Free Impossibly Love by Shane Morgan

helping at all.
         I decided to
get French Vanilla ice cream and pig out at home while watching movies. That
would distract my thoughts long enough to forget altogether.
         As I turned the
corner to enter the store, I glimpsed someone looking a lot like Branden
leaving the Italian restaurant across the street.
         “Branden,” I
whispered his name, discerning I had to have imagined him. That I wished to see
him so badly, I was hallucinating now. Then I heard his voice, that deep and
comforting voice that shook me on the inside and I knew it was really him.
         Impulsively,
I darted across the street, not caring about the cars that had to press on their
brakes suddenly to avoid hitting me. Good Lord. Before leaving Berlin Heights
for college, I was hell bent on not letting anyone in. Now there I was, almost
getting killed chasing after a guy I was starting to like.
         Finally I
reached him, heading to the parking lot with three other people. I called his
name, “Branden.”
         He turned,
and a sudden spark went off in my chest. Branden’s blue eyes flickered with
delight as he realized it was me. “Moya.”
         I panted,
trying to steady my heart. What did my abrupt gesture mean? I’d spend the last
few days trying to avoid him in school yet being so close to him at the café on
Friday and seeing Branden tonight had me in frenzy.
         The older
version of Branden cleared his throat and the classy woman standing beside him
asked, “Who is this young lady?”
         I scanned
their faces carefully and concluded that it must’ve been his family. Branden’s
dad had a stern, no nonsense look on his face. Observing him, I saw where
Branden got his striking features and admirable height. Unlike his wife, who
had healthy and shiny looking golden blond, Branden’s dad had salt and pepper
like black hair.
         “Oh, sorry,
this is my friend from school, Moya,” Branden introduced. “Moya, this is my
mom, Debbie, my dad Scott, and my brother, Ashton.”
         They each
lifted a hand to shake mine. I was happy they seemed nice, only a little
disappointed Branden referred to me as his friend. It ruined the reason why I
was chasing after him to begin with.
         “It’s nice
to meet you,” I said, focusing on Branden as I asked, “What are you doing here?
I thought you lived in Harrington?”
         He
explained, “Ash is a wide receiver on Jones College football team. He had a
game out here so we came to support him.”
         Ashton
chimed in. “How come I’ve never seen a pretty girl like you before? Branden’s
been keeping you all to himself.”
         I gushed. He
was quite the smooth talker.
         Branden
jabbed a playful elbow in Ashton’s side, his amused chortle a surprising
contrast to the awkward glances of their parents. Their body language seemed
odd, as if they wanted to leave right
away.                                                                                                 
         His mother
touched his arm lightly. “Branden, it’s getting late and your father has to
drive back in the morning.”
         Branden
glanced at them, and then looked at me with a frustrated look on his face. He
didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.
         “I’ll take a
taxi back to the Inn. You guys go on without me.” Yes. That was music to my
ears.
         His parents
exchanged worried stares between each other. Ashton was grinning broadly.
         Then Mr.
McCarthy took his keys out of his pockets and nudged Mrs. McCarthy along,
“Well, I guess it’s alright. We’ll see you back at there.” He nodded in my
direction. “It was nice meeting you, Moya.”
         Mrs.
McCarthy gave me a glance over with suspicion in her pale blue eyes. She said
nothing, turning to stroll off behind her