Chapter 3
Ellie
Holy crap. It’s him. Matthew Hightower.
I bite the inside of my cheek and silently beg my heart to stop racing before I pass out and land face-first in the loaded mashed potatoes. Although, there are worse ways to go.
Holding my metal tongs tightly in my hand, I take in the man in front of me. Because there’s no doubt the boy I knew is all grown up. My high school crush is here in the flesh. He’s still as beautiful as ever with his big brown eyes, dark hair, high cheekbones, and chiseled jaw. But now he has dark stubble covering his once clear face and colorful tattoos peeking from the neck and arms of his T-shirt.
Matt was always in great shape. He was a star soccer player and hung out with a lot of the jocks from school. But the physique he’s sporting now makes the days of Christmas High look like child’s play.
Yes. Christmas High. Who were the founding fathers that came up with this stuff? You manage to graduate as a Christmas High Comet just to be forced to endure attending North Pole University. The damn mascot is a polar bear. No, thank you. I may not have been able to escape this town, but the upside to not being able to afford to go to college… I didn’t have to suffer that nonsense.
“Hi.” His voice cracks as if he’s parched. Well, it is hot out there. “I’ve heard a lot about Elliot’s cooking. I’m working with my brother and his construction crew, and they sent me to get the works.”
There’s a lot to decipher in that sentence. Yet the main thing that comes to mind:
He has absolutely no idea who I am.
Then again, why should he? If it weren’t for the way he and his friends treated me, I would’ve assumed he didn’t know I was alive back then.
Yet I still can’t help appreciating him in all of his glory. How is it possible that the boy of my teenage dreams is even hotter than he was back in the day? Doesn’t matter. The fantasies I once had for Matthew Hightower turned to nightmares at his callous words. I’m not the shy, self-conscious girl I used to be. I’ve grown up. I’m mature enough to know I don’t need to pine for someone who treats me with disrespect.
And my self-esteem isn’t the only thing that developed. My late growth spurt distributed my curves in a more flattering way. I’m still not the likes of the beauty queen he dated back then, but I’m fine with my appearance. And so are plenty of men who come sniffing around… and not for hot chicken. But I have no one to impress but me. And I’m perfectly happy with the way I look.
Turning to grab a couple of large cartons to pack the food for his order, I take some slow deep breaths to calm down. I’m irritated that I still find him attractive enough to make me so nervous after all of this time.
Come on, Ellie. Don’t you have any pride?