Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(36)

I pulled into the parking garage across the street from The Pitchfork forty minutes later. Why did we need to have our reunion in Philly when we went to school almost thirty minutes outside of it? Deciding that the organizers were clearly morons, I parked my car and headed toward the bar. As I walked in, I tried to remember why I had even agreed to go to my reunion.

“Yo, *, where ya been?”

Oh, yeah. That was why. “What’s up, Frank? How long have you been here?”

“About twenty minutes. I got here right at eight. I got a drink with some guys from work closer to the office and then caught a cab over here.”

“Huh,” I replied as I scanned the room. The reunion was for graduates only, so there were no husbands, wives, or significant others around unless they had also graduated with us. “How did Claire take the news that you'd be coming alone?” I asked with a smirk. Claire didn’t trust Frank in the least, mostly because he acted like a pig. But that was all it was: an act. To my knowledge, he had never f*cked around on Claire. Probably because she had threatened to reenact the movie Burning Bed if she ever found him with another woman.

“She got over it.”

I let out a brief laugh, knowing damn well it had probably taken an act of God and a ton of sexual favors for her to get over it. As we stood there surveying the room, a redhead I didn’t recognize slinked past us as she eyed me suggestively. I held her gaze and licked my lips. Man, do I wish I could remember her.

I heard Frank grumble beside me. “Come on, ladies’ man. Let’s mingle.” Then he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me away from the hot redhead. Though I couldn’t resist one last look over my shoulder. And damn if she wasn’t still staring at me.

***

Two hours later and I was having the time of my life. Being around people from high school had successfully catapulted my maturity level back to that of a teenager as we told lame jokes and laughed hysterically at the petty crimes we had committed fifteen years ago. It was great.

I had just finished regaling the crowd with my tale of the time a few other buddies and I had put the principal’s tiny two-door car in the stairwell when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I noticed Frank’s brows raise as I turned slowly. Jesus Christ. It was the redhead.

She watched me curiously for a moment before saying, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Shit. I really hated conversations that started that way. I quickly racked my brain for any hints as to who this woman could be. Coming up empty, I shrugged and stammered. “Uh, no, I, umm . . . sorry, I . . .”

She eventually took pity on me and reached her hand toward me. “Carly Stanton.”

I had hoped that a name would ring some kind of bell for me, but it didn’t. “Uh, hi, Carly. I’m Adam—”

“Adam Carter,” she finished for me. “Yeah, I know.”

This was going from bad to worse. “I’m so sorry, Carly, but I’m drawing a complete blank here.”

She shrugged. “I’m not totally surprised by that. After all, we only spent about seven minutes together in the four years we knew each other.” Her eyes twinkled a little as she revealed this tidbit.

And then it hit me. Seven minutes. “Holy shit, Carly Stanton.” I smiled broadly at her as the memory of our time together in Brad Holbrook’s basement while we played Seven Minutes in Heaven flowed through me. She had moved onto my street in ninth grade, and though we had seldomly interacted, I had often admired her from afar. Needless to say, the seven minutes we spent together had been one of the highlights of my high school days. Quickly allowing my eyes to skate over her body, I felt my pulse throb a little harder. The years have definitely been good to her. She was only about 5’5”, but her stiletto heels caused her legs to seem endless. Her frame was thin, with average but perky tits and the most mesmerizing blue eyes I had ever seen.

“I thought that may jar your memory,” she giggled.

“It sure did.” What guy didn’t remember awkwardly fumbling boobs in a dark room? The smile on my face was too big, but I couldn’t rein it in. “How have you been?” It was such an unoriginal question, but my brain was only working at half capacity since most of my blood was currently pumping in the opposite direction.

“I’ve been good. I work at an advertising firm in the city, been there about five years now.”

“Five years? What were you doing before then?” Who cares, Adam? Get to the good stuff, like if she wants to suck your dick in the back seat of your car.

“Ugh, I was a teacher. I spent four years teaching high school Math before I finally admitted to myself that it just wasn’t for me. I figured if I was going to be forced to do something I hated, I at least wanted to make good money doing it. So I transitioned to advertising and actually found that I liked it.”

I nodded my head, still smiling, though it was strained now. Why did she have to say she had been a teacher? I hadn’t thought about Lily since I’d arrived, but now I couldn’t think of anything else.

Silence fell between us and I found myself unable to fill it. Thankfully, Carly picked up the slack. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Get it together. You aren’t dating Lily and, if memory serves, this woman gave you some of the best seven minutes of your life about seventeen years ago. I cleared my throat and gave her the rundown: architect, daughter, single. I may have emphasized single.