Free A Year to Remember by Shelly Bell Page A

friends for more than ten years. Even though she pretended to like boys, she’d never talked about anyone in particular and never had crushes like the rest of us.
    One night, she and I sat outside on my deck, drinking coffee and smoking a pack of Marlboro Lights we had stolen from her mom’s purse. She had been acting nervous all week, so I knew she had something important to tell me. She blurted out she was a lesbian. I told her I had a feeling and that was the end of the conversation. Nothing changed. She was no different than before she’d confided in me.
    Missy still didn’t talk about her love life much. I knew the basics, like the name of the girls she dated and where they went on their dates, but that was it. She never discussed the specifics. I, on the other hand, held back nothing. Missy knew everything about my relationships. I’d questioned her about it over the years, but she would always blow it off, saying she preferred to keep some things private. Besides, she’d say, there’s nothing to tell.
    Now the first boy I ever loved, the first boy with whom I’d shared my body, stood in the same room as me. He caught me watching him and smiled. He said something to his friends and walked toward me.
    “Wow, he looks good,” Elana said.
    Jamie approached us and gave me a hug. “It’s good to see you. How are you?”
    That’s one of his best qualities. He wouldn’t ask “how are you” if he didn’t want the answer. He really wanted to know.
    “I’m good. You?” I honestly felt like I was back in high school. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, and I had butterflies in my tummy. I bet my palms were sweating, too.
    Darkness crossed over his face. “I’ve seen some better days. My fiancée and I just broke up.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” Okay, that’s not really true, but what should I have said? Good, because now I have another shot at you?
    “It was for the best. We had grown apart over the years, and we realized we wanted different things.”
    “So is tonight your way of moving on?”
    “You remember Don and Ryan. They convinced me to come tonight. I didn’t want to, but you know what? I’m glad I did.”
    We stood there smiling at each other. Part of me wanted to take him and run, so I could keep him all to myself. Then I heard my number being called. It was time to meet my destiny.
    “That’s my number.” Suddenly, I had no desire to meet the ten men waiting for me in the other room. “Do you want to have a drink after we’re both done?”
    “I’ll find you,” he said huskily, hinting at the possibility he, too, would rather skip the speed dating.
    Missy grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away to the connecting room where some of the other registrants were waiting patiently for directions from the organizer of the event. As I walked in, a woman in her mid-forties gave me my card with a list of numbers on it, each one representing one of the men I would meet over the next hour.
    Then she turned to Missy. “What is your number?”
    “I don’t have a number.”
    “Then you have to leave the room. This room is for registrants only.”
    Missy mouthed the word “busted” at me, then laughed her ass off as she started to leave room. When Goldman walked in, she broke out into hysterics.
    Bitch.
    Seriously, out of all the guys that could have been in my round of speed dating, why did it have to be Goldman? I know the computer chose our numbers at random, but honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was following me.
    The organizer, who introduced herself as Ruth, told the women to sit by our respective number and explained each man would move from table to table in six-minute increments.
    Missy and I had prepared questions to help me get to know about my date without having to resort to the usual small talk. Questions like “If you could have dinner with one historical person who would it be and why?” “What is your dream vacation?” “What is the last book