Promise Me (2 page)

Even though I know rationally I should stay away from him, I feel comforted by his touch and the warmth of his body all around me. He shifts me just so, and I find myself curled up in his side as he begins to walk forward with me still wrapped in his arms and away from the window where my heart has just been obliterated. He walks me back towards the street where lines of cars are tightly parked from all the party goers. I spot my car and when we're standing directly in front of it, I slip out of his arms and he looks at me intently for a split second until he speaks again. "Give me your keys," he says quietly but with enough authority so that there is not a doubt of whether I should consider it for a moment. I hand him the keys and he proceeds to open my door and carefully guide me into the passenger seat. I watch him while he closes my door and walks around the front of the car until he reaches the driver's side. Without saying a word he slides in, starts the engine and begins to drive. As I stare out the window, I can't help but think of what I just witnessed. The scene just repeats itself over and over in my head.

Just today I had told my boyfriend Chris that my parents weren't letting me go to the party, having been grounded for something that I can't even remember right now. He was disappointed, or at least I thought he was. But when Lisa sidled up to our conversation and joked that she would keep an eye on him for me, we all laughed it off, knowing full well that Lisa was more apt to get herself into some harmless trouble than Chris. Lisa walked away to her next class, but Chris stayed behind. He grabbed my hand and told me how sorry he was that I couldn't make it and that maybe he shouldn't go either. I instantly brushed the idea way, insisting that he go ahead and have some fun without me.

After dinner, I had tried calling him and got his voice mail. Instead of leaving a message, I decided to have some fun and be a little defiant. My heart raced as I impatiently waited in my bedroom for my parents to go to bed. I had never snuck out of my house before. It's not like I had to go to the party, but I couldn't get the disappointed look on Chris' face earlier in the day out of my head when he found out I wouldn't be able to go. So, at around 11 o'clock, I tip toed out of my room, down the hallway, until I reached the back door of the house. I was having second thoughts about sneaking out so late when I turned the handle to leave, but I quickly threw them aside as visions of Chris being surprised and happy to see me propelled me further.

Arriving at the party, I decided to go around to the back of the house and enter through the back door so that I wouldn't be noticed right away by Chris. Walking along the side of the house, I glanced to my left and looked through the windows. Browsing through the first few windows, I saw plenty of people I knew dancing, drinking, and having a great time. As I approached the last window, I smiled when I looked up and saw Lisa's small frame being hoisted up by a guy until her legs were wrapped around his waist. It was then that I froze with the realization that she was with Chris. They were locked in a very passionate kiss, breaking away from each other for a second to get some air until they started right where they had left off. At first, I had a fleeting notion of confronting them. Then, as the initial shock and anger settled itself into my thoughts, an immeasurable amount of hurt rolled through me. The pain kept me tethered to that spot by the window, forcing me to look on silently while my boyfriend started tugging at my best friend's shirt.
My
best friend. I can't believe she could have done this to me, her "sister," as she would sometimes call me. I thought I knew her. Now, I'm sure I never did.

"He doesn't deserve you."

Tyler's voice is quiet, but loud enough to snap me out of my reverie. I look over in his direction to see him staring blankly at the road before him. My eyes trail down to his hands to see he is gripping the steering wheel for dear life. The exposed skin on his forearm is flexing and the veins are visible in the faint light the dashboard provides.

I don't answer him, instead I return to staring out my window in a daze until my street comes into view. Before I can tell him where to park my car, he pulls it deftly into a space across the street from my house and kills the engine.

I can't move. I'm glued to my seat and staring at the floorboards. The silence is unsettling; making it worse is the fact that I can feel him staring at me. He turns slightly in his seat and from the corner of my eye I see his hand cautiously approaching my face. He places his hand lightly under my chin, slowly tilting it up and turning it towards him. Whatever thoughts he's having, he's hiding them behind his intense stare. I feel embarrassed, remembering that he has now seen me at my lowest. He senses that I'm about to turn away, so he holds me firmly by applying more pressure to my chin.

"He doesn't deserve you, Sabrina."

I gather up the courage to look straight in his eyes and tell him, "You keep saying that."

He hesitates before he answers me, but not before a sigh escapes his lips, "You're special. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Did he just say that he thinks I'm beautiful? My expression must mirror the surprise I'm feeling because the corners of his mouth twitch slightly as if to stifle a grin.

My voice drops so low that I barely hear myself ask, "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Yeah, I do," he says just as quietly. "Not only are you beautiful but you're really smart and too good to be with an asshole like Chris Lyons."

My brain is not absorbing what he just said. This night couldn't get any worse or crazier if I was in an episode of
The X-Files
. Tyler Anderson, probably the hottest and most dangerous guy in town is telling me all of this on the same night I caught my best friend since grade school and boyfriend of three years going at it like there was no tomorrow.

"But you don't know me at all Tyler," I tell him as I feel the tears break free again. And really, he doesn't. I've seen him here and there but can't say that I know anything real about him other than what I've heard through the grapevine. He inclines slightly forward so that he's just a few inches from my face. He takes the opportunity to tenderly wipe some of the tears that are trickling down my cheeks with his thumbs. I feel like a moth to a flame, drawn into his chocolate gaze and I begin to mentally chastise myself for feeling nervous -the good kind- when I'm still reeling from the night's revelations.

