Olivia

I hate this so much.

"Olivia!"

Betsy Coleman rushes to me from her spot by the door of our high school gym, her squat body wrapped in some hideous electric-blue fabric. Her dark hair is in a perm and I would swear she was still in high school if she hadn't removed her braces.

"Hi, Betsy." We air kiss and I wish the ground would swallow me whole.

"Why are you alone?" she asks immediately.

Her tone isn't accusing, but I can see the judgment behind her dull eyes, her surprise that the wonderful Olivia Hernandez showed up alone for her high school reunion.

I've been planning our ten-year reunion for months, excited to see my friends again, to reminisce on better times and just hang out, adulthood forgotten. Instead, my entire squad has bailed on me.

We were supposed to make a grand entrance together. Me, my best friends, and my former prom date.

But Jake and Mindy have sick kids. Beverly is off to Europe and couldn't be bothered to fly back for the reunion. Ludmila is working the night shift. Biff and Jude are not coming either for some shitty reason I can't even be bothered to remember.

With everyone making lame excuses, Jake was my last chance to salvage this mess. As long as the prom king and queen showed up together, it could work. But he'd called a mere two hours before we were to meet just to spew some bullshit about how his daughter had a fever. He even got pissy and hung up on me when I suggested that his wife could stay home with the kid. You know, the kid's mother.

The asshole stood me up and now I have to just walk in. I've fought for four years not to be the "just walk in" kid.

And yet, here I am, just walking in.

Betsy Coleman keeps glancing at me, blinking too much. I have no idea what she's waiting for.

"Anything you want help with?" I ask.

She blinks again. "Oh, you just messed up my sitting plan."

It's so hard not to flip her stupid table over. Instead, I offer her a polite smile.

"I'm sure you can handle it." Even if at the moment she does nothing but stare.

"Oh, right. Of course!" Finally, she picks up a chart and stares at that instead. "Just give me a moment." She turns her back on me and wanders into the crowd.

I allow myself a deep sigh and look around. The decor is too simple but tasteful enough. Not what I would have put together if I hadn't been forced off the organization committee. But apparently there is such a thing as being too excited about something.

Now my excitement has fizzled. For one wild moment, I wonder if I should have tried calling my childhood best friend, Felix, again. But it would have been wrong to ask him to go together just because all my other options bailed on me. He doesn't deserve that.

He was no longer in my circle when we graduated, and I didn't want things to be awkward by trying to include him in a group he doesn't belong to, but now I realize it could have worked. We could have spent the night talking about our childhood, the latest Marvel movies, and his favorite video game.

But I didn't call, so I'm alone. And I hate it.

Someone joins me in front of the welcome table. I glance up and my heart jumps into my throat.

I have no idea who he is, but the guy is h-o-t.

He's wearing a well-fitted black suit, white shirt and bowtie. His shoulders are broad and he looks well chiseled, his dark red hair falling over his forehead with messy grace. The line of his jaw is to die for, as is the slight quirk of his lips. They're just the right amount of full for a man.

"Hello," he says, his voice rich and deep.

"Hi." My voice comes out like a squeak, and I almost cringe.

What the hell? I'm usually so good with men. Why the hell am I squeaking like a mouse? But this one must be the hottest guy I've ever been this close to. His posture is so confident and I can tell that his outfit is designer.

Who is he and what the hell is he doing in this shoddy high school gym?

"Some welcome committee, huh?" he says.

I let out a light laugh. "Oh, I hear there's some seating chart emergency going on."

"Oh, yes." He nods as if taking the matter very seriously, but there's definite amusement in his eyes.

They're a dark green and I frown slightly. The color looks very familiar. Was I supposed to know him? Why don't I?

"Something wrong?"

"No, of course not. Are we not here to have fun?" I give him a dazzling smile.

"But of course." He smiles back and it sends my stomach plummeting to my knees.

By God, he's gorgeous. How could I forget someone like him? My stomach plummets again, but this time it's with fear. What if he's someone's date and not one of our actual former classmates? That would explain everything.

"You look fabulous," he says. The way he looks at me screams that he's single and interested. Either that, or he's an asshole, ditching his family for one hot piece of ass.

I don't mind either way. Being complimented by such a gorgeous man is a confidence boost. A grin slides across my face and I twirl in place to give him a better look of my dress. I tried about a hundred before I chose this floor-length, olive-green, silk masterpiece. It has a plunging neckline, a bare back and a slit to the side, showing off my curves. Because yes, after so many years, I still look amazing and I want that to show.

No baby fat from pregnancies, no rounded back from office work, no crow's feet from staring at a screen for too long. I'm still me.

"Thank you! I really loved the color."

"It does look magnificent on you." The heat in his gaze is so intense I want to shudder. Those eyes are so mysterious. "But then again..." He leans in closer. "I think anything would look good on you."

I can feel myself blushing and I look away. "Oh, please, stop. Or better yet, don't."

This draws a laugh out of him, but instead of paying me further compliments, he leans over Betsy's mess of papers, reading them upside down. "I think I know my table. I hope to see more of you this evening." He winks at me and heads out into the crowd.

I stare after him and swallow heavily. Yes, I hope to see more of him, too. That wink almost sent me hyperventilating. What's wrong with me? I'm usually the one men drool over, not the other way around.

