Lily

Two Years Later – New York City

I did not see Rhys again after that night two years ago. I’d tried messaging him through Facebook a few times, but never heard back. I was devastated, of course, but at the same time, it wasn’t like we were dating. We’d traded orgasms in the woods, I reasoned. That was it.

I tried to tell myself it was partly my fault. I’d told Rhys we couldn’t be together, so when it came time for him to leave, he left. I was certain he wasn’t ruminating over it like I was. Hell, I probably dodged a bullet, I eventually decided.

Once I’d moved past the ice-cream phase, I focused my energy on school. Graduation came soon after, and then I threw myself into my job search. At least I had control of that part of my life.

Eventually, I’d created a life that was free of Rhys Conner, once and for all. It wasn’t easy, but I became proud of myself for moving on. So proud that I would do almost anything to maintain the distance I’d created.

So when other people from my high school started tagging him online, I got rid of Facebook.

When I first heard his name on television, I changed the channel.

But despite my efforts, I knew Rhys had done well for himself. I surmised that he must have abandoned school after the incident with Lance because Rhys ended up becoming a working artist.

Successful. Respected.

He’d allowed himself to become what he was destined to be.

I wasn’t going to be that girl who dragged him back to what he’d worked so hard to escape.

I closed my laptop and lined up the pens on my desk. Almost everyone had emptied out for Thanksgiving week, and I was one of only three left out of an office of thirty. Most were headed to places like Ohio and Nebraska, to eat turkey, relax, and watch football with loved ones.

Me, however, I was staying put. Not long after the blowup with Rhys and Mom’s subsequent breakup with Lance, she’d sold the cabin and so ended our holiday trips.

Still, I wasn’t bummed. New York was my new home base, and it took on a new kind of magic during the holidays -  I was looking forward to absorbing every bit I could. The city seemed to come alive with a special kind of sparkle during the season, and by staying in town, I could do whatever I wanted. Wander through Central Park with a pumpkin spice latte. Battle the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade crowds to scope out the store windows on Fifth Avenue. It would be fun.

No, scratch that. It would be great.

I’d moved to NYC having gotten a graphic design position not too long after graduating from Henning. I worked for an avant-garde arts and culture magazine called Butterknife, thanks to a referral from my mom’s brother who knew the editor. Honestly, I don’t think I would have gotten the job otherwise - the magazine was way cooler than I was. But somehow I’d fooled them and managed to work my way up from an assistant to the senior layout designer. It was a pretty sweet gig.

The light outside started to wane as I set my out-of-office message and took my plant to the break room to give it one last drink before I left for the long weekend.

As I came back, I noticed a figure standing near the reception area. His back was to me as he checked out the large Shepard Fairey painting that dominated the space. The receptionist had left yesterday, so I headed toward him.

“Hey there, can I help you?” I asked carefully. After all, the day before Thanksgiving was a strange time for an appointment.

His throat cleared, and my brain recognized the tone a split second before he turned around.

Rhys.

His eyes were the first to register me, dilating and darkening with surprise. Then his head tilted, and the corners of his mouth ticked up in amusement.

Rhys Conner, ever in control.

In control of himself, but also in control of me. With that one look, I felt my heart crash through the floor.

He was here. In New York. In my office.

I felt paralyzed. Not because he was famous or successful, but because even now, I felt drawn to him. Connected. He held the room like it was just the two of us. His focus felt singular. Special. His confidence and the primal nature of the way he looked at me still sent shivers down my spine.

He looked good. Really good. Gone were any traces of the boy who’d teased and tortured me. His face had a scruff to it, which was a good look for him. He wore black leather work boots, dark jeans, and a navy snorkel jacket.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, sounding more rude than I meant to.

Rhys tucked his hands into his pockets and glanced behind me. “I’m supposed to meet with Dan.”

Dan? Dan, like, editor Dan?

“Is he expecting you?” I propped my plant against my hip.

Rhys rolled his tongue around inside his mouth in a way that made his cheekbones emphasize and his lips pucker. Then he locked eyes with me and nodded.

I blushed from my scalp to my toes as I remembered what it felt like to have that tongue and those lips on me. I’d dated a little here and there since moving to the city, but no one - no one - had ever kissed me like Rhys Conner.

I felt my insides claw inside of me. It was as if my body remembered him on a cellular level.

Seeing him felt like the first drop of whiskey after years of sobriety.

Dangerous. Terrifying.

Exciting.

“Rhys. Hey, man, I thought I heard someone out here!” Dan’s voice came booming behind me. “Sorry, I forgot to mention our receptionist is out for the holiday, but I see Lily here was able to greet you.”

Rhys and Dan shook hands, but Rhys kept his gaze on me.

“Lily,” Dan continued. “This is Rhys Conner. He’s going to be our cover story for April. That is, if I can convince him. For some reason, he rejected me when we saw each other at the Andrea Rosen opening last month. But I think he’s just playing hard to get, don’t you?”

I blinked back to earth at the question. “What, sorry?”

“You okay?”

“Sorry, yeah. I just spaced out for a sex. I mean, sec!” I blushed fiercely and then turned back to Rhys. “You’re going to be in the magazine?”

Dan turned back to him, and Rhys shrugged.

Dan continued for him. “I’m gonna say yes until this guy actually gives me a hard no. We’ve been trying to get him to agree to an article for months now, but ever since Rhys was named one of the top ten artists to watch by ArtWeek. But lately his shows have been selling out within minutes, and now he’s very hard to get in touch with.”

Rhys had an expression on his face I’d never seen before. It took me a second to realize he actually looked slightly embarrassed.

Rhys Conner, embarrassed? Wow. This was new.

“Well,” Dan said when I didn’t respond. “Shall we go back to my office, man?”

Rhys nodded.

When he passed within a foot of me on the way to Dan’s office, it was all I could do not to reach out and touch him as my skin flamed.

I didn’t know what to do next. I wanted to stay, but to what end? Rhys and I had ended a long time ago. I was shocked at how I was reacting. It was like no time had passed.

I sat at my desk for at least ten minutes, weighing the possibilities in my mind, and finally decided to leave. This was overwhelming, seeing him after so many years of trying to forget. Trying to forget how he’d left that night.

I’d never been one for fate.  

I powered down my computer, grabbed my purse and coat, and left.