I grabbed the folded note in front of me and stumbled out the door.
“Bryn,” an apprehensive voice called out behind me.
I didn’t pause or turn around. I had to get to my room where I could allow the pain to have its way with me.
“Come on, stop!” A hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Paul’s face was lined with concern. “Are you alright? I can’t believe she did that.” He eyed the note in my hand and shook his head.
“What would you have preferred happen, Paul?” I questioned, my pain growing to anger, misguided as it was. “Everyone know about this except for me?”
He dropped his hand from my shoulder, looking hurt. “No. I just wanted to save you some heartache,” he whispered. “I knew you’d figure it out on your own eventually once he stopped showing his face around here. That,”—he pointed with his eyes at the note again—“is unneeded pain in your life.”
“Some plan,” I murmured, feeling my eyes filling with tears. “Just leave me alone, okay?”
I turned and ran down the hall, down the stairs and was out the front door before the first tear escaped. They were flowing by the time I crawled into my car and brought the engine to a roar. I tore out of the parking lot with only one destination in mind.
I’d lost him, just as I’d feared from the first day he entered my life. He’d broken up with me by leaving behind some crummy note he didn’t even have the courage to give to me directly. I should be furious beyond repair, but I wasn’t.
The man of my dreams I would never see again. I should be devastated beyond recognition, but I wasn’t. Mile after mile of the same highway I’d travelled with him just a day ago brought no other emotion but peace.
Halfway to my destination the tears stopped, and still the peace clung to me, as if this was his parting gift. He was gone, that was a fact, but why did he still feel so near? And why, despite everything, did I just not care? I searched my mind, trying to find some deep, philosophical reason, but the answer was simple and on the tip of my tongue. I loved him.
As inexperienced as I was when it came to loving a man, I knew what love was. It didn’t pick and choose what pieces of people to love, and it continued on even when the one you loved was no longer around.
I also knew you couldn’t choose who you loved, and knowing it would forever leave me alone, I made my choice: it was William. I’d given him my heart and I didn’t want it back, and in turn, he’d left behind a peace and clarity that was changing my world.
The lights in the public parking lot in Newport were buzzing in the misty haze rolling off the ocean. I killed the engine, noticing the headlights in my rear-view mirror, but not paying them much attention. Walking a few yards from my car, I selected a piece of my own oceanfront property and sat down, still not able to comprehend why I felt such peace. Even before my parents had been murdered, I’d forfeited my Ivy League scholarship, and lost the man of my dreams, I’d been a bit on the high-strung side—so I should be loosing it right now. We’re talking hair-pulling, stomach-sobbing, agitated walking fits, hysterical loosing it. Here I was though, basking in a calm that would have put the Dali Lama to shame.
“This seat taken?”
I jolted before I looked up to see who was responsible for interrupting my solitude and the owner of the headlights in my rear-view mirror.
“Saved it for you.” I patted the sand beside me and smiled up at Paul.
He plopped down and nudged me with his shoulder. “I’d ask how you were doing but that would kind of be a rhetorical question at this point.”
“I look that good, huh?” I felt good on the inside, but to an observer, I’m sure my puffy, tear-stained face would have led them to believe I was anything but fine.
“No, it’s not that,” Paul answered quickly. “You look great . . . as always.” It looked like he was blushing, but it was dark and I doubted Paul Lowe was the kind of guy that blushed. “It’s just that you’ve had a crazy week.”
I nodded. “Yeah. You think?”
Paul was silent for a few moments, and the chorus of waves filled in the gaps in our conversation. I couldn’t resist playing back in my mind William riding these waves.
“Bryn, I’m so sorry—”
I grabbed his forearm and squeezed. “No apologies, okay? I’ve got plenty to apologize to you for myself,” I said, remembering my less-than-pleasant behavior with him lately. “Let’s just call it even and move on. Sound good?”
He looked relieved. “Sounds great.”
“That’s settled then.” I released his arm and began scrolling circles in the sand. “So did everyone know about the letter before me?” With the reminder of it, I could almost feel it burning me from where it still sat unopened in the cab of my Camaro. I was sure reading his words in his handwriting would hurt a hundred times more than hearing it paraphrased from someone else.
“No!” His answer was instant. “I overheard the bimbo twins talking about you this morning and when I asked them what was up, they showed me the letter. I told them not to say anything to you about it, but that obviously didn’t happen.” He looked off at the black ocean and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. You had a right to know.”
“He was gone either way.” I realized the drawing I was making in the sand resembled an eye so I swept it clean. “You’re heart was in the right place.”
Paul’s heart was always in the right place. Despite everything that’d gone askew with me, his intentions couldn’t be questioned.
He looked hard into my eyes and his expression turned serious. “Keep your eyes open, okay—just in case he decides to come back? I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”
“Really?” I said sarcastically. “It seemed like you guys were going to be best friends.”
