Page 3 of Just Past Two

They didn’t go dancing often enough. They’d gone a lot in the beginning of their relationship, when they were younger and searching for any signs of nightlife in and around small-town Mapleton. Dancing to house music, ballroom, salsa, they’d gone wherever they could find a steady beat and a lively crowd. But life became ever busier, and dancing—like many things—faded over time. His body pressed against hers conjured up all kinds of memories from their younger years.

“So why am I really dancing with you?” he asked. “I thought you liked those guys.”

She smiled. Sam was clearly not fooled. “I did. I do.” Back at the table, Phil and James were already in conversation with someone else. “I just wanted some space.”

Sam turned and dipped her easily, guiding her through a samba that somehow fit perfectly to this pop ballad. “You worried I’m going to keep finding out more about this bare-ass running career of yours?”

Abby tipped her head forward onto Sam’s chest and started laughing, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I can’t believe that came up. I swear to God, I haven’t done that lately.”

Sam squeezed her hand, prompting her to look up again. “We all change. I think that’s pretty normal.” His voice, low and smooth, soothed whatever nerves had cropped up during the conversation. The man didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. He was a man of convictions and principles, but he could identify guile in anyone else, and especially in her. “Is this kind of stuff the reason you never talk much about college?”

“You know the important things. You know I dated a lot, that I wasn’t ready to settle down, and that all changed when I met you.” Everything he needed to know, really, and he’d never pried.

“Babe, you know I don’t care what you got up to in college.” He twirled her around once, surprising her into more laughter, and pulled her back to him again. “I love the person you are now. It doesn’t matter who you were back then.”

“Easy for you to say. You were a Boy Scout.”

Sam’s expression turned serious, but the kind of serious that was comical in its intensity. He even stopped dancing, holding her at arm’s length. “Abby Wood Burke, I need to know this right now. Back in college, did you kill a man?”

Abby burst out laughing, heart suddenly full. He could always make her laugh. “I did. That’s what I’ve been keeping from you.”

“I knew it.” He shook his head in disappointment. “You going to prison is really going to put a damper on this New Year’s.” He dropped a chaste kiss on her lips before sweeping her into the dance again. This was textbook for Sam; he wasn’t a PDA kind of guy, and for all his jokes, he was pretty serious underneath. She loved that about him. She’d been drawn to his seriousness from the very beginning. Even when they were first dating, he’d been so respectful of her, never wanting to push her boundaries, until she’d practically had to drag him to bed. She’d landed herself one of the good ones. It had all felt so tentative back then, a relationship with someone she could see a future with, back when she was still trying to muddle her way into adulthood.

Over Sam’s shoulder, the crowd parted, and another familiar face came into view. She froze, body going suddenly motionless like she couldn’t convince it to move. She must have gone pale, because Sam’s response was all concern. “What? Are you okay?”

Across the dance floor, a familiar figure strolled out of the crowd. His name and a score of memories both came flooding back all at once. Zachary Levine, tall and bronze, always leaving conversations half finished because of swim team practice or a lifeguarding gig. Zach, who she’d never fucked but had wanted to, Zach of so many near misses, privy to all her wildest days.

He looked just as good as he had back in college. He was still tall and golden brown, with light hair that probably still lightened up in the summer. He still had that swimmer’s long, lean body with an impossibly broad smile, and wild curly hair that spoke to his biracial ethnicity. He even had freckles like her, darker constellations scattered across his skin. He made eye contact with her across the crowded dance floor and started coming their way.

Abby looked to Sam, like he might somehow be able to help, which was ridiculous. “It’s Zach,” she said, like that would explain anything at all.

His eyebrows went up even more. “Okay? You know I don’t know who the hell any of these people are.”

“Zachary Levine. He was on my floor back in freshman and sophomore year. He dated my roommate for a while, and then he…” She trailed off as he closed the distance, all warm smiles that brought up the same giddy nervousness of her youth.

“Abby Wood!”

Abby stepped out of Sam’s embrace, and Zach swept her up into a hug, already laughing, his body so warm against hers. He still smelled the same, kind of, and she didn’t even know she’d remember his scent until she was breathing it in. Zach held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “Holy shit, Abby, you look amazing. It can’t have been ten years. You look as young as when we graduated.”

“It’s been ten years.” She gestured to her husband, fumbling her words. “This is Zach. Sam. This is Sam, my husband.” She moved her arm up and down, like a high-speed Vanna White showing off the latest prize puzzle. “Sam, this is Zachary Levine. We were friends back in college.”

Zach shook Sam’s hand, warm and cordial. “You lucky bastard. I didn’t think anyone could get Abby to settle down.”

“Me?” Like hell she was going to take that slander. “You dated pretty much the whole floor!” She turned to Sam. “Listen. I may have had my own wild days in college, but Zach puts them to shame.”

“Oh really?” Sam grinned, probably happy he was going to get these wild tales after all. “Come on, Zach, maybe you can tell me some stories. Abby keeps dragging me away from everyone who might be able to dish the dirt.”

Zach’s laugh, loud and free like it always had been, took her right back to the crush she’d nursed for him for years. They were always passing like ships in the night, Zach moving from relationship to relationship, never single at the same time she was. “Let’s grab a table and a drink.”

Zach left for the bar, and Abby grabbed Sam’s arm. “Come on. Go easy on me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m not gonna pump him for information.” Sam held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Fine. One drink.” She pulled him toward the bar after Zach. “And if I ask you to dance again, we go.”

…

Abby was pretty jumpy tonight. It was just a reunion, and she’d been looking forward to going, or so Sam had thought. But ever since they’d gotten here, she’d vacillated between loud and shy, shifting from the composed, put-together, brilliant woman he loved, to some kind of unrecognizable version of herself, in turns raucous and uncertain, trying out different emotions like shoes.