SUMMER CLARK: Yes, I'm excited for my ten year class reunion - I flew all the way from Florida to Wisconsin so I could rub my success in Josh Nelson's face. I know it sounds vindictive, but the jerk ditched me at the Snowball dance, left me to find my own ride home, and never apologized. He's got it coming - if I can get a tow truck to come out in this freak May snowstorm and pull my rental car out of the ditch.
JOSH NELSON: No, I'm not looking forward to the reunion. Just hearing the name Summer Clark brings back memories of a night I buried long ago and never talked about again. Seeing her means skirting the truth while trying to deliver a way-too-late apology. No, with this storm, I think I'll head home - as soon as I help this car sunk in the ditch.
Clearly, there are two sides to every story...
And that's the last I saw of him that night. Not because I left, but because he did. He left me all alone at the dance with no explanation, no goodbye, no ride home, and no kiss. Jenna and her boyfriend Doug took me home, and from that day forward the casual friendship Josh and I had shared before the dance was gone forever. He and Lyssa were back together and I couldn't even look at him in the hall.
After a couple months they broke up for good. My humiliation of being ditched faded with the beginning of senior year, and like I said, I graduated and I forgot. I dated in college. Even got engaged for a few months last year. But none of my relationships worked out because I always ended things before they went too far. In the case of my engagement, the wedding
would've been way too far.
Thinking back on the Snowball formal as I stood in my sunny kitchen with the reunion invitation, I wondered if that night had something to do with my lack of success in the love department. Was that why I always said goodbye first? So I didn't get ditched again? My mouth pulled down in a frown.
Well, if it was, at least I actually said goodbye.
A thick wedge of slush pulled my rental car into the center of the road, jolting me back into the here and now. I struggled with the wheel and tried to discern the gravel shoulder on the right side through the heavy curtain of wet, blowing snow. Headlights cut through the gloom. The sight of a huge black pickup heading straight toward me catapulted my heart up into my throat.
I wrenched the wheel to the right. Slop from the truck's tires slapped onto my windshield. The wipers swished it away, but I barely had time to be thankful I'd made it past the large vehicle before my right tires were sucked in by the mucky shoulder. Cranking the wheel back to the left only dug me deeper as my rental lurched down the embankment and then slid to an abrupt stop. Muddy slush splattered in all directions.
I took a deep breath, assured myself I was unharmed, and leaned my head back against my seat with a low groan. Gotta love Wisconsin. Truthfully, I was envisioning the warm, sandy beach only minutes from my apartment.
A knock on my driver's side window made me jump. Through the fogged glass a tall figure motioned for me to roll down my window and I thumbed the power button.
"Are you okay?" the man asked.
"Um...I think so," I replied.Then I lifted my gaze and sucked in a stunned breath.