As I sat flipping through my old school pictures, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of old memories hit me. It had been 20 years since I graduated, but staring at the photos made it seem like just yesterday.

There I was—young Pomeline Hale, with that goofy, wide-eyed grin stuck on my face, and under my yearbook shot, a sappy line I once thought was so deep:

“Love takes two to make it real.”

I chuckled at how clueless I had been back then, but the laugh faded fast as my eyes landed on his picture. Dorian Reed. My high school crush. The guy who had grabbed my heart for years.

I had been crazy about Dorian back then—slipping little notes into his locker, fumbling through flirty talks in my clumsy teen way, and even sneaking valentines into his bag when I thought no one saw.

I was dead sure we’d end up together, that he was the one.

I pictured our life so clear, even down to our wedding day. But here I was, 38 years old, still flying solo, and still wondering what had gone wrong.

Why had Dorian just cut me off like that right before graduation? He had ghosted me without a word, leaving me lost and crushed.

I hadn’t said a peep to him since, but the ache of it still stuck with me, fresh as ever after all this time.

Just as I started sinking deeper into the what-ifs, the doorbell buzzed, yanking me back to now.

I set the photo album down and went to open the door. My best pal Kerensa stood there, her usual big smile lighting up her face.

“Set for the class get-together, girl?” she asked, her buzz catching right away.

I paused, leaning against the doorframe.

“Honest, Kerensa, I’m not sure I wanna go.”

She raised a brow, clearly thrown.

“Why not? What’s up?”

I let out a long breath.

“I was just digging through old snaps, and it dragged up a bunch of stuff. You know, about Dorian.”

Kerensa rolled her eyes big time, crossing her arms.

“Dorian Reed? You’re still stuck on that after 20 years?”

“I know it sounds silly,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“But it still hurts. We were so close, and then he just dropped off like I meant nothing.”

Kerensa stepped in closer, putting a warm hand on my shoulder.

“Look, he might not even show tonight. And if he does, don’t let it wreck your fun. This bash is for linking up with old buddies and cutting loose, not digging up old hurts.”

I forced a grin, trying to shove the doubts aside.

“You’re right. But if he’s there… I’ll make sure he sees what he let slip.”

Kerensa grinned wide.

“That’s my girl.”

I was on edge the whole drive to the reunion. My fingers drummed my knee, and I kept peeking out the window, caught in a storm of feelings.

What if Dorian turned up? What if he skipped? Part of me wasn’t sure which would hurt more.

My heart sat heavy in my throat, and the closer we got, the harder it was to catch my breath.

As we pulled up to the spot, I checked my look in the rearview one last time, fixing my hair and smoothing my dress.

I couldn’t shake the jitters that clung to me tight.

“Pomeline, you look great. Seriously, quit stressing over Dorian—this night’s yours,” Kerensa said, her voice soft but sure.

“We’re gonna have a blast, okay?”

I gave her a weak smile, but the twist in my gut wouldn’t ease. “Thanks,” I mumbled, still fiddling with my hem.

“But what if he doesn’t come? I feel dumb getting all riled up over this. It’s been forever, Kerensa.”

“You’re not dumb,” Kerensa said, rolling her eyes like I’d said something wild.

“Truth is, if he shows, don’t waste breath on him. Let him spot what he missed, and we make this about us, not him.”

Her spark lit mine, and for a second, I felt steadier. We climbed out and headed for the door, but every step made my pulse thump louder.

The school rose up ahead, unlocking a flood of flashbacks—good ones, tough ones. I couldn’t believe I was stepping back into that old world.

The reunion felt like a trip back in time. Old faces waved us over, folks I hadn’t seen in ages, some barely changed, others I hardly knew now.

Laughter bounced around as buddies swapped stories and hashed out the glory days. I started to loosen up, even enjoying it, until I spotted him.

Dorian Reed.

My heart flipped hard as I saw him across the room. He looked different—older, sure, but still that rough charm I remembered.

