...and gave me a hug. Just a hug. What was he doing? Awkwardly, I hugged him back. Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back and looked at his watch. Now I was totally confused. What was he doing?
“Crap, what time is it? My watch is broken,” he said apologetically. Automatically I looked at the oven.
“7:22,” I replied. He gasped and flew to the door.
“I’m really sorry…I know this is sudden…but I told my girlfriend-Reagan, do you remember her?-I’d meet her at the theatre for the cast list at 7:30…you’re welcome to come, I know you tried out too…”
So that was why he wouldn’t kiss me at the auditions. I faintly remembered seeing the possessive, frizzy blond from my high school days at the auditions, looking miffed while we read. He had always liked her…apparently he had never gotten over her after all, just as I had never gotten over him.
Numbly, I sat down on my couch. No tears, for who could still cry after ten years of heartbreak? Who on earth could possibly still have tears left?