♫ Get it, say it, I'm your type
I know you been all this time
So get it right... to get around me ♪
(BANKS—Gimme)

The longer she tuned in to Ryan's voice, the more Coralie felt her spirit transport her back to her London days. With every message he sent, she envisioned their adventures in the Tube, their long walks to rehash details of arguments with significant others, their movie nights at his place, their secret sips of alcohol at hers.

"Seriously, I could listen to that voice all day," said Delilah, nursing her third glass of wine, kicking back in the plush carnelian chair near the TV. Her half-eaten experimental meal was growing cold on her plate, and she'd crossed her legs, staring at Coralie as if she were the afternoon's entertainment.

"Same." Coralie replayed Ryan's latest message.

"We were sort of circling around each other after you left, weren't we? I recall a few... conversations."

Coralie's eyes widened. "Fuck. He's acknowledging it!" She couldn't sit still, and bounced back and forth on the couch, sending a cushion flying off dangerously close to her glass of wine.

She pressed the record button, and spoke. "Yes, we were, actually. And we never really discussed it, did we?"

Delilah nodded as she took a sip, fist-pumping in encouragement. "Yes, it's time you guys talk about that. Shit, you said that was in two-thousand-and-nine, right?" She set her drink down and got up to put her iPhone on the speakers, turning on her favorite Thursday playlist. When BANKS' "Gimme" song came on, she squealed and flipped around, pointing at Coralie. "That is a sign! You know you love this!"

Though her legs yearned to stretch, begged her to get up and join in on Delilah's dancing, she had to stay seated. She'd be spending the evening running behind the counter to serve thirsty and annoying patrons, and needed her strength.

The phone pinged.

"You're correct, we didn't. You know... I have to admit, when you left for California..." He cleared his throat, and the sound was so sexy Coralie's stomach clenched. "It devastated me. I wanted to run to the airport and stop you, tell you that... I didn't want you to leave. Because I... well, I had feelings for you, Cora."

Despite her frantic—but always on rhythm—dancing, Delilah heard his words and fell in front of Cora, grasping her knees.

"Oh. My. God. Did he... did he just confess his love to you?"

"Holy shit." Coralie couldn't move. Her feet were planted to the carpet, her calves locked against the couch, her thighs stuck to the velvet fabric. She dropped the phone and covered her face with her hands. "I mean... wow. Wow."

Had he admitted it? The thing she'd fantasized over for ages, the emotions she'd hoped, deep down in her core, that he felt, that he'd hid, that he'd craved to tell her about? Had he divulged the very thing she'd been desperate to hear him divulge for over ten years?

Another ping jolted her out of her trance, and though every movement she made worsened her dizziness, she set her phone on her thighs and pressed the play button.

"But out of respect for Benjamin, I said nothing. And for Wendy, too, obviously. Plus, I didn't think you felt the same way."

Delilah jumped up and down like a kid throwing a tantrum over having ice-cream before dinner. Her long and luscious locks sent wisps of much needed air onto Coralie's cheeks.

"Is he serious?"

Coralie massaged her temples, but in truth it was her heart that needed a good rub, her brain that needed a pinch. "This... this is... huge."

"You have to tell him." Delilah plopped beside her and squeezed her shoulder. "You have to. How many years have you sat on this exact couch, stalking his Facebook, jealous of his perfect life, wondering if somehow, in some alternate dimension, you might have been with him? Come on."

She's right, but what does this mean? Why now?

Shaking her head and sensing a glob of saliva clogging the top of her throat, Coralie inhaled, exhaled, and pressed record.

"If you had stopped that plane, if you had told me... I might not have left, RyRy. I had feelings for you too, though I only realized them after I'd arrived here." She released the button to recompose herself; to erase the images of Ryan traipsing through Heathrow Airport, screaming her name, beseeching her not to leave. Demanding that she let her recently divorced mother move on her own, yelping that he loved her, he loved her, and she couldn't abandon him there.

She'd seen the scene so many times in her made-up scenarios; the ones she liked to imagine before bed, in the hopes she'd dream about them and that they'd somehow, someday, come true.

Was it happening? Was Ryan finally saying what she'd imagined in all her fantasies?