A neat beard now, and the minute our eyes crossed, he smiled. A real, easy one that knocked me off guard. All the buried mad and questions rushed up quick.

Why’d he ice me out back then? Why leave me hanging with nothing?

Before I could move—or even sort the mess inside—Kerensa grabbed my arm, tugging me the other way gentle but firm.

“Stick to what I said,” she whispered, voice steady. “No talk.”

“Okay,” I muttered, trying to follow her lead, but part of me screamed to face him, to grab the answers I’d waited on for years.

Later that night, after we’d chatted with more old classmates, Kerensa knocked her drink all over her skirt. “Darn it!” she yelped, staring at the wet spot.

“This was new! Hold on, Pomeline, gotta clean this up.”

I watched her rush to the bathroom, leaving me alone for the first real stretch that evening.

I glanced around, feeling a bit lost without Kerensa there. The party hummed on—laughs, music—but I suddenly needed air.

Without thinking, I slipped out to the quiet bench in the schoolyard, my old favorite hideout.

It was the spot where I’d sit after classes, lost in dreams or jotting notes. Tonight, it felt like the right place to clear my head.

I sat down, eyes shut for a beat, letting the cool night air brush over me.

High school memories poured in—how free I’d felt, how full of hope. Then the Dorian ones. I shook my head, trying to push them off, but they hung on, like always.

Suddenly, I heard steps behind me. I blinked open and turned to see Dorian walking over, his easy smile lighting his face.

“Hey, Pomeline,” he said, voice warm but careful.

“Dorian,” I got out, pulse racing fast. “It’s been ages.”

“It has,” he said, stopping a few feet from the bench. “Wasn’t sure you’d wanna chat. You’ve dodged me all night.”

I let out a nervous laugh, words caught. “Wasn’t clear you’d wanna after how it ended senior year.”

Dorian looked truly puzzled. “Ended how? I thought you bailed after that note.”

“Note?” I repeated, brow creasing. “Never saw a note, Dorian.”

He sighed, face turning serious.

“I wrote you one asking to the park for a date. Slipped it in your locker, and when you didn’t show, I figured no go. Thought that’s why you dropped off.”

I shook my head, totally floored.

“Dorian, no note reached me. Thought you quit cold. Couldn’t figure what I did wrong.”

Before Dorian could reply, more steps sounded. Kerensa showed up, looking rattled, cheeks a bit red.

“What’s this talk?” she asked, a nervous edge in her voice I’d missed before.

“Kerensa,” I said slow, pieces clicking. “You know about Dorian’s note to me?”

Her face went white, and for a second, she looked ready to brush it off. But Dorian stepped up.

“Kerensa, you handed me her answer. Said she passed.”

I turned to Kerensa, gut dropping as I saw the shame in her eyes. “That true?” I asked, voice shaky.

Kerensa looked down, face burning with regret and sorry. “I… got jealous,” she whispered, barely loud.

“I liked Dorian, didn’t want you two pairing up. Figured you’d let go if the note stayed hidden.”

My chest squeezed with shock and anger mixed.

“You tricked us both? Wrecked it all over jealousy?”

“I’m sorry,” Kerensa whispered, eyes filling up. “Never figured it’d linger this long. Just didn’t wanna lose you either.”

“Get lost, Kerensa,” I said, voice trembling under years of pent-up hurt.

As Kerensa rushed off, a mix of sad, mad, and relief hit me.

Dorian stepped closer, arms pulling me into a soft hug. I leaned in, feeling the warmth I’d missed all these years.

“All this time,” I whispered, voice cracking, “thought you didn’t care.”

Dorian sighed, voice gentle. “Thought the same about you.”

For a moment, we stood there quiet, holding on, letting the old weight slip away slow.

“We can’t fix the past,” Dorian said, voice calm, “but we pick what’s next.”

I looked up at him, wiping tears with a small smile. “You’re right.”

We spent the rest of the night on that old bench, talking and laughing. We’d lost so much time, but I felt sure we wouldn’t waste more.