Drew stood next to a horseshoe-shaped archway, like those he’d seen on his recent trip to Marrakesh. He shifted his attention between his phone, the projector screen that featured a slideshow of snapshots from high school, and a group of his former basketball teammates he now regretted approaching.
As he listened to them, Drew was reminded why he rarely kept in touch with anyone from this crew. Most of them hadn’t matured past their high school days. Still cracking the same lame jokes and jockeying for position as the big man on campus.
He remained quiet. His success spoke for itself; he didn’t have anything to prove to these guys. Then again, he had never been one to seek validation from anyone other than his mother or uncle. And London Kelley.
Drew looked to where he’d last seen her, fussing with the four-foot-tall Moroccan-inspired lantern being used as one of the photo props. She was easy to spot. Unlike some women who resented the fact that they were tall, London had always embraced her height. Those sexy-as-hell heels she wore made her even more imposing.
She was stunning.
Her once gangly frame had filled out in all the best ways. She was now svelte and graceful, with the barest suggestion of curves underneath the flowing fabric of that fire-red jumpsuit that only London could pull off. Even though it was now streaked with chocolate.
His lips tipped up in a grin as he thought back to their conversation a little while ago. Drew could have spent the rest of the evening going back and forth with her, but after discovering her opposition to the changes happening at Travis County Hospital, he decided it would be best if he kept his distance. For a moment, he’d contemplated telling her that the board meeting she’d gotten the scoop on was to announce an audit of the hospital pending its potential acquisition. An audit performed by Trident Health Management Systems. His company.
But then he’d thought better of it. Why spoil their night with talk about work? She would find out soon enough.
A heated debate about this year’s NBA playoffs broke out among the basketball crew, signaling Drew’s cue to leave. He returned to the dessert table. Not because he was overly fond of cream puffs, but because it provided the best vantage point to view the entire ballroom.
He sought London out again, his heart rate accelerating as he spotted her heading straight toward him.
“Back so soon?” Drew asked casually as she approached.
“What can I say, I just couldn’t stay away from you,” she deadpanned. She snagged a melon ball from the fruit display. “I meant to ask earlier. Who does the apartment in that magazine belong to?”
“What do you mean? It’s my apartment.”
“Well, who decorated your apartment for that spread? I don’t believe for a second that you live in a place with only white furniture. No one lives that way.”
Whip smart, as always.
“It was a company that does staging for estate sales and stuff like that,” Drew admitted. “I checked into a hotel for three nights while they got the apartment ready and took those photos. But Tabitha is right, I can see Central Park from my bathroom.”
She snorted. “Life of the rich and famous.”
“Between the two of us, I think you’re the one with more fame,” he said.
She glanced over, serving him serious side-eye. “You’re going to bring up that stupid video with Craig, aren’t you?”
“I’m pretty proud of myself for holding out this long before asking you about it,” he said. “That video was everywhere. And, for the record, you were way out of that guy’s league. He was lucky you gave him the time of day.”
Her eyes teemed with suspicion even as they sparkled with mirth.
“That was very sweet of you,” she said. “It makes me uneasy.”
“That’s not fair,” Drew said. “You’ve been trying to make me out to be the bad guy since high school. I haven’t given you a single reason not to trust me.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, her expression still wary. “You’re definitely no Craig Johnson.” She blew out a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but…”
“But what?” Drew urged when she didn’t go further.
“I only went out with Craig so that I wouldn’t have to come to this reunion stag. Oh, the irony.” She laughed. “Just look at me. I still ended up here by myself, only now I’ve brought even more attention to the fact that I don’t have a date.”
Drew shrugged. “Who cares that you’re here alone. I don’t have a date either.”
“Yeah, but that’s to be expected.” She winced. “That was mean even for me, wasn’t it?”
“Extremely mean.”
“Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders, an irresistible smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Old habits die hard. And needling you has always been a favorite pastime.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I knew you got a special thrill out of making my life hell back in high school, but—”
“Excuse me?” She cut him off. “I made your life hell? Are you serious?”
