Meg was always an early riser, and even though she'd stayed up late the night before, she still woke as the sun began to peek through the blinds. She got out of bed to get a glass of water and check her phone. She had put on a t-shirt and panties last night (she didn't like sleeping completely naked), but her legs were bare, so she put on a hotel bathrobe as well to combat the chill from the too-efficient air conditioning.
Luke was sound asleep, one arm flung out to the side, his lips parted.
Meg sat in an armchair and pulled out her phone. She was surprised to have a message from Alex on Facebook.
"Hey, I realized I still had you blocked from when we broke up. Anyway, I've unblocked you. It was good to see you. I'd like to catch up over drinks sometime if you're up for it."
Meg opened his Facebook profile, which she hadn't been able to do in years. There weren't many posts to catch up on, and more often than not, other people were posting on his page, sharing a photo of him or wishing him a happy birthday. There were photos of him playing drums with two other young men on guitar and bass. There were photos of him hanging with a group of friends, some of which Meg recognized from high school. There were photos of him with girls, too, but those seemed to end at least 6 months ago.
As Meg scrolled through the years, she found pictures of them.
The first was a photo of the last dance they had attended together, Homecoming. Meg wore a navy blue dress. The picture cut off at the knees, but she guessed she wore heels, because she stood as tall as Alex. Normally, Alex was an inch or two taller than her. Alex looked incredibly awkward, posing in front of the fireplace, with a tight-lipped smile as he looked into the camera. He wore a bright white collared shirt and maroon tie.
Further past was the photo from the spring fling they went to together. She wore a white dress with yellow, teal and blue polka dots. In the photo, Meg looked at the camera, but Alex was looking at her. He wore a black and gray striped button-down shirt. His hair was past his shoulders, but it was brushed neatly, not scraggly like it was on a normal day. She remembered when she'd first stepped onto the dance floor, feeling so stiff and awkward.
She'd said, "I'm not a good dancer."