With a few exceptions, romances in Hollywood movies tend to come in one of three varieties: an older man and a woman young enough to be his daughter (often an action hero and the woman who needs rescuing), an older man and a slightly younger woman (this is your typical ‘jaded against romance until they rediscover it in each other’ trope), and the young lovers. Of the three, the last is typically portrayed as the most passionate, most pure, and the truest. These aren’t romances formed by owing a guy after he saved you from nazis, or your last chance at happiness after you gave up on finding love to focus on your career. This is true love, and the obstacles that stand in the way of this pairing are viewed as wicked and wrong (how dare those parents try to keep them apart!).

  Real life doesn’t quite work out that way. Sure, young love feels super passionate and important. All those flowing hormones do a number on your sense of scale and makes your relationship feel like the most important thing in the world. But the numbers don’t really tell a story of these romances being real or lasting. Less than 2% of marriages are to a high school sweetheart. And of that 2%, only half of those marriages will last ten years. Surely if young love was actually true and pure, those numbers would be higher.

  But just because it may not be real love, doesn’t stop it from feeling like real love. As I established, teenage hormones are crazy powerful, and they can make you believe things. And those feelings can be strong enough, that years later simply being reminded of them can cause a whole new flurry of emotions.

  For me, those emotions were, in this general order: surprise, embarrassment, elation, and fear.

  “Kit? Hello?” Victoria enquired.

  Realizing I had been standing there silently for a solid minute, I overcorrected by blurting out without thinking: “Victoria! Hi! How are you? Doing good? You look like you’re doing good. Not that I’m saying you’re looking good. I mean, you are looking good. Not in a weird, flirty way. Justy generally. Like you’re getting enough sleep. But not too much sleep! I’m not implying you’re lazy. Look how thin you are! Not too thin! I’m sure you’re eating well. Not overindulging or anything –“

  “Kit! Take a breath.”

  I shut up and did as she said. Not a moment too soon, as I was beginning to feel dizzy.

  Victoria folded her arms across her chest. “What are even doing here, Kit? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up stalking me.”

  “Stalking! No! I live here! Not here-here, like in this apartment, but in the building. I didn’t even know you were here, I just –“

  She was smirking. “Relax, Kit, I was joking. But seriously, crazy to see you here after all this time.”

  My heart was beating a mile a minute. “Uh – yeah. Crazy. Uhm, I’m the building manager here, now, since like – uh – the start of the month. I was sent here by the landlord to collect rent from someone named Terrance who is supposed to live here, but you’re clearly not Terrance, so …”

  “Oh, Terry? He stepped out, but he’ll be back in a little bit.”

  Was I sweating? I felt like I was sweating. “Oh. Okay. Well, I can come back later. See ya later.”

  I started to walk away, but she grabbed my hand.

  “You can come inside to wait for him,” she insisted. “It will give us a chance to catch up. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other!”

  There were few things I wanted less than to catch up with Victoria, yet I couldn’t help but feel completely helpless in her grasp. Her hand over mine might as well have been a vice-grip. A warm, soft, inviting vice-grip.

  I got dragged into the apartment and into the living room. If I had to give one word to describe the décor of the apartment, it would be: expensive. I’m no expert on furniture, but there was stark difference between the quality of the furnishing in this apartment and the Ikea and thrift shop combination that filled my apartment. It was also very modern, all white and sleek and minimalist. It was like I walked into the display room of an upscale furniture store. And it was a weird contrast to the cheap construction of the apartment building. What was someone who could afford such nice things doing living here?

  I took a seat across from Victoria. She had hardly changed since the last time I had seen her. The same thick faux-turtle shell glasses. The same short-cut red hair. The same freckles that spotted her face under her light green eyes. It was as if no time had passed for her at all since high school.

  Which only made me even more self-conscious. I’d put on weight, my skin had become spotted with acne scars, and the facial hair I had been attempting to grow was still more fuzz than beard. If I had known I was going to run into my ex today, I probably would have shaved, but what were the odds?

  As if she was capable of reading my mind, Victoria asked, “What happened to your face?”

  I flushed. “Oh, you know, a few years passed … and I thought a beard would look good … my old job never let me have one …”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  I touched my face and winced. When I looked at my finger, there was indeed a bit of blood. It seemed Pretty’s claws had dug a bit deeper than I had thought.