“You were horrible to me!”
“I don’t know what kind of revisionist history is going on inside that head of yours, but don’t expect me to just forget the shit you pulled in high school, Drew Sullivan. You did everything within your power to show me up whenever you could.”
“Because you thought you were better than everyone else.”
“Not better, just smarter.”
Drew did his best to hold back his grin. That sass got him every damn time.
“I hate to be the one to remind you, but on paper, we’re equals. No one cares that you took advanced physics while I took PE.”
“It was advanced chemistry.”
He didn’t bother to hide his smile this time. “What if I officially renounced my co-valedictorian status? I’ll do it right here, right now. Would that make you happy?”
“Nope.” She picked up another melon ball and popped it in her mouth. “I’d rather go on blaming you for ruining my senior year for the rest of eternity. It’s more fun.”
“I did not ruin your senior year. If we’re being honest here, it’s the opposite. You never gave me the credit I deserve.”
“Credit for what?”
“For pushing you to work harder,” he said. “You were so far ahead of everybody else in our class that you probably would have started slacking by the time senior year rolled around. Who knows if you would have even gotten into medical school if I hadn’t been there to provide you competition? Face it, Dr. Kelley, if it wasn’t for me, you may not be a doctor at all.”
She threw her head back and released a full-throated laugh. She probably hadn’t intended for it to be sexy, but damn if it wasn’t.
“You are so full of shit, Drew. Then again, that doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been full of shit.” She pointed at him. “But you are right. You did push me to work harder. Getting the better of you in every single class was my sole mission in life fifteen years ago.”
“Told you,” Drew said. “You owe me.”
She picked up a toothpick, stabbed a cube of marbled cheese from the fruit display, and held it up to him. “Here’s some cheese to go with all that whine. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
Now it was his turn to laugh.
Drew had decided to attend tonight’s reunion only because it was being held in the same hotel where he was staying these first few nights in Austin. If the executive apartment he’d rented had been move-in ready, he doubted he would be in this ballroom right now.
If he’d known he would spend half the night going back and forth with London, he would have sent in his registration for the reunion when he’d first received—and promptly deleted—the email. Even after fifteen years, it was more than obvious that she had no idea that he’d crushed on her from the minute he arrived at Barbara Jordan High halfway through their junior year.
How could she know? She’d been too busy scheming his demise for swooping in and encroaching on her territory as smartest person in the class.
“So, tell me, London, what’s been going on with you these days?” Drew asked. “Outside of working at the hospital.”
He knew all about her job. Before his mom passed away last year, she would occasionally text him about that smart, pretty girl with the nice teeth he went to high school with, and how she was now a doctor who was sometimes interviewed on the local news.
“That’s pretty much all there is to me,” London said. “My job doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”
“You mean besides planning class reunions and going viral online?”
“Yeah, besides those things,” she said. “Oh, and I crochet now. It’s a new thing I’m trying. You know, broadening my horizons and all that good stuff.”
“Crochet, huh? Do you play bridge and take in stray cats too?”
“Hey, fiber art is the new hip thing, Drew Sullivan.”
“I would believe that if you’d used any word other than hip.”
“Shut up.” She laughed.
“Why do you have to make goading you so much fun?”
“Because—”
A high-pitched squeal came from the area of the DJ’s table. Tabitha Rawlings had taken control of the microphone.
“Okay, fellow Trojans, it’s time for the class roll call!” Tabitha said.
“What the hell?” London’s brow dipped in disapproval. “There isn’t supposed to be any class roll call. The reunion committee never discussed this.”
“Maybe they discussed it when you weren’t there?”
She gave him the death glare.
Drew held up his hands. “Or, maybe not.”
Tabitha started with the Class Clown, Reginald Brown, who also won Best Personality, Most School Spirit, and Best Dressed. She went through the list, calling out several more “Most Likely To” categories, and then moved on to couples.