She calmed down—though her heart thumped up a storm in her chest—and resumed. "Ben and I were having issues... so once I moved here, when you and I started talking... I understood. But I didn't dare tell you, I thought... I thought you were only physically into me. And it was too late, wasn't it? Isn't it?"

As Coralie let go of her phone and jammed her elbows onto her thighs to hold up her chin, Delilah stroked her back.

"Good, good, let it all out. You can't keep that shit inside for so long." Her strawberry scent soothed Coralie—it was familiar and relaxing, grounding her in the present, stopping her from propelling twelve years in the past and regretting every single decision she'd ever made.

"It feels oddly relieving." Coralie reached for the wine she'd promised herself not to drink. "Jeez, I've been dreaming of this day for forever. And it's happening. It's happening? Ryan Bennett liked me in sixth form?"

"Sixth form—that's high school, yeah?" Delilah rose and shook out her silky curls, adjusting her short-shorts as she returned to her seat. "And he didn't like you, Cora, he loved you. That seems obvious. Heck, maybe he still does."

"Oh stop," Coralie scoffed, "he's married. He's just nostalgic."

Ping!

She held her breath as she listened to his smooth, confident tone. "Promise me that you'll never be afraid to reveal anything to me, ever again. Trust me like I've always trusted you. I've been crazy about you since the day I met you."

With a girly squeal, she melted into the sofa, clutching the phone between her breasts and squirming about like a fish out of water. "Dammit!" She groaned. "Why didn't he tell me? Why?"

The song switched to Maroon 5's "Feelings" and Delilah chortled. "Okay, for real, this playlist is responding to your aura, right now."

Ping!

Coralie's finger found the play button with her eyes closed. "Do you remember that? It was raining. You were soaking wet, waiting at the bus stop. My older brother was driving me home, and we passed you... and I ordered him to slam the brakes, so we could pick you up."

Coralie visualized the event as if it had occurred yesterday. She was in her school uniform, drenched to the bone, shivering under a thin umbrella that barely protected her, expecting a bus that should have arrived ten minutes before. The car rolled by, slowed down, stopped. She'd seen Ryan before, knew of him as one of the sporty guys Benjamin hung out with from time to time. But she hadn't anticipated that he'd recognized her, let alone that he'd offer her a ride home.

They were fifteen; awkward, fumbling teenagers who, regardless of their many differences, found an instant connection when she entered the car and started jamming to the music.

The song playing was "Best of you" by the Foo Fighters.

"You like this song?" Ryan's older brother, Nick, had asked, as he took off down the street, splashing into the deep puddles lining the sidewalk.

"Of course I do," Coralie had said, proceeding to belt out the entire chorus without missing a beat.

Ryan had stared at her as if seeing her for the first time in his life. Those big, beautiful blue-green eyes of his fixed on her in awe.

"Wow, you can sing." He'd smiled, and a slight blush grew on his light brown cheeks. "I had no idea. Benjamin never... he never mentioned that."

It was this moment that had triggered Coralie to become a singer, she knew. Ryan's compliment had stirred something within her, and prompted her to write songs, to stop being shy about her voice, to be clear on her intentions to spend her life in front of a microphone.

She didn't recall much of what had happened after that—though she'd been stunned to find out Benjamin talked about her to his friends—but that was where their friendship had blossomed. It was uncommon, invasive, almost insulting—that was what most of their friends said about their bond. That a guy and a girl couldn't, and shouldn't be so close without wanting to rip each other's clothes off. They both spent years defending said bond, swearing up and down they had no interest in each other.

Wow, we were fucking lying to ourselves, weren't we?

She held down the record button. "I do remember, though a lot of it is fuzzy. You were gallant, and I appreciated you saving me from the rain." She grinned. "You were always so sweet and so hilarious. Your jokes got me through my toughest days, especially when Ben and I were arguing."

Delilah had disappeared into the kitchen, and from the clanking and clinking sounds, it sounded like she was rinsing dishes and tidying up. She often lost interest if all attention wasn't on her, but for once, Coralie wouldn't complain—she didn't mind a bit of silence to sort through her thoughts.