  “There was this cat…” I was too embarrassed to even finish the sentence.

  “Hold on, I’ll get some disinfectant.”

  Without waiting for a response, she went down the hall, leaving me alone in the uncomfortably ornate living room.

  I scanned the walls, looking for anything to distract myself from how uneasy I was. My eyes fell on a framed page taken from a newspaper. I did not need to get a closer look to recognize that star logo. That was the front page of our high school newspaper. It quickly brought up memories of the first time I met Victoria.

  It had been near the beginning of my senior year. I’d been eating my lunch on a bench behind the auditorium. I preferred to take my lunch periods where it was quiet and secluded. No one came back there, so I could study without distractions. At the time, I still thought I had a shot of being the class valedictorian, so finding those extra moments to study or work on assignments was more important than socializing. Not that I would have likely been any more social if I had known the best all my efforts would yield was a class ranking of third, missing both valedictorian and salutatorian honors.

  That day, my peaceful study was interrupted when a girl I didn’t know appeared out of nowhere and shoved a camera in my hands.

  “Hey, you there, quiet guy! Follow me!” she demanded.

  “What? No! I’m busy!” I protested.

  “You don’t look busy,” she retorted. “Besides, this is important. Come on!”

  With that she rushed towards the auditorium. I looked incredulously down at the camera. Who was this girl to make demands of me? But I had always been a pushover, and at this point I still believed in the value of selflessly helping others. So, I set my books and half-eaten lunch aside and followed her.

  I found her at the auditorium’s back door, attempting to pick the lock. Quite successfully, too, as by the time I registered what she was doing the door had already been opened.

  “This way,” she said, gesturing to the open door.

  I’d never been in trouble a day in my life, so jumping right to breaking and entering was a bit much for me. “Are you crazy? What if we get caught? We can be expelled!”

  “Only if we get caught before I find the proof for my story,” she countered. Then, with no further explanation, she dashed inside.

  I briefly considered tossing the camera down, running away, and pretending I hadn’t seen anything. But the bigger part of me still wanted to be helpful. And I’ll admit, I was kind of curious to see where this was going. I followed her inside, breaking a major rule for the first time in my life.

  The lights were off, so we were bumbling around in the dark as we made our way through the backrooms of the auditorium. I smacked my knee on a concealed table and let out a string of swear words.

  “You got quite the vocabulary there,” the girl said. “Wasn’t sure you could talk much at all, quiet guy.”

  I rubbed my sore knee. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “Well, I don’t know your name. I’ve seen you around a lot, usually by yourself and being silent. ‘Quiet guy’ seemed a good enough monicker.”

  Seen me around? I didn’t think anyone was paying any attention to me. I wasn’t convinced half of my teachers knew who I was.

  “What should I call you, then?” I asked. “Loud girl?”

  “That works,” she replied. “Or Victoria. Whatever is easier.”

  “Well, ‘Kit’ might be easier to call me than ‘quiet guy.’”

  “Okay, Kit. If I’m right, what we’re looking for should be right around here.” She made a gesture to the area behind the stage.

  When we got there, she took out of flashlight and started to look around. She found little paper tags on the wall, got excited, pulled out a notepad from her pocket, and started to scribble something.

  “Hey, Kit, come here. Take a picture of this. Front and back, and a full shot of the wall. And me in front of it. Keep everything in frame. Hold on, let me angle the light so it’s clear.”

  “Uh – yeah, alright.” I was no expert photographer, but I followed her instructions, and I think I ended up doing an okay job. “What exactly is this that I’m taking pictures of?”

  “Fire inspection tags.” She was grinning widely. “Super expired ones. I happened to catch wind that the fire marshals were poking around, concerned that they didn’t have any record of proper inspections being done on some of the older buildings in some time. The administration assured them that they had been done. Now I’ve got proof that not only has the administration been lying, they have been putting their students at risk by having them in buildings that haven’t been inspected in years! This is going to be the biggest story our school’s newspaper has ever had!”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “School newspaper?” I repeated, everything finally clicking into place for me. “Hold on a second! If you put out a story calling out the administration like that, you’re putting yourself at big risk.”