“Is she just pulling these out of her ass?” London asked. “They didn’t even take votes.”
“Yes, they did,” Drew said. “I was given a form to fill out when I arrived.”
“You were?” She jerked her head around. “No one told me about any form.”
“It sounds as if the rest of the committee kept it from you. They probably knew you’d be pissed.” He leaned toward her and, in a stage whisper, said, “I voted for you as Most Likely to Succeed, by the way.”
Tabitha called out Most Popular Girl and Guy, then corrected herself, changing it to persons out of respect for the nonbinary members of their graduating class.
“We originally had two members of the class of 2007 who were voted Most Likely to Succeed,” Tabitha said. She clapped her hands together. “And wouldn’t you know, those same two people are once again in a tie! Come on up, Drew and London!”
“This is pathetic,” London groused.
“Where’s your school spirit?” Drew tipped his head toward the center of the room. “Your fellow classmates are waiting for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I should have just gone to work tonight and skipped this reunion altogether.”
But then she pasted on a brilliant smile, took Drew by the hand, and dragged him with her to accept accolades from the rest of their class.
After awarding Reginald Brown with Most Unique, Most Changed, and Best Attitude, Tabitha ended the roll with Best Dancer, which also went to—surprise, surprise—Reginald Brown.
London leaned over and whispered in Drew’s ear, “Reginald must have spent the entire night campaigning.”
“Nah, Reggie’s a good egg,” Drew said. “Although I don’t think he can touch me when it comes to dancing.”
He did a hip thrust, à la Michael Jackson, and London burst out laughing.
“Better watch it there,” she said. “You don’t want to break anything.”
Drew scoffed. “You must not remember me at those school dances. Oh, wait.” He pointed at her. “You didn’t go to any of the school dances because you were too busy studying nonstop so that you could keep up with me in class.”
She flashed him her middle finger.
“Okay, folks!” Tabitha shouted into the microphone. “We all know that Reggie was the best dancer back in high school, but there’s only one way to find out who that title truly belongs to now.” She shot her fist in the air. “Dance-off!”
“Oh, hell no,” London said. She turned, but Drew caught her before she could take a step. She shot him an annoyed look. “I told you already, I am not dancing.”
The entire ballroom broke out in excited cheers when Soulja Boy’s “Crank That” spilled out from the speakers.
“You sure about that?” Drew asked. He spread his arms out like Superman and did three bounce jumps to the right.
London stood in the middle of the dance floor with her arms folded and the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes followed him as he executed dance moves he hadn’t done in fifteen years, pumping his fists and hopping on one leg.
Drew knew the moment he crisscrossed his feet that he’d gone too far.
“Shit!” he hissed as pain shot through his ankle. He hopped around on one leg again, but it had nothing to do with Soulja Boy’s directives.
“What did you do?” London asked. She wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him to a chair just off the dance floor. “See what happens when the over-thirty crowd tries to relive their teenage years?”
“Hey, I was doing okay until that second Superman move.”
She rolled her eyes as she settled in the chair next to his and patted her lap. “Up here, Clark Kent.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Drew Sullivan, let me see your damn ankle.”
“I don’t go around showing skin to just anybody, Ms. Kelley.”
“Dr. Kelley,” she reminded him. “Now, let me see it.”
Drew relinquished his ankle to her, gingerly setting it in her lap. He looked on as she rolled up the hem of his tailored pants and rolled down his sock, exposing his ankle. Using both index fingers and thumbs, she lightly pressed on the joint.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
He studied her profile. “It feels like you know what you’re doing,” Drew murmured.
She looked up at him, their eyes locking. After several moments passed, she said, “I think you’ll be okay.”
She carefully lifted his foot from her lap and slipped from the chair, setting his foot down on the seat she’d just vacated. “Why don’t you sit here for the next three hours, just to be sure?”
He grinned. “Will you come back to check on me?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so. After all, I’m a pediatric surgeon. I wouldn’t want to…how did you describe it? Get in over my head?”
She winked and walked away.