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pretty likely he wouldn’t, she looked so different. And with all the noise and people in here, what was one short woman leaving? Nothing, that’s what.
    She paid her check, left too big a tip on principle, and prepared for a quick getaway. She dodged, ducked, and sidestepped dancers, laughing couples, and a stumbling drunk. She sidled around the jukebox that was currently playing “Africa” by Toto at full volume. It seemed like a weird choice, and you couldn’t hear much of it anyway over the general din. Taylor knew all the lyrics, though. She had a fondness for bizarre eighties ballads and had to stop herself from doing an awkward little dance. This wasn’t her apartment, where no one could see her.
    Taylor glanced briefly at the small round table Anton was standing by, drink still in hand. He was listening to two other men as they told some story, laughing loudly, beer bottles clanking together. He wasn’t adding much to whatever they were talking about, just watching them, then those piercing eyes darted around the room. She turned her face away just as they were about to find hers.
    She grasped the door handle. Everything felt weird, slightly askew. Had he seen her? She opened the door and left quickly, breathing heavily as she moved away from the door, making little puffs in the cold night air. She was holding her bag too tight, feeling like she was strangling. She took some more deep breaths, steadied herself. The fall air cooled her cheeks. She ran her fingers through her hair, felt the hot skin on her face. But she’d gotten away.
    The gravel under her feet was reassuringly bumpy, and she took three steps before she heard the bar door open behind her and the sudden sound of loud laughter, music, and glasses clinking that came with it. Then it was shut again, quiet.
    Until a familiar, deep voice, one she’d never thought she’d hear again, said her name.
    “Taylor? Taylor Harlow?” It sent chills up her spine, made the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stand up, the way he said it. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she could make herself disappear.
    Then she turned around and looked him straight in the eyes with a small, utterly fake smile on her lips. “Hi, Anton.”
    They stood across from each other in awkward silence for at least a minute, simply looking at each other with a mixture of shock and wariness.
    Taylor noticed the way the light from behind him made Anton look taller than she remembered, broader in the shoulders and chest, too. He wasn’t the slightly slim youth she’d known; he was a man now. Strong and well muscled and striking. He’d gotten better looking with age, which seemed unfair. She was trying to decide how she felt, other than confused. This was the one thing she hadn’t expected when she came back to Sweethollow and it was the one thing she’d wanted, more than anything, to avoid.
    Except now that he was there, breathing and beautiful, she wondered if maybe she hadn’t wanted this all along.

***
    For his part, Anton was in complete shock. Not just because Taylor was the last person he’d expected to see in The Horned Owl that night, but because he’d recognized her at all. She looked incredibly different. Gone was the gawky girl, the braces and the fuzzily, endearingly, bad hair. The person who stood before him was a stylish young woman, curved and confident, with soft auburn hair and the kind of figure men dreamt about. He shouldn’t have been able to tell who she was, but something about the tilt of her head and the look in those big dark eyes and he’d just…known. Like some kind of extra sense.
    “Hi, Anton. Good to see you. Although, I have to be honest, I’m sort of surprised to. I never thought you’d stick around Sweethollow,” Taylor said. Her voice was soft, a touch deeper than when they’d been in school together. Anton could tell the smile wasn’t really real. It didn’t reach those hypnotizing eyes. They were so dark, he couldn’t