  “Oh, I know it. Won’t be the first time they’ve targeted me with bullshit suspensions and threats of expelling me for my reporting. Last year I got two weeks for proving the chlorine solution they used in the pool was being sourced from a chemical recycler that was mixing it with chemicals that were harmful to the skin. A lot of the swim team were getting rashes from the exposure.”

  “I kind of remember that. Well, I remember the pool being closed for like a month for a deep cleaning and the fuss that was made about it. I’m surprised you want to go up against them again.”

  She gave me a serious look. “Well, this time I can say my photographer pressured me into it.”

  “What?” I started to panic looking at the camera in my hands. “I didn’t – you can’t just – I was only –“

  Victoria chuckled. “Relax, I’m kidding. You’re pretty tightly wound, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t even credit you if you don’t want it. As for me, I’m not too concerned about it. Can’t make a name for yourself as a journalist if you are afraid of pissing off the people you’re reporting on.”

  I was pretty impressed by her, not only by her commitment to her beliefs, but that she was passionate enough about something that she was willing to put herself out there like that. I didn’t know if I was ever that passionate about anything before.

  A door opened behind us. “Hello? Who’s in here?”

  “Shoot!” Victoria whispered as she fumbled to turn off her flashlight. “If they catch us here and take the camera, I lose all my proof. Quick, over here!”

  We retreated from the backstage area but found the path to the backdoor blocked by the approaching teacher. Victoria grabbed me and shoved me into a storage closet before slipping inside herself and shutting the door.

  She put her fingers to her lips and shushed me. My heart was racing as we heard the footsteps of the teacher approaching. I don’t know how much of that was fear of getting caught, and how much was the tightness of the space we were in.

  Her body was pressed up against mine. As a teenager, I had enough trouble controlling certain bodily functions in the best of situations, much less a scenario like this. I tried to shift away from her, but only succeeded in rubbing against her and making the situation worse.

  Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice. Or at least pretended not to. “Think he’s gone?”

  The teacher’s voice was not far from where we were hiding. “I know you’re in there. Might as well come out.”

  “Damn,” Victoria muttered. “Sorry, Kit. Looks like I really screwed this one up.”

  I thought I recognized the voice of the teacher. Mr. Mathers, an English teacher I was on good terms with. Perhaps there was a way out of this yet.

  “Wait here,” I whispered to Victoria as I handed the camera to her.

  With some difficulty, I cracked open the door and squeezed out of the closet. I hoped the darkness would obscure Victoria behind me in that brief moment before I could reclose the door.

  “It’s just me, Mr. Mathers,” I called out.

  The English teacher looked surprised. “Kit? What are you doing in here? It isn’t like you to sneak around in places you’re not supposed to be.”

  I gulped. I wasn’t used to lying to figures of authority. My only hope was that my reputation as a stellar, well-behaved student lent a little credibility to the story I was about to tell.

  “The backdoor was unlocked,” I said, somehow managing to avoid stuttering my words. “I heard what sounded like a crashing noise inside, so I went inside because I was afraid someone might have been hurt.”

  “A crashing noise?” Mr. Mathers repeated. “I see. And what were you doing in that closet?”

  “Someone shoved me in there. It’s dark so I didn’t get a good look at them, but it looked like a bigger guy. I got tangled up in the mess back there and it took me a few minutes to free myself.”

  “Did you see which way they went?”

  “Not really, but it sounded like they were making their way towards the stage.”

  Mr. Mathers sighed. “I’ll take care of this. You should get going, lunch is almost over. I’ll overlook this one time, but you should know better. In the future if you think you hear something, call a member of staff to investigate. You can get in a lot of trouble being back here, even if your intentions were good.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  He nodded and continued on towards the stage area. I exhaled hard, both relieved and surprised that my lie had worked. There was a bit of guilt, too, for lying to a teacher who had always been so nice to me.

  But that faded quickly when Victoria stepped out of the closet and smiled at me. “That was pretty slick. Who knew you were such a smooth talker?”

  “I’m not really. I just traded on my reputation for honesty. Now let’s get out of here before he comes back and I lose all that.”

  We made it out of the auditorium just as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the start of the next class period.

