Falling For Us Again

19. OLD FRIEND

Chapter 19

OLD FRIEND

Jenna

I shouldn’t be here.

I tell myself that for the hundredth time.

But here I am, standing in the crowded gymnasium of Hartlow High. I can’t help but feel out of place, just like I did in High school.

Lola's persistence had gotten me here, as always—her arm looped through mine earlier, dragging me out the door, her insistence wearing down every single protest I made.

"Come on, Jenna. You need this. It'll be fun. I promise."

“It won't be. I have no friends there.”

“You have me.”

“Only you. Most people didn't like me.”

“Because you were dating the hottest dude in school. It was jealousy, and everyone’s grown now.”

I roll my eyes. “No, Lola. I’ll work through the night.”

“You know you won't. You’ll spend the night brooding. They’ll fawn over you now that you're a famous author. Everyone will be nice,” she says, trying to cajole me.

I don't say anything.

She presses further. “Come on, Jenna, come with me. We’ll be together.”

I sigh, my hands falling to my sides in defeat.

And now, here I am, looking at faces I haven’t seen in over a decade, some familiar, others I don’t remember.

The old gym has been decked out in red and gold streamers, echoing the colors of our long-forgotten school pride. A banner hangs awkwardly over the entrance—Hartlow High Class of 2009 Reunion.

The energy is celebratory as old classmates troop in, shouting familiar names good-naturedly. But as I take in their faces, many still hanging on to the same cliques, it feels more like a strange time warp, a place where I don’t belong anymore, in fact never did.

Some called me weird and said nasty things about my family behind my back, as I pretended not to notice.

Thank God for Lola and Dylan. I don’t know if I would have survived without them.

Around me, people hug, shake hands, and exchange pleasantries, their words blending into a low buzz. I catch snippets of conversations about old high school memories, of marriages, breakups, and kids.

Some are dressed to impress, hoping to rekindle forgotten friendships, or flings, while others, like me, linger at the edges, unsure of how to fit into this version of Hartlow High.

I glance toward the dance floor, and there’s Lola—of course—twirling, laughing loudly as she spins in a circle with some guy I don’t recognize.

Her joy is infectious, and for a brief second, I’m glad she made me come. If nothing else, Lola deserves this happiness and I’ll do anything to see her like this.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I turn, expecting it to be one of the other alumni I vaguely remember, but my heart stutters when I see who it is.

Paul.

Dylan’s ex-best friend.

He stands there, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. I blink, taken off guard by his presence.

Of all the people I expected to bump into tonight, Paul wasn’t one of them.

“Paul?”

“I was a hundred percent sure that there was no way it was you, Jenna, but it is.” He says, an incredulous look in his eyes.

He gives me a quick hug.

“My god, it is so good to see you, wow, you look amazing.”

“So good to see you too, Paul. It’s been so long.”

“How long has it been again?”

“Too long.” I laugh.

“Never thought I’d see you back in Hartlow. Especially not in any reunion.” His voice is teasing, but there’s warmth in it too.

I can tell he’s genuinely surprised and pleased to see me.

“I could say the same about you. What are you doing in town?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Same thing as everyone else, I guess. Reliving my glory days, catching up with old friends.”

I chuckle, knowing better.

"Okay, but you’ve got a much better excuse to be elsewhere. You know, the whole bestselling author thing.”

I shake my head, feeling a flush of heat creep up my neck. “I’m not—”

“Oh, come on,” he cuts me off with a playful grin. “Don’t be modest. You write novels people actually want to read. That’s more than most of us can say.”

I laugh. It’s comforting how easy it is to fall into conversation with him, despite everything. Despite the history between us—between him and Dylan.

“How have you been?”

He nods. “Life’s good; I can't complain.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve it.”

“I tried reaching out to you after you left, but you’d changed your number.”

I nod solemnly. “I did.”

“You know, I was so surprised when I got the signed package of your first book. I thought I was being trolled for a while until I got the second and third books. Now, I anticipate a package every time I hear that you're working on a new book.”

“It’s just my way of saying thank you, you know,” I say after a beat, meeting his eyes. “You helped me leave Hartlow in the first place. Even if it cost you your friendship with Dylan.”

His smile falters for a second at the mention of Dylan. He winces before he speaks. “You were hurting really bad here. I'm glad I could help.” He shrugs. “I can't blame Dylan for cutting me off though; I probably would have done the same thing.”

We watch our classmates together in silence, the soft music playing a soothing backdrop to our conversation.

“I have to ask, now that you're back in Hartlow.”

