She was a kid when we met. Sixteen of seventeen tops, but I knew she would be a real knockout when she got older. We hung out a bit, but I fucked it up when I refused to be her first, which is why three years later when she called I nearly dropped the phone.
"Chris?" the voice breathed into the phone, "its Steph. Stephanie King..." the voice trailed off.
I knew exactly who it was, without her telling me. "Yeah hey...long time no talk huh?" I replied the best I could. Needless to say I was at a loss for words. She started with small talk, the way everyone does when they want something from you.
"I was wondering if you were busy Saturday night. I think we should talk," she asked. "It's been so long and... well I guess I've been thinking about you a lot lately."
My heart was skipping beats at a time. She thought about me? The way we parted was messy and I hardly acted like a gentleman. I was twenty when we dated and I supposed the age difference freaked me out. She deserved better.
"Sure. Saturday is fine with me," I answered. We set the time and place and said our goodbyes. The thought of her plagued me all day. A call from an ex out of the blue would frazzle anyone I suppose, but a date?
Friday night I sat in my apartment watching TV. I couldn't stop thinking about her and my anxiety for the next night's date was tearing me apart. I poured myself a drink, changed out of my suit and flopped on the couch. Visions of Stephanie crept into my head with each sip of my drink. I wondered what she looked like three years later.