Please, oh please, oh please let me remember him.
I thumb through years and years of faces in the album in my brain. This face is nowhere to be found.
For a glimmer of a second, I’m sad about that fact. Then my optimistic side springs forth. I’m probably wrong. He has to be in there somewhere.
Where were we? Oh, the outfit…
“I’m starting a new trend,” I joke.
I shift my body so that the wind blows my hair out of my eyes; I force myself to notice something other than his.
“I like your shoes,” I add.
“Uh, thanks,” he says awkwardly as he, too, looks down at his chocolate brown Converse All Stars. With not much left to say about shoes, he unzips and removes his tan hoodie.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s draping it around my shoulders and it’s like I’m protected from the world, not just the elements. The fleece lining is warm from his body and smells faintly of soap and fabric softener and just… guy. A perfect kind of guy.
He’s standing a little close to me for being a stranger, now in just his own T-shirt. It looks vintage; I’ve never heard of the band.
“Thanks,” I say again, as if it’s one of only ten words I know in the English language. “But aren’t you cold?”
He laughs, as though that’s the most ridiculous question in the world, and says, simply, “No.”
Can’t guys be cold?
“Okay. Well, thanks,” I say, for the millionth time in two seconds.
What is it with me and that word?
“It’s really no problem,” he says. “I figured you could use it. You’re turning blue,” he adds, nodding toward my legs. “I’m Luke, by the way.”
“London,” is all I can manage.
“Cool name,” he says with an easy smile. I can see a hint of a dimple in one of his cheeks. “Memorable,” he adds. Very funny, I think.
A shriek pulls me from my Luke-induced trance.
“London, WHAT are you wearing?” Jamie Connor screams so loudly that at least five people stop their conversations and turn toward us. “Please tell me you have pants on.”
I take back my wish for her to appear. She can go away now.
“Shhh, Jamie, people are staring,” I say, pulling her close to me to try to shut her up. I can smell the perfume that my best friend will wear forever.
“Sorry,” she says. “But you’re kind of a disaster,” she adds with a little laugh. I frown at her.
“Bad morning?” she asks, looping her arm through mine.
“Yep,” I answer quietly, still very aware that Luke is nearby. “I forgot my gym shirt. Again.”
Jamie gives me a sympathetic shoulder nudge before changing the subject. “I don’t even want to ask who lent you that one. Have you seen Anthony out here?” she asks as she searches the crowd. But then her interest in Anthony comes to a screeching halt when she spots Luke. My Luke.
“Hey,” she says to him.
“Hey,” he says back. He refuses to look right at Jamie; I might like it a little.
“Who are you?” she asks, head cocked like a curious cat.
“Luke Henry,” he says, finally focusing on her for a blink. “It’s my first day.” He looks away again and scans the crowd, as if he’s grown tired of being where he is. I notice that he keeps his head low, like he doesn’t want to attract attention.