The conversation got pretty intense pretty fast.

Soon, we were confessing our feelings for each other.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s a little strange… We never spent much time together.”

“But we’ve both been thinking about each other all these years,” she says, finishing my thought for me.

I stop walking, and she stops too.

Her body is close to me. I can feel her presence hear me. I can hear her breathing. Her chest is rising and falling.

There’s a hint of expectation in the air. There’s something magnetic pulling us together. I feel the need to have her again, to possess her, to connect our bodies physically. This emotional link between us is about to boil over. And the physical act is the only thing that will satisfy the urge, the craving.

She’s like a drug to me. I need her and I need more of her.

“This is crazy, right?” she says, as she looks up at me with her eyes wide and innocent looking.

She’s changed so much, but she’s still the same woman I made love to that summer night in the yard.

I pull her against me, my hands on her hips gripping her tightly. I smash my mouth against hers and feel her wet warmth against my lips. She kisses me back and our tongues swirl like a whirlwind.

I don’t care who sees us or where we are. But no one’s around. Just the trees and the sun and the grass.

“Yeah,” I growl at her, when the embrace ends, fading away. “This is crazy. But come back to my hotel with me. I need you like I’ve never needed you before.”

She looks at me. She’s considering it all, and in a more mature way than before. She’s an adult now, with real responsibilities. Sleeping with a man now has more potential repercussions than in her younger years.

“There’s something you should know,” she says.

“I already know,” I say.

There’s a look of complete surprise on her face. “You do?” She sounds scared, terrified even. “You talked to…?”

“Pat, yeah,” I say. “I didn’t know you knew him? He told me you had a kid now, a son, right?”

“Oh,” she says, giving me a strange look that I can’t quite decipher. “Yeah, I have a son, James… That’s what I was going to say. I’m supposed to pick him up at daycare.”

I nod my head in understanding. “Being a single mother must be tough.”

“Pat told you that too?”

“Yeah,” I say, not wanting to ask why the dad’s no longer in the picture.

But what kind of a man abandons a woman, any woman, much less this gorgeous creature in front of me? If I met him, I’d let my fists do the talking for me.

I want to kiss her again. I want to devour her with my mouth. I want to kiss her whole body and I want to touch again her cloistered dark space between her legs. I want my cock to nestle up against it, pressing ever so slightly as she squeezes her legs closed around me until she finally lets me into her sweet tightness. I want her so much, but I need to wait. I have to wait, and it’s killing me.

“Hey,” I say. “You’ve got to go pick him up, that’s fine. Let’s get together tonight, though? Come by my hotel at 11pm?”

“There’s no way to misinterpret that message,” says Hana, laughing.

“Oh,” I say, making a joke out of it. “Sorry, I just meant you could come by at 11pm to get your book signed. That is what you’re after, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” says Hana, flashing me a smile.

There’s a pause.

She has to leave, but neither of us want to part. We’ve reconnected after so many years and we’ve discussed a fraction of our feelings for each other. But the rest goes unspoken. It’s something that doesn’t even need to be said. That’s how powerful it is.

“Hey,” I say. “Why don’t I come with you to pick him up? We can hang out or something. I don’t have anything else going on… I’ll take you two out for pizza or whatever he likes.”

She doesn’t say anything. It looks like she’s about to say something but stops herself.

“You sure?” she says. “You don’t have to. I know not every guy wants to hang around with little kids.”

“No, no,” I say. “I’d love to. I love kids.”

The truth is that while I do enjoy the company of children, especially the silly things they say, I’ve never felt really at ease with them in the same way I feel with adults. They seem to be working on a whole different level, which makes sense, since they’re kids.

“Oh,” she says, beaming at me. “That’s great. Sure, I know James would love to meet you.”

“Why’s that?”

“He loves military stuff and heroes and all that. He’ll just love you. Plus he loves pizza.”

“Perfect,” I say.

“I’ll drive,” she says. “And then maybe afterwards, I can drop James off at my parents’ house for the night or something.”

I follow Hana back to her car, a beat up old Camry, and we start driving to James’s nursery school, which is at the end of a huge tree lined road at the top of a hill.

“Nice place,” I say.

There’s the sound of kids shouting out in the playground, laughing and playing. Their voices are nothing but pure joy.

But I hear something else in it. The shouts bring flashbacks from war, from the missions. My head is suddenly filled with cries of pain, echoes of screams from years ago… comrades fallen on missions, their legs blown completely off from land mines…

“Are you OK?” says Hana, looking at me with a worried expression.

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah, sorry… I was just thinking about something else.”

“You had one of those faraway looks on your face.”

“It’s nothing,” I say.

I wait outside while Hana heads inside to pick up James. For some reason that I can’t put together, I feel nervous about meeting him.

After all, they always say that kids can be perceptive, extremely perceptive. Maybe he’ll know something that I’ve been successful at hiding to everyone else. All the adults see me as the returned warrior hero. They don’t know about my nightmares, my fears, my memories. Can kids see right through that?

Doubtful, I remind myself. It’s doubtful anyone would realize anything like that. Kids are easy, I remind myself. They’re fun and full of life. It’s ridiculous to be scared of one, or to be nervous about meeting them.

I’ve been through wars, stared death in the face, and I’m scared of a little kid?

I take a deep breath. This is more than ridiculous.

Hana comes back holding a four year old boy by the hand.

My first thought is that this is one cool kid. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something familiar in his face, in his stance, in the way he walks. I guess it’s just that he reminds me a little of Hana.

“Hey there, James,” I say, holding out my hand for him to shake.

I tower over him, but he doesn’t look frightened. He looks at me with a sense of curiosity.

“You’re my mom’s friend?” he says.

He shakes my hand. His hand is tiny in mine.

