The Heirs Second Chance at Forever.

Reunion

[Gabrielle’s POV]

I stare at my reflection, taking in the skimpy black dress that hugs my curves like a glove, but could pop if I so much as moved the wrong way. It was Rachelle's bright idea to squeeze me into this, even though it clearly should be worn by a woman of the night.

“I don't know about this one,” I say, turning to meet the perpetrators proud gaze. “Isn't it a bit too much?”

“No,” she responds matter-of-factly. “If anything, it isn't enough.”

Not enough. Was she out of her damn mind? My breasts were threatening to make an appearance at any moment, as was my ass and p***y. How was this thing not enough?

“Don't look at me like that,” she sighs, snapping me out of my head. “The point,” she continues, moving forward and pushing my long red hair, which is curled to perfection, over my shoulders so that it cascades down my chest. “You were so reserved and always hid your figure back in high school. Think of this as your chance to get back at everyone who mocked you."

“But I never cared what they thought,” I point out.

Back then, there was only one person I cared about, and he liked me as I was. At least, I thought he did. But he was sure to prove me wrong.

“Come on,” Rachelle huffs, her lips twitching into a frown. “Even if you don't care, let me have this moment. I had to watch them bully and mock you all the time!”

“So this is your revenge?" I laugh. “Not mine.”

“What's yours is mine, and what's mine is yours,” she huffs.

“Hanson is going to be jealous,” I smirk, giving myself one last look. “He's the one you're marrying, not me.”

“I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I married you too,” Rachelle giggles, attacking me. “You're such a damn catch. I'm going to be sad when someone takes you from me.”

Me? Rachelle was the one who was the catch. With her five-foot-eight-inch height and slender figure, she looked like a damn model. Even now, dressed in a simple red dress that flows her body like delicate flowers and her curly locks surrounding her beautiful features, she looked like a goddess. I looked like a troll in comparison.

“Not gonna happen,” I assure her. “Should we get going?”

“Yeah. Let's go and turn some heads.”

Later, when we reach our destination, the reunion is in full swing, with members of our graduating class drinking to their heart's content and dancing.

“Drinks first?” I ask as Rachelle slips into a booth.

“Please,” she responds. “Make it strong.”

Nodding, I head to the bar and take a seat, then wait until the bartender's eyes come to rest on me.

“What'll it be gorgeous?” He asks, letting his hooded eyes slowly trail down my body until they come to rest on my chest.

“Two cranberry vodkas,” I respond, giving him a smile. “And maybe your number.”

I had to admit that the man wasn't hard on the eyes, with his tanned face surrounded by soft, dark waves and his dark eyes, he was handsome. And by the way his uniform hugged his frame, it was clear that he took care of himself.

“Coming up,” he grins, turning and beginning to make my drinks.

“Thanks,” I beam, swiveling my seat around so I can examine the bar around me.

“You're pretty bold now, huh?”

Eyes widening, I slowly turn in the direction the voice came from to find the last person I want to see sitting beside me. He is slumped forward, clutching a glass of gin with his large hand, and his blonde hair hides his features, but I would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Surprised?” He continues, sitting up and then turning so he can face me. "Am I that easy to overlook?"

Immediately, I find myself getting lost in the features that I spent so many years memorizing. Even now, he looks the same as I rememver, except older and much, much sexier.

“Cat got your tongue, Gab?” He chuckles, his lips twitching into a smile. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

He smiles bigger, and it lights up his chiseled face making his blue eyes sparkle like the ocean. God, he was so damn handsome now. Not like he wasn't in the past, but he wasn't a boy anymore. No, he was a man.

“Do I know you?” I ask sweetly, getting my bearings again. “I think you've mistaken me for someone else.”

Swiveling around once more, I grab the drinks the bartender is offering me just in time for my escape.

“Thanks,” I announce, getting up and making my way back to the booth where Rachelle waits for me.

“What's wrong?” She asks when I take a seat and down my drink in one swig. “You look like..."

“Hey!” Cursing inwardly, I lift my gaze to Trent as he takes a seat beside me. “Is that how you treat an old friend?”

At his words, I feel so many emotions rush through me, but they quickly come to rest on anger.

“Are we friends?” I respond, feigning confusion. “I don't seem to remember being friends with someone like you.”

As I speak, Rachelle's expression shifts to amusement, while Trent's settles on hurt. Who the f**k was he to actually be hurt when he was the one who ruined everything?

“I think,” Rachelle announces, beginning to scoot out of the booth. “I'll grab more drinks.”

“What?” I gasp, attempting to stop her. “Wait! Hey!”

She doesn't give me the chance to stop her before she is skipping away, leaving Trent and me alone.

Contemplating following her, I slowly turn my gaze back to Trent, who is still watching me with that same look of hurt etched on his handsome face.

“Do you really hate me that much, Gab?” He asks quietly, the hurt on his face silently vocalizing his inner emotions. “You never gave me the chance to explain why I…”

“It doesn't matter,” I say, not wanting to dwell on what happened between us back then. “If that's all you want to do, then I hate to disappoint you.”

I wait as Trent just stares at me, his blue eyes speaking so many things that his mouth isn’t. It seemed that even if he changed on the outside, the inside was still the same, but where he fooled me in the past, he wouldn’t now.

“What happened to you?” He asks, his expression steeling. “I don’t…”

“I’m going to stop you there,” I say, lifting a hand. “As fun as it has been to connect again, there are many others that I should go and say hi to, so I’m going to go see them.”

I don’t wait for a response before I’m getting up and heading toward the bar where Rachelle sits, waiting for our drinks.

“Hey,” I say, grabbing her shoulder so she faces me. “I’m not feeling so great. I’m going to head home first.”

“What?” She gasps, her eyes growing wide. “But…”

As she speaks, I can see Trent still in that booth, looking like a wounded puppy, and I know if I stay here, I’m going to end up caving and wanting to apologize.

“Have fun,” I continue. “I’ll see you later.”