Twenty-One
twenty-one
BACK TO DECEMBER - TAYLOR SWIFT
CALLIE - JUNE 5, 2013
T he familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as I step into Brooked & Brewed, the cozy warmth offering a small reprieve from the emotional chaos of the weekend. The rhythmic hum of the espresso machine and the quiet clink of cups ground me. For a moment, I can almost forget the mess that is my life.
I’m wiping down the counter for the third time when the door chimes. I glance up, expecting a regular, but instead, I see Matt.
My stomach flips.
There he stands, the same blue eyes, the same crooked grin, like no time has passed at all. He's dressed casually in a green Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, looking older but still somehow exactly the same.
"Callie?" His voice is a wave of familiarity, one that crashes into me, stirring memories I thought I’d buried. Sneaking around. Stolen kisses. The way it all ended .
"I... Matt. Hey." My heart races, and I can’t tell if it’s from excitement or fear, or some twisted mix of both.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, leaning casually against the counter as if we’re picking up where we left off. His gaze brings with it a flood of memories I’ve tried hard to leave behind.
The past is right here in front of me. But I’m not that girl anymore.
Matt had all of my firsts. Every single one.
“I’ve been… okay,” I lie, trying to sound steady. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, it really has.” He glances around the shop, then back at me, his gaze warm but unsettling. “You look good, Callie. Happy, even. Heard you got married. And kids?”
I force a laugh that feels too hollow. “Married and divorced. I have a little girl. Sara. She just turned one. And, uh… I’m pregnant with my second.”
His eyes widen, and for a moment, I think I see something flicker in his gaze—surprise? Regret? He’s silent for just a beat too long, and I shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.
“Wow. That’s… a lot,” he finally says, and I can tell he’s scrambling to find the right words. “But you look happy.”
I give a half-hearted nod, knowing that "happy" is a stretch. “Yeah, I’m managing. Moving into my own place this week.”
It feels like an out-of-body experience, talking to him after all this time. Memories of my mom’s harsh lectures and the shame of losing my virginity so young flood back. It’s like I’m being pulled into a past I worked so hard to bury.
Matt’s gaze softens, and for a moment, it feels like we’re both standing at the edge of something we used to know but can’t quite grasp anymore. “So, are you… seeing anyone?” His vo ice is casual, but the question hangs between us, heavy with the weight of what-ifs.
“I’m figuring things out,” I say, thinking of Owen. God, why am I thinking about Owen right now? We’re just friends.
Matt chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. “Well, it’s good to see you, Callie. Maybe we can catch up properly sometime?”
The invitation lingers, and I hesitate. Seeing him has stirred up things I wasn’t ready to feel again. But those days are long gone. I’m not that girl anymore.
“Maybe,” I reply, not committing to anything.
He leans in for a hug, and I freeze for a second, unsure of how to feel. His scent—clean, grown-up, a far cry from the Axe body spray he used to wear—fills my lungs as his arms wrap around me. For a moment, it feels like old times, a brief flash of nostalgia that makes my heart clench. But as quickly as it happens, it’s over, and he’s pulling away, flashing that same playful grin that used to make me melt.
“I’ll see you around, pretty girl,” he says with a wink, before walking out the door, leaving me standing there like a ghost of my former self. That old nickname hits me harder than I would have expected.
As the door swings shut behind him, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Everything feels too loud—the hiss of the espresso machine, the chatter of customers—and I can’t shake the feeling that the ground has shifted beneath me. Memories and emotions crash over me in waves, and I find myself gripping the counter for stability.
I turn back to the task at hand, wiping down the counter with more force than necessary, trying to push it all down. But I can’t. Seeing Matt again has stirred something in me, something I thought I’d buried long ago. The ache of missed opportunities, the question of what could have been if things had gone differently .
The door chimes again, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the present. I can’t live in the past. Not anymore.