“Yup,” I say. “Old friends from high school.”

“Noah offered to take us out to pizza,” says Hana. “Doesn’t that sound fun, James?”

“Pizza? Yeah. Can we go to Dean’s?”

“Dean’s pizza?” I say. “Is that still open?”

Hana nods. “It’s James’s favorite place.”

“Great,” I say. “Let’s see what old Dean is up to. I haven’t been there in years, but we used to go there all the time after football practice.”

Dean is a notoriously grumpy man who moves around like he’s shouldering hundreds of pounds of weight. He was constantly complaining about his feet and back, even though he wasn’t that old.

Hana drives us over there, and James ends up talking a lot about the toys he was playing with at daycare, and some of his friends.

“Did you have any more problems with Tommy?” says Hana.

“Tommy?” I say. “What’s going on with Tommy, James?”

James doesn’t say anything.

“Tommy’s been giving James a hard time,” says Hana. “He runs his truck over him a lot.”

I nod my head understandingly. “You know, James,” I say. “Something like that used to happen to me when I was a kid.”

“Really?” says James, wide eyed. And I know why he’s surprised. To him, I’m this towering, muscular adult man, a warrior, and I don’t look like I’ve ever had anyone bully me. But that’s not true.

“Yeah,” I say. “When I was a kid, there was this kid at school… I forget his name now. Maybe it was Bob, but I can’t remember now. It was so long ago. But he used to come up to me and take my apple every day at school. This was in kindergarten. Finally, I’d had enough, and I told him that the next time he took my apple from me, I’d punch him in the stomach.”

“Really?” says James, going wide eyed.

“Now,” says Hana. “We don’t want to encourage violence, right, Noah?”

“Of course not,” I say. “I’m not suggesting you punch him, James. But what I’m saying is that sometimes bullies just need to see that you’re going to stick up for yourself. In my case, telling him off was all it took.”

James doesn’t say anything, but I can see that he’s thinking it over.

This is why it’s a shame he doesn’t have a father figure. Moms tend to push non-violence and everything like that, which is great. But kids, especially boys, need some balance between the male and female energies of their parents. They need to know that there’s a time and a place to stand your ground, to stick up for yourself. They also need to not be violent dickheads and go around punching everyone they can.

“I think you’re right in a way,” says Hana. “I’ve had similar things happens to me at work.”

“We’re here!” says James from the backseat.

Hana pulls into the parking lot and we all get out of the car.

Opposite Dean’s pizza place, which is a run down little building, there’s a park with a long sloping hill.

“I used to go sledding there as a kid,” I say, pointing out the spot to James.

He’s fascinated by the idea of me doing things as a kid, apparently, and he can’t get enough of it.

He’s asking me a ton of questions as we enter the building.

“Did you know my mom since you were a kid?” he says.

“Nope,” I say. “I met her after high school, actually. I think I was already 19 or just about to turn 19, I can’t quite remember.”

“You don’t know when your own birthday is?” comes a booming voice from behind the pizza counter.

The place looks exactly as I remember it, full of dirt and grime and all. The place may not be pretty to look at, but it has the best pizza, and the kitchen’s always clean even though you might not suspect it from looking at the rest of the place.

“Dean!” I say, moving towards him to give him a handshake.

He looks older, years older actually. It’s only been a few years. But he looks like he’s aged at least a decade. His hair has gone completely white and he’s starting to lose it in the front. But Dean still has the same under-the-squat rack stance that he always had. And he moves and stands like his feet and back are still killing him.

“Noah Strong,” he booms. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I heard you’re a big shot media guy now.”

I shrug. “Just trying to make a living,” I say.

“Looks like you’re doing pretty well. And who’s this pretty lady, and this buckaroo here? Your wife and son?”

I laugh.

“Just a friend from school,” I say. “We met up again at one of my signings. This is her son, James. James, I’m sure you’ve seen Dean before, but I doubt you met him personally.”

“How you doing, little fellow?” says Dean, shaking James’s hand over the counter, bending down and over, even though I can see that it kills his back to do so.

“Hi,” says James.

“James loves your pizza,” says Hana. “He’s always begging to come here.”

Dean chuckles. “Everyone loves this pizza,” he says. “That’s the only reason I’m still open, even though it’s killing my damn back. Excuse me, my darn back.”

Dean gives us a huge pepperoni pizza for free. He completely refused payment, and Hana seems to be impressed that I have such a strong reputation here.

She shouldn’t be surprised, though. She knows that back then I was the king of the school and king of the town.

But maybe I want her to be my queen.

James ends up being a real hoot. It turns out it’s easier to talk to him than I thought it would be. We talk about what sports he wants to play, and of course we talk about toys and video games that he likes.

“I bet your mom doesn’t let you play video games very much, does she?” I say.

“Not enough,” says James.

I laugh.

“You’ve got to work on that, Hana,” I say.

She just smiles at me and looks me in the eyes, her eyes bright with something, some emotion I can’t quite capture. It gives me a warm feeling in my heart though, something that I know will last a long time.

“What do you say if you have a sleepover at your grandparents’ house tonight, James?” says Hana.

“Yeah!” says James. “Is Grandma going to make brownies again?”

“As long as they’re normal brownies,” says Hana.

I laugh, catching her double meaning.

I get up to use the bathroom, and after I come out, Hana meets me in the hallway. We’re well away from the table where James is playing with his last slice of pizza. She moves her body close to mine. “I have to take him to my parents’ house, but I’ll meet you tonight at 11pm, like we said. I can’t wait.”

The way she whispers this sends shivers of expectation up my spine. It makes my cock start to swell and I have to take a moment to think about baseball for it to calm down before moving away from the bathroom alcove area.