Burned(8)

When I wasn’t in the backyard exploding canvases while Collin stood by cheering as the final design made itself known, I was inside, curled up on the couch in Collin’s arms sketching out new designs for my next attempt.
Collin did everything he could to encourage me while keeping me safe, even going so far as dragging me to the fire station a few times a month so that the men could look at my supplies and make sure I was taking all of the proper precautions when I created one of my masterpieces. He never complained when my nose was stuck in a sketchpad or my fingers were permanently dyed black from the powder. Even when I hated what I created, he would roll it up, stick it in the backseat of his car and take it home to hang on the wall in his room because he wanted to be the first one to own a ‘Finnley Morgan Original.’ At the end of our two years together, all four of his walls and his ceiling were completely covered in my designs.
When our relationship died, so did my love of fire and art. The dream of art school was replaced with settling on a career that would pay the bills and keep a roof over my head while my husband pissed our money away. Whenever I played around with the idea of getting back to my hemp paper and gunpowder, Jordan would roll his eyes and tell me it was a waste of time. After I gave up on my dream, the only time I ever thought about my art was when I thought about Collin and wondered if he was happy. I didn’t even realize how much I missed it—or him—until right this very minute.
Collin understood my passion for art more than anyone else in my life before or since. He was my first boyfriend, his lips were the first I’d ever kissed, his hands brought me to my first orgasm and his dick was the first I’d ever had in my hands—and my mouth. These are things a girl just doesn’t forget.
“Shit, I wonder what he’s been up to over the years. That boy has turned into a fine looking man.”
Not that I’d tell Phina, but I know exactly what he’s been up to. Through the power of Facebook on nights when I had a little too much to drink or when Jordan and I were fighting, I might have looked up his profile and kept tabs on him. After college, he moved out of state and became a fireman like he’d always dreamed. When I realized that I was a very married woman fixating on a man I had no hope of ever seeing again, I made a conscious effort to curb my internet stalking. It’s been a while since I last looked at his page and I had no idea he was back in town.
“Well, holy shit! If it isn’t Phina Giordano!”
Both of us make the mistake of turning around when we hear the shout from the next table over. Heading our way with a beer in his hand and a smile on his handsome face is D.J. Taylor, best friend to Collin and the guy who had the unfortunate task of handing me Collin’s break-up note senior year and dealing with me crying on his shoulder between sixth and seventh period.
“Damn, and Finnley Morgan too? It’s our lucky night, Collin!”
Collin turns around when he hears my name and looks in our direction. Our eyes meet and, for a moment, I wonder if he’ll even recognize me. I mean, seventeen years is a long time. I haven’t changed a ton, but I know I don’t look exactly like I did back then. I’m taller and I have curves and boobs that hadn’t quite filled out the last time he had his hands on them. Due to his Facebook pictures that I may or may not have poured over a few dozen times, I would recognize him anywhere. Those pictures did not do him justice, though. Phina was absolutely right. He’s definitely turned into a fine looking man. He was cute as a teenager, but he is f*cking hot as an adult. He’s well over six-feet now and the worn jeans sitting low on his hips fit him like they were made for his thighs and ass. He’s wearing a long-sleeved navy-blue t-shirt that stretches across his chest, showing off some very well-defined muscles. My eyes trace over the words Franklin FD written in yellow across his chest, confirming that he must still be a fireman. The fact that the city listed on his shirt is one town over means he must have moved back home since the last time I drunkenly stalked him. I can’t explain the sudden burst of happiness any more than I can contain the smile that hits my face at the thought of Collin being so close.