It must be the dry spell. How long has it been since I last had sex? A few months? I know it's been six months, but I try my best not to think about it, especially while observing such a fine specimen.

I watch him as he runs into Betsy, exchanging a few words with her, and then they head further into the crowd and I lose sight of him.

Damn Betsy Coleman. It's like she's keeping me waiting on purpose. A part of me doesn't blame her. I'm already planning on talking to him later. After my entourage bailed, I wasn't expecting anything interesting to happen tonight.

Well, this gorgeous man just changed that.

Finally, Betsy makes her way back to me, a goofy grin on her face. "Sorry about that, Olivia," she says, sitting back at her table. "But I managed to sort it out." She begins scribbling on her notepad.

I'm left with awkward silence and I hate it.

"This looks nice," I offer, indicating the room at large.

Betsy snorts and it makes my skin crawl as I'm reminded of snot. So gross. "They could've done much better. You could've done much better." She gives me a once-over as if she needs to balance out the compliment with something bitchy. "I'm sorry your friends couldn't make it."

My stomach drops. I've almost forgotten all about that after flirting with that hot guy, but I needed my friends so that we could reminisce. Without them, I'll have to make small talk with almost strangers, and I definitely don't want to be sucked into endless conversations about colleges, jobs and families. Adult stuff should be left outside the high school premises.

But now, I have the horrid feeling that it might be all anyone will talk about. Like hyenas, they will corner me and start asking questions. What's your major? Do you have a career? A husband? Kids? A fancy car?

All the lame milestones of adult life. I know they don't matter, but that doesn't mean I won't have to explain why I haven't graduated yet, why I'm not even dating at the moment, or why my latest jobs are teaching yoga, walking dogs, and babysitting.

I offer Betsy a soft smile and a wise answer. "You know how life is."

"Yeah, true. It's great to see you anyway." She's all business as she rings a bell, much like the ones you'd see in hotel lobbies.

I frown in confusion, but am quickly illuminated once another woman shows up.

"Jenna, please take Olivia to her new table."

The blonde narrows her eyes at me and grins. I try to grin back, but I'm sure it looks like I have lockjaw.

Jenna Darcy. I haven't seen her since we finished school, and she's dyed her mousy hair a platinum blonde. She also lost some weight, though she's still stocky. She used to play sports a lot and apparently still works out.

"Hello, Olivia," she says in her deep voice. "Still alive and kicking, I see."

Why does it have to be her leading me to my table? This would've been so much easier if Jake were here. But I have to roll with the punches, so I follow when she waves her hand to indicate that I do so.

"We had a lot of trouble rearranging the tables after yours bailed," Jenna says, making her way between tables already half-filled with people I'm a lot more fond of.

"Well, you know how life is." This is starting to become my go-to phrase for warding off unwanted conversation.

"Still hard to place you." Jenna turns midstep, her eyes narrowed. She looks almost predatory. "Where's your puppy friend? What was his name again?"

How can she be so rude? "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know, that nerd who always followed you around. With the red frizzy hair."

I know she's talking about Felix so I don't bother with an answer because if she can be rude, then so can I. It's none of her business where my former best friend is or what he's doing.

She doesn't take my silence for the dismissal it is, so she continues the interrogation. "What are you up to these days?"

"Oh, you know, this and that."

Jenna snorts. The sound is a lot more bearable than Betsy's. "You're too old for this and that, Olivia."

My blood is boiling and I clench my fists as subtly as possible. I was expecting this narrow-minded approach, so it's time to bring out the big guns. "If you must know, I'm an investigative journalist." I've settled on this particular career as it is both mysterious and fabulous.

"Are you now?" The smile on her face screams that she doesn't believe me.

"Yes. I graduated from Brown." A place no one in Southern California ever set foot in.

"Oh, how impressive. An Ivy League school. And where do you work?"

Shit. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I don't even know what the newspapers around here are called because I never bothered reading one.

"I can't disclose that."

"Of course." Jenna sounds very unconvinced and starts walking again toward the very back of the room.

Of course she would place me there, the cow, out of sight so I don't grab the attention of everyone around. Well, the joke's on her. Everyone can see me walking and they're all turning their heads. Because unlike her, I still look like myself and I'm gorgeous. I wave to a few people I know.

"Sorry, this is the only table we could find for you on such short notice. With--" Jenna's words die on her tongue, and once I look past her beefy shoulder, I can see why.

The table is in the shadow, at the very back of the room, and empty, except for one lone man. A man I happen to know because I flirted with him just a few minutes ago. Maybe my luck has finally turned.

He's now sitting with one ankle propped over his knee, reading an actual book.

"Well, holy shit," Jenna breathes.

I can't blame her. The guy is insanely hot, from his flawless outfit to the line of his jaw and the slight rugged edge to him.

Jenna's words have him raising his gaze from the book and I'm left staring into those dark green eyes again.

"Hello again, Olivia," he says.

Um, what? He actually knows my name?

"Cringey Lixy?"

Jenna's voice breaks through my reverie and I almost have a heart attack. I haven't heard that disgusting nickname in ten years, but I can still remember who it was directed at by people like her.

No! This can't be. The gorgeous man I flirted with can't be my nerdy childhood best friend.

"Felix?"