bit too seriously.
"Great to hear, Gabriel,” I say, trying to both match his enthusiasm and maintain the professional distance I've learned is necessary in this business. “We've got a lot to cover, and this project isn't going to be an easy one.”
I lay out the plan for the Langford Art Building, Gabriel nodding along as if trying to commit my every word to memory. Quickly, I catch him up to where we are, pointing to the scaffolding that's already climbing up the sides like ivy.
"The structure is sound, but we'll need to tread carefully with the renovations. This is a historic building, after all. If you have any questions, come to me, all right?"
Gabriel nods again, his eyes scanning the blueprint before us. "Got it, boss. We'll take good care of her."
Satisfied, or as content as I can be, I leave Gabriel to get acquainted with the rest of the crew.
Catching a glimpse of Natalie outside, I can't help but pause.
The sun catches her just right, illuminating her tanned skin and transforming her hair into golden fire. How fitting, I think with a chuckle.
She's shed her blazer, the summer heat proving too much, and the top buttons of her shirt are undone, revealing just a hint of collarbone. It's an innocuous enough sight, but it sends a jolt of lightning through me, stark and unexpected. I clench my jaw, reminding myself of the professional environment.
She's engrossed in a phone call, her expression a mix of concentration and frustration: eyebrows knit together, her upper lip pulled back slightly like a cat baring its teeth. It's a look I remember well, one that used to be directed at me during our teenage debates and disagreements.
It brings a smile to my face now just as it did then, remembering how annoyed she would be that I found her outbursts endearing. “It's not fair,” she would always argue. And I would always think, “entirely fair,” considering the hold she had on me.
The nostalgia is cut short when she suddenly looks up, catching my gaze. There's a flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or disgust—before she hastily moves inside, snatching her blazer from a nearby table on the way.
That final look hits me like a brick to the ribs. We used to be so close, sharing everything without a second thought. Now, the harsh reality is we're nothing more than strangers, bound only by shared memories and a renovation project.
I find myself wondering what happened to her in the years we were apart, what made her into this guarded, self-isolating person. Guilt writhes inside me as I consider the very real possibility that I might have had something to do with that.
The day wears on, the rhythm of work a familiar comfort, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Natalie. Finally, I get my chance to break through the awkwardness between us when I spot her in the parking lot during my lunch break. She's rummaging through the back of her van, frustration etched in her every move.
I approach casually, trying to seem nonchalant. "Need a hand?" I ask, leaning against the side of the van.
She looks up, startled, then her expression softens slightly. "No thanks, I've got it," she replies, a polite smile not quite reaching her eyes.
I linger, not ready to end the conversation, watching as Natalie pulls out a dust mask and gloves from the van. I’m surprised when she pulls out a camera, too.
"Very high tech," I comment, nodding towards the oversized equipment in her hands.
She chuckles, a sound that momentarily bridges the gap between us. "I want to take before and after images of the place. Make sure I have everything properly documented."
I notice her gaze flicker momentarily to my arms, and I can't suppress the smug feeling that rises within me. I've spent enough time in the gym to know the effect it can have, and I'm deviously thrilled it seems to have ruffled Natalie. But I push down the satisfaction, reminding myself that now's not the time to tease her.
I move away from the topic, unable to stop myself from asking the question that's been at the forefront of my mind since she expertly dodged it last night.
