Some Things Are Meant to Be
Copyright© 2009 by HLD
Chapter 9: Epilogue
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 9: Epilogue - Who was that one girl everyone in your high school was in love with? What would you do if you ran into her a lifetime later? This is the first of a two-part story that concludes with "I Want To Be In Love".
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Interracial White Male Oriental Female
"Hey, Kevin! Kevin Westcott!"
My head shot around at the sound of the voice. A man was sitting at a table outside of TGI Friday's and waving. As soon as I recognised him, my face broke into a wide smile. I hopped off the moving walkway, trying not to spill the bottle of water I held in one hand and the triple-mocha de-caff latte in the other.
He stood and held out his arms. I gave the slightly pudgy and balding man a warm, brotherly hug.
"Well, I'll be damned!" I exclaimed. "Darren Copeland! How the hell are ya?"
"Look who else is here," he pointed to his companion at the table. I could only laugh.
Save me, Kevin, the look in Melanie's eyes pleaded. Save me or I will kill you.
"Can I buy you a beer?" he asked, motioning to one of the empty chairs at the table. Darren graduated with us. Like Melanie and I, he was one of our gifted-class brethren. I had kept up with him for a couple of years after graduation; like me, he went into computer programming where made a bunch of money in the mid-90s then got a job teaching at Georgia Tech. Last I checked, he was assistant dean in the College of Computing. Although we had spoken a couple of times and exchanged emails with reasonable frequency, I hadn't seen him since graduation, just over nineteen years past.
I half-expected to run into him at our upcoming 20th reunion the next June, but not in an airport somewhere.
"No, thanks," I set my things down on the table. If Melanie couldn't have a drink, she'd never forgive me if I had a beer or two.
"What are you doing here?" Darren asked. He obviously had a couple of lagers in him already.
"I'm on the way to Ft. Lauderdale," I said. "Got a big Caribbean cruise coming up."
"Say, Melanie, aren't you going to Ft. Lauderdale, too?" our friend slurred. Maybe he was too far gone to put two and two together.
Melanie only gave him a half-amused nod.
"Well, here's to you, Kevin," Darren raised his half-empty glass of beer and winked. "The luckiest game designer on the east coast; that contract was mine¸ you know! And to the prettiest girl in the Class of 1991: Melanie Nakamura."
"Westcott," she corrected our drunken companion. Her left hand slipped into mine. Under the sunlight that shone through the windows along the concourse, the diamonds were almost as radiant as my new bride. "It's Melanie Westcott now."