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He wore glasses that were much too large for his face and seemingly lived in faded plaid button-down shirts and khaki pants. Despite the taunts and jokes thrown his way, he never seemed very bothered by it which was admirable.
As I looked upon his photo now, it seemed Gregory had cleaned himself up well. His glasses were much smaller and more modern, complementing his face. He had tamed his hair down to short, slick black waves. His skin was clear and a crisp white dress shirt and black suit jacket replaced the old plaid shirt. In addition, he had gained some weight over the years, making him more husky than lanky. His brown eyes gleamed in the photo. He had developed into quite a handsome man.
Out of curiosity I typed Gregory's name into the search engine. To my astonishment I discovered that he was well sought-after pianist, currently working a music professor at the state university located in the city and a member of the city's orchestra. A sense of gladness welled up in me. I smiled at his photo. I felt proud of him. He always seemed like such a kind and gentle guy despite the hell he must have endured in high school. Finally, he was vindicated; he could have the last laugh.
Although I was almost certain Gregory would not remember me, I made plans to attend his performance the following Friday night. My love for classical music further sealed the deal. It was perfect.
Now here it was, the night of, and I was minutes from the wine lounge. I was a nervous wreck. Step three for me was arriving to the lounge without having a full-blown panic attack. My heart raced. I had never been to this place. My mind frantically wondered, How many people will be there? Am I overdressed? Underdressed? Will anyone recognize me?
I engaged in slow, deep breaths and tapped my steering wheel anxiously as I caught every red light on every block leading to the lounge. I looked at the clock in my car. 6:58. Shit. At last I saw the glowing blue fluorescent light above the lounge's entrance, giving away its name, and knew I had arrived.
I pulled around to the next block and parked. I gathered my purse, my hands trembling, as I looked to the passenger seat where I had tossed a gray blazer to wear just in case I was feeling cold...or too exposed. After a moment of contemplation, I snatched up the blazer and pulled it over my shoulders.
As I exited the car, I felt my skirt clinging to the back of my thighs. I noticed it had also hiked up my legs a couple of inches. My eyes darted all around, making sure no one was watching, before adjusting and smoothing my skirt back down. As I pulled at the material, I felt a dewiness on my skin, especially on the back of my thighs and my inner thighs. The anxiety must have caused my body heat to increase.
I began the walk up the block to the lounge, my black heels clicking loudly on the wet asphalt and echoing on the surrounding brick buildings. For a moment I couldn't shake the slight feeling of gawkiness. I clutched my blazer tight and held my purse close to my body. My body swayed slightly from the heels. I felt as if I could twist my ankle at any moment. I should have practiced walking in these more, I thought to myself. It had been years since I had worn these heels but they seemed to complete the outfit.
The wine lounge was small, tucked away between a bustling Italian restaurant and a more modern coffee shop.