  “Guess that’s our sign to make haste,” Victoria said. “Thanks for your help today, Kit. I promise not to pull you into any more danger in the future.”

  For some reason, I felt my heart sink. I thought I might kind of like it if she asked for my help again. It was exciting. Or maybe I just wanted to spend more time with her.

  “You know, I could use some more extracurriculars for my college applications,” I said, digging for an excuse. “And this was – it was interesting. You think the paper could use another hand?”

  She smirked. “I could always use more help. I’m managing both the paper and the yearbook, and neither club is exactly swimming in volunteers. Tell ya what – how’d you like to be my assistant? I’ll make you the number two in both clubs, that’s got to look good on those applications. But I’m going to work you hard.”

  I was pretty ecstatic by the offer. “Sounds good. I’m not afraid of a bit of hard work.” Back then, that was the truth.

  And that’s how I came to work alongside Victoria. We got close, spending a lot of time both in and out of school together, first only on club work, and then as friends. She surprised me a few months later by asking me out on a date. I’m glad she did, because I never would have built up the courage.

  We dated for the rest of the school year and had a lot of fun together. I still look back on many of those memories fondly – however disastrously it might have ended.

  I heard Victoria returning from the hall, snapping me out of my memories. She was carrying a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth.

  “Hold still,” she said as she learned over me.

  I did my best to pretend to be manly and not react as she applied the disinfectant to my face, but damn did it sting, and I probably let a couple of grunts escape.

  “There,” she said once she had finished torturing me. “It would have been a shame if that handsome face of yours got an infection.”

  I felt myself go red. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She retook the seat across from me. I had no idea what to say to her.

  What was she even doing here? I might have been fairly oblivious to my neighbors, but I can’t imagine I would have missed my ex living here this entire time. The school newspaper on the wall suggested she was more than just a houseguest, though. Could Terrance be a relative? Or perhaps another of our schoolmates? I didn’t remember anyone named Terrance working with the newspaper, but Victoria had been a part of the club for years, while I had only joined senior year.

  And now that she was here, how was I supposed to act? Should I pretend to be super excited to see her? Would it be weird if I said I missed her? Or would it be weirder if I pretended like I never thought about her? Should our conversation be focused on the old clubs and our time at school together, or should we be reminiscing about our relationship? I had no idea what the protocols were for this kind of situation.

  And another consideration –

  “Kit!” Victoria exclaimed. “You’re doing that thing again where you sit there, stuck in your internal monologue, overthinking things.”

  “What?” I was startled. “I don’t do that?”

  Did I do that? Come to think of it, I had spent a lot of time since I got here thinking about the past, and worrying about what the right thing to say was. I don’t know if I would call myself an ‘overthinker’ exactly, but I did believe some caution was called for before speaking –

  “Kit!”

  “Sorry!” I tried to force myself into the moment. “I just – I’m not really sure what to say. This is all unexpected.”

  “Well, you can start with what’s on your mind,” she replied.

  I scratched at my beard fuzz. “I guess … I guess the first thing I’m wondering is – what are you doing here? Not that it’s not great to see you! But I don’t think I’ve seen you around the building before.”

  “Oh. I’ve been here a couple times, but we’ve probably missed each other since I’m never here for long,” she explained. “I come here to visit Terry. This is his apartment. He’s my fiancé.”

  That last word hit me like a ton of bricks. I had, perhaps subconsciously, avoided the possibility that Terrance might be her boyfriend when trying to rationalize how they were connected. But fiancé? That was a lot to process.

  “Congratulations,” I managed to say. “Who would have guessed your fiancé would live in the same apartment building as me, huh? Small world.”

  “It is crazy,” she agreed. “He only moved out here a year ago to chase an opportunity with an investment firm. I’m still back at home, but we’re hoping to find a place together out here soon.”

  “I see. I guess that means you got over your aversion to long distance relationships,” I said, more bitterly than I had intended to.

  “Kit …” She looked away from me.

  Guilt hit me hard. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  “No, it’s alright. It’s been hard. We had a pretty big fight about it when he told me about the job. He wanted me to follow him, but I’ve got my job at the Gazette that I didn’t want to give up. But the opportunity was too big. Just a couple of years and he could save enough money to buy us a house. And once I get a little more experience on my resume, I should be able to find a job at one of the news outlets out here.”