"I know you and I see you," he whispers softly, "the real you."

He leans closer and I tense up thinking that he's going to kiss me. Instead, he unlatches my seatbelt and pushes up the manual lock on the passenger door. He pulls back, unlocks his door and gets out, walks around the front of the car to open my door and holds out his hand to help me out. With his other hand, he hands me my keys, but not before scanning my face as if he's looking for something specific. With a slight grin that causes his lips to curl up just enough to look ridiculously sexy, he says, "You're going to be fine, trust me."

Before I walk across the street to my house, it dawns on me that he drove my car here and that he has no way to get back to the party. "Tyler, let me give you a ride home at least?"

He shakes his head and says, "No thanks."

"I can give you a ride back to the party then," I say trying to find a way to repay him for his kindness. In the back of my mind, I'm considering whether I actually want him to leave me at all. The thought terrifies and thrills me all at the same time.

"I'm walking. Don't worry about me, I'm good. Thanks anyway," his response comes out clipped as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I feel terrible that you'll have to walk," I counter and try to maneuver around his large frame to make it to the driver's side of my car. He grabs me by the arm, pulling me close so that we are pressed together. His hand comes up to tuck a lock of my auburn hair that has fallen out of my pony tail behind my ear. He bends down to place a chaste kiss on my cheek, his face lingering a second or two longer than necessary before he pulls away for good.

"Go to bed, Sabrina," he says to me, "promise me that tomorrow you'll dump his sorry ass, cut that bitch out of your life, and try to hold on as best you can until you're out of this shit hole town in a couple of months."

I don't even know what to say to him. I still can't think clearly. My brain is in a haze of painful visions of Chris and Lisa all over each other, intermingled with Tyler being sweet and gentle and taking care of me.

"Promise me," he says in a slightly more demanding tone, but his voice still soft enough that I know he's sincere.

"I promise."

He nods, as if he's content with my response and turns to walk away from me. When I step off the curb to cross the street, I hesitate and call out to him, "Tyler!" He stops and turns around a few feet away from me, but I can still see his face clearly. "Thank you... for everything."

He smiles at me one last time then turns around and walks into the night, disappearing completely from my sight.

The graduating class of 2001 invites you to

our 10 year class reunion!

June 25th, 2011, Skippack Golf Club,

Five-thirty for cocktails,

Followed by dinner and dancing at six-thirty.

The invitation arrived yesterday, and all I could think was, how the hell did they find out where I live? I mean, I don't really stay in touch with many people from my home town except for my parents. I definitely wouldn't put it past them to give out my address in the hopes of getting me to come home for a visit though. Being an only child, they make sure to check up on me at least twice a week, three times even, if I don't take the initiative to call them on my own at least one of those times. Every call is filled with the usual questions about my job, my life, etc. They keep me up to date about what's going on back home. All the calls end the same way, wanting to know when I'll be coming back home for a visit. My answer…"We'll see."

"So, are you going?" My roommate and best friend Julia asks as she sits across from me at our kitchen table about to pour an obscene amount of creamer into her coffee. Over the years, it never ceases to amaze me how much crap this girl can put in her body and still look like she belongs on a runway in Milan.

"Jesus Julia," wondering at what point would be enough cream for her, "how about some coffee with that cream?"

Julia looks at me from under her blonde veil of bangs with her big blue eyes, giving me the look she usually reserves for someone annoying the hell out of her. She puts down the creamer, leans forward, puts on a sickly sweet smile and says, "Answer the question."

"Seriously, do I even have to answer that question?"

"Hell yes, you do!"

My non answer is the answer, and she knows it. She knows I don't want to go back there and face the past. Even after all this time, it's hard to move on after heartbreak, especially when your best friend and your boyfriend hooked up behind your back. Adding insult to injury, they ended up getting married and are presently living happily ever after. Meanwhile, I ran away to college hoping to forget all about the embarrassment I went through, spending the first couple of years away from home as a recluse.

During my junior year at The University of Miami, I met Julia. She was funny and outgoing from the start. She showed me that I could again have a sincere connection with someone after my unfortunate situation with Lisa. She was my polar opposite, personality wise... and I loved it. She coaxed me into living my life a little bit more every day, and always has my best interests at heart. I like to think that our mutual adoration of
Felicity
and all things J.J. Abrams helped bring us closer together though. To this day, we have a standing appointment every few months for a
Felicity
"best of "marathon, which is always followed up spending an inordinate amount of time debating the age old question, Ben or Noel.

It was Julia that convinced me to take the opportunity of a lifetime and enroll in an Art History internship program in Florence, Italy after graduating from college. Living there was beyond my wildest dreams. I pretty much lived and breathed art before then, but being in the epicenter of it all was invigorating. It gave me a sense of purpose and only helped to solidify my chosen career path. I stayed there for a couple of years until the internship ended and it was time to go back home to Miami and find a job.