“I’m being serious here,” he said urgently. The skin at the corners of his eyes creased. “After he seemed to just magically appear out of nowhere, I did some asking around . . .”
My eyebrows squeezed together.
“Long story short, I found out a William Winters had never been registered at OSU. He basically showed up one day and was gone the next,” Paul said, gazing with interest at my face that I knew was blanching bone white before him.
He grabbed my shoulder and shook me gently. “I know, I know. None of my business, but I thought you should know.” The rhythmic shaking kept me from passing out from the information overload being fired at me. Paul snapped his fingers, doing a final clearing of my head. “I promise I won’t say another thing about him.” He crossed his heart and chuckled before looking back at me.
My gaze was intense and my breathing heavy, all due to the information Paul had just unloaded on me. William had never been registered at OSU? If it hadn’t been for Paul knowing about him, I would have believed I’d made him up.
Paul took a close examination of my wide eyes and accelerated breathing, and he reciprocated in turn. His fingertips curled against my cheek and his eyes closed as he crossed the distance between us, his lips leading.
My head backed away from his advance. “I can’t,” I whispered.
His hand dropped and he exhaled. “Yeah, I know,” he said, scratching his head. “I really suck at this timing thing.”
I attempted a laugh, but it sounded as nervous and uncomfortable as I felt. I was baffled (to put it gently) by the turn of events that had taken place over the past few days. Why had two men that were swoon worthy by every definition of the word suddenly taken an interest in me? ME?! Boring, painfully normal, hermit-like Bryn.
My reflection hadn’t changed in the mirror any, and I was positive I hadn’t developed any new charming characteristics to add to my inadequate repertoire. Maybe there was something in the Corvallis water, or maybe there was an extra credit assignment assigned in Sociology I wasn’t aware of . . . a Date a Loser Charity assignment.
Before I could rein in my curiosity, out it came. “Can I ask you sort-of a strange question?”
He perked up some, looking like the rejection was passing. “Absolutely—let’s have it.” He smiled one of those smiles that would undue most girls’ resolve. There was no denying it was quite some smile, but I recognized it for what it had likely been created and perfected for—to attract, unnerve and disillusion his female prey. From the height of his confidence, it had worked for him very well in the past.
“Why the sudden interest in me?” I spit out. I really didn’t care if he told me I was making a mountain of a mole hill, or that he was just trying to be nice . . . or heck, even if he did have an extra credit assignment in Sociology. I just needed to ask my question, and receive an answer.
Looking thrown by my to-the-point question, he began fumbling with his hands. “Well, um . . . I don’t know. You know . . .”
“It’s alright—you can tell me.” I smiled as charmingly as I knew how, and tried to bat my eyes in a becoming manner—knowing I probably looked like I was experiencing an eye spasm instead.
“Alright,”—he exhaled, as if about to confess to the vilest of crimes—“the truth is . . . you caught my eye the first day you moved-in,” he began, cracking his neck and looking down. “You were so pretty and sweet and . . . well, different from the other girls. More mature, more like you knew who you were and what you wanted, and didn’t feel the need to explain or apologize to anyone. It was different, and refreshing,” he admitted, looking ashamed he’d just divulged a secret that would forever impugn his name and status in the social mix at OSU.
I was so focused on his fidgeting and stammering to get his words out, that what he’d just said took a few moments to sink in. Pretty? Sweet?
Alright . . . there must be something in the water.
He continued, apparently not done with his confession, “But then you just sort of fell off the face of the world, and didn’t seem to be interested in anything or anyone. It was like you had a sign on your forehead telling everyone to bug off and leave you alone.”
I winced. I hated it when people told me how icy I came across—snotty, bitchy, and stuck-up were other popular descriptors used as well. My true trait of shyness was less gossip worthy, I guess.
“I let it go and figured you probably had a boyfriend back home, or were miserable here in Corvallis after moving from California. Then I saw you hanging out with him,” he rolled the word as if it were a profanity. “So I thought I’d take a chance and see if I could attract your attention, too.” The smile that capped his confession appeared shy; not at all the signature one he normally wore.
“Thank you,” I whispered, trying to overcome the tightness in my throat. “It really means a lot to me that you’d tell me the honest to goodness truth. This past year has been hard for me, but I’m sorry I came across so cold. I really didn’t think anyone else would notice, or care.”
“Hey, no apologies, remember?” he said, placing his arm around my shoulder and squeezing. “So,”—he dropped his arm and his tone changed to the lighter one I was used to—“I didn’t follow you all the way here just to talk your head off. I wanted to make sure you’d get to wherever you were going safely. Emotional women and dark, wet roads shouldn’t mix.” He stood up and swept the sand from his pants. “It’s late and I don’t want either of us travelling another sixty miles back to campus.”