  I eagerly jumped at the chance to change to a less tenuous topic. “The Gazette, huh? I’m glad to see you’ve managed to follow your dream to break into journalism. You bringing the same hard hitting reporting you brought to the school newspaper to the real world?”

  She smiled weakly. “Not really. Turns out, in the real world, trying to expose corruption and do stories make those in power look bad makes the editors and their bosses nervous. After having a bunch of my pieces rejected, and the threat of being fired looming over my head, I eventually learned to play ball. Now it’s mostly puff pieces for me.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  Victoria shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. We don’t all get to hold onto the ideals we had in high school.”

  It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had lost motivation under the weights of disappointment and struggle. But it felt more tragic when it happened to someone like Victoria. She was so talented, and passionate. The kind of person you imagine when you think of someone with the potential to change the world. If even she couldn’t do it, what chance did any of the rest of us have?

  “How about you?” she asked. “I know you were still kind of wishy-washy as to what you wanted to do with yourself after college, but I never imagined you would settle on property management.”

  “It’s just the one building. And it’s less a career, and more … an arrangement. I’m currently – uh – between projects.” For the first time since I had made the decision, I felt too embarrassed to admit I had given up.

  “What kind of projects?” she asked.

  I was saved from having to figure out how to answer that question when the door opened. In walked a tall man, a few years older than me and remarkably handsome. He had dark black hair which he slicked to the side, a stylish blue business suit, and rugged jawline. Somehow, he looked both ‘smart and professional’ and ‘tough and manly’ at the same time.

  “Welcome back, Terry,” Victoria said as she got up to embrace him. “You’ll never guess who turns out to be the manager for this building. It’s Kit! You know, the guy I told you about from high school.”

  “No kidding.” He gave me a bright white smile and reached a hand out to me. “Put ‘er there, friend.”

  I took his hand to shake it, but he pulled me into a hug. His arms around me were so strong that I think my back cracked.

  “It’s so great to finally meet you,” he said after finally letting me go. “Victoria’s told me a lot about you.”

  “She has?”

  “Oh, yeah. You two were apparently quite the power couple back in high school. I love to hear the stories of the two of you getting to the bottom of mysteries for the paper. Like Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boy. If I’d known the same Kit was living in the building, I’d have introduced myself a lot sooner.”

  A friendly, outspoken guy who could match Victoria’s energy. No wonder the two of them made a good couple. Certainly a better fit for her than the quiet guy.

  I was suddenly feeling very awkward – well, more awkward – and wanted to make my exit as soon as possible. “Actually, I just stopped by to collect the rent. Derek says he hasn’t received it yet.”

  “Oh, that’s my bad. I paid him for a year upfront, forgot that it ran out this month. Give me a minute, I’ll go get my checkbook.”

  He went into the back, leaving me alone with Victoria once more.

  “You should get to know him,” Victoria said. “You guys have a lot in common.”

  I doubted it. “You’ve told him a lot of stories about me, huh?”

  “Well, about us, the stuff we got into. We had some real adventures back in high school. Do you remember when we were inspecting the Driver’s Ed vehicles? I nearly went through the windshield when those brakes failed!”

  There was a different story I was much more interested in. “Did you tell him about the … the prom incident?”

  Her smile faded. “No. That’s not really my story to tell. I’m guessing you’re still a bit sore about it?”

  “I was humiliated.”

  “I understand. But it’s been years. At some point, you got to look back on it and laugh. Sharing the story with someone might help.”

  I didn’t respond.

  Terrance returned, check in hand. “Here you go, friend. Let Derek know I’m sorry it’s late. Hey, if you’re not in a rush, it’s chili night. I make a mean bowl of chili. Not too spicy – Victoria doesn’t like it that spicy – but I got some killer hot sauce for you to mix with it if you’re a spice guy.”

  “Sorry, rain check. I got a bunch of other building manager duties that need to get done,” I lied. “And Derek wants these checks right away. You know how impatient landlords can be.”

  I started to walk towards the door, and Victoria saw me out.

  “It really is good to see you again,” she said. “I hope we’ll have a chance to catch up more properly soon.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  That was also a lie.