This was insane. She'd shoved her affections for Ryan so far into her gut that she didn't think they'd ever resurface. It had been eleven years since their online conversations, and she hadn't thought of them in a few months. But now they flashed to and fro in her mind, and before she had a chance to stop herself, she fetched her laptop from her room.

"What are you doing? You have to be at the bar in half an hour, Cora," said Delilah, scrubbing the skillet.

Cora sneered. "Thanks, Mom, but I have to check something real quick."

As she settled on the couch, the machine powered on. She perused through all her pictures and files and documents, desperate to find those old MSN Messenger conversations they'd had. She had to read through them, read into them, see if there were any signs of their feelings back then.

Ping!

She absent-mindedly pressed play. "I've got all the details, and I'm happy to share them with you. Shit... I have so many questions, Cora. About your move over there, your routine, your love life... are you in a relationship?"

Chortling, she hurried to reply. "No, I've been single for a few months. Poor end to that relationship, so I'm not looking for anything." She almost said how about you but snorted—he'd been married for seven years, and she'd never be able to forget that.

Though she opened every insignificant document in her laptop and dug through folders she hadn't visited in a while, she didn't locate any of their two-thousand-and-nine discussions. But she did find some emails she had sent him, containing racy pictures he had requested.

"Oh dear," she gasped as she rushed to close the photo that had blasted up onto her screen—her holding a thin cloth over her boobs and biting her lips. "I did that? Damn, I was daring."

Not that she wasn't daring with other guys—she'd had similar photoshoots for a few of her hook-ups and had offered a few snapshots to her exes while she dated them. Despite not being comfortable in her own body and struggling to accept her gentle love-handles and subtle curves, she used to love snapping pictures of herself. The reactions she would get were always worth the hours spent getting into the right pose, making sure she had the right expression to entice and seduce.

Ryan had been a precursor for that. He'd flirted with her, asked for the pictures, and basked her in sweet accolades. He'd coaxed her into opening up more, showing more of herself—and she'd enjoyed it.

I should have figured him out, right? Understood that his words were more than superficial? Shit.

As she prepared to send him a message to inform him of the photos, he sent another recording.

"Hey, it's getting late here... eight hour delay, right? I have to get to bed, I have early meetings in the morning." He broke off, and she imagined his pout as he thought of what to say. "But listen... I'm video-calling you tomorrow, okay? I need to see you. Really need to see you. Are you free? Around this time, a little earlier, maybe?"

She held the phone so tight her hands became clammy and her arms ached.

Fridays were tough, but she started later at the bar, and figured she could push a few things around to make time for him. After so many years of silence, she had to make the effort.

"Oh, duh, I'm keeping you up, you poor thing. Go to bed. I'm definitely free tomorrow... and I need to see you, too. I look forward to it." It took all her might to not jump for joy and sound like a little girl as she concentrated on the screen, waiting for him to pop out of it, take her in his arms, and squeeze.

"What's going on?" Delilah reappeared, using a dish-rag to wipe her hands. She peered at her lime-green nails and snickered. "Shit, I have to get these re-done."

"He... he is video-calling me tomorrow," said Coralie, barely able to contain her excitement any longer. She skipped around the apartment, a grin so massive on her face it hurt, and made her jaw sore. "Calling me. Calling me!"

Delilah huffed and shoved her aside, wandering into her room. "Okay, wonderful, but we need to figure out what you're going to wear."

"Wait—" Coralie checked the time, "—I have to go, like, five minutes ago."

"Screw Rog." Delilah poked her head out from Coralie's room and waved her over. "Face-timing with Ryan? This is an emergency. Tell Roger it's my fault, but we need to work this out now, because I'll be too drunk later tonight and won't be able to help you."

Coralie fluttered into her walk-in closet and watched as Delilah grabbed a few tops, a few pairs of pants, and threw them onto her bed, debating which would show off Coralie's gorgeous neckline, which would make her ass pop if she were to stand up.

But Coralie wasn't there. She was lost in her memories of Ryan, reviewing all their laughter, their weekend strolls in the park, the parties where they dared each other to take shots that would get them sick the next day.

Ryan fucking Bennettwas calling her tomorrow, and she wasn't sure she'd sleep that night.

♥♥♥