I cut him off. “I’m not back in Hartlow, per se. I'm only here to sell my parents’ property.”

He clicks his teeth. “Done with this town, are you?”

I bite my lips. “There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

“There’s Dylan.” He says, peering at me intently with those dark eyes.

“No.” I shake my head. “We’ve spent a decade apart. He hates me for what he thinks we did, and how I left things. I hurt him badly. I’ll be leaving soon, and he’ll be back to hating me again.”

Even as I say this, it sounds hollow to my ears now. Last night was different. Hearing him whisper how much he missed me as we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms awakened something in me. I’m afraid of the implications of these emotions, and so I refuse to dwell on them.

I remind myself that I can't let Dylan back into my life. His mother will always hate me, and I don't think I can handle that hostility in my life.

I need to sell my parents’ house and leave Hartlow as soon as possible.

His expression is more serious now. “I’m not sure if I should be saying this, but it was hard for him when you left. Really tough to see him struggle like that.”

“I left town shortly after, but he was deeply hurt. I always wondered if you two would ever find your way back to each other.”

My throat is suddenly dry. The weight of his words settles heavy in my chest. “We’re not... I mean, it’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Paul says with a rueful smile. “Have you told him the truth?”

I don't need to look at him to know what he's talking about. Dylan thought we betrayed him by sleeping with each other, but we never did.

We all fell apart over it. Over a lie. A necessary one, but a lie nonetheless.

“No.”

“You should. He still believes that we slept together. He deserves to know the truth.”

I know he’s right.

Paul sighs before squeezing my hand lightly. He doesn’t push the subject and I'm grateful for that.

“Anyway, where’s Lola? I've been looking around for her. I heard she's getting married soon.” Paul looks disappointed. “Ten years later, and I still manage to lose my crush. What is this life?”

I laugh. “She’s on the dance floor. Also, who knows if you've really lost her? The universe works in mysterious ways.”

He raises his eyebrows, but I only smile.

“Wanna dance?” Paul asks, surprising me. He holds out his hand, his grin back in place. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Just like old times.”

I hesitate for a moment, glancing at the couples swaying on the dance floor. But then I catch Lola’s eye from across the room, and she gives me a thumbs-up, her smile encouraging.

What the hell? Why not?

“Sure,” I say, placing my hand in his.

He leads me to the dance floor, and we settle into an easy rhythm. The music is slow, a nostalgic tune from some long-forgotten pop ballad, and for a moment, it feels like I’m back in high school, like nothing’s changed, and the years that stretched between then and now haven’t happened.

Paul is easy to talk to. He always has been. We exchange stories about our lives since high school, about the things we’ve seen and done. He teases me about the books I’ve written, claiming he’s read every single one.

“Not even going to lie, I tried to meet you at one of your book signing events.”

“No way, what? Where?”

“LA. It was so silly and a little embarrassing.”

I laugh. “Please tell me about it.”

“I was there for business, and my colleagues and I were going to have lunch at a nearby restaurant. But the cafe across from ours was really crowded, and we saw that it was because Jenna Goldberg was there.”

There's laughter in his voice as he talks. “The problem was that my colleagues didn't believe that I really knew the real Jenna Goldberg, or that my signed books were legit. And they definitely didn’t believe that we went to school together and were friends.”

“So, they insisted I prove to them that I actually know you.”

I burst into laughter. “I can already imagine how this ends.”

He continues while spinning me gently in time with the music. “So, we all went to the cafe, and I kept trying to get past the security, telling them I’m Paul Baird, Jenna’s friend from high school.

I kept repeating, ‘Just tell Jenna it’s Paul’ like a freaking lunatic. They tossed me out like yesterday’s garbage.”

I am laughing now. “Oh my God.”

“Jenna, I was so freaking embarrassed, and my colleagues have never let me live it down.” He laughs. “One of the three most embarrassing moments of my life for sure.”

Knowing Paul, I’m afraid to ask about the other two.

“I’m so sorry about that. I can only imagine.” My cheeks are aching from laughing so much.

“Not gonna lie, it was a mess.” He grins ruefully.

“Maybe we should take a picture now so you can show them that we’re actual pals.”

“That would be great. The greatest uno reverse they ever saw.” He whips out his phone, and we take some selfies.

I can’t help but smile at his playfulness and the way he can lighten the mood so effortlessly. It’s been so long since I’ve had a conversation like this—easy.

My cheeks are burning from how much I’m laughing, and I finally start to feel comfortable in this place.

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.