"Chassie, darling, you look stunning."

I managed a friendly laugh as I'm pulled into another hug – probably wouldn't be the last of the evening. I stopped counting way before Mrs. Wicks approached me. My middle school teacher who earned friendship from my mom for giving me good grades. Or at least that's how I remember it.

"You're looking good yourself, Mrs. Wicks."

"Oh, hush. I'm getting old. I'm in this struggle every middle-aged woman go through." She lets a finger run through her bun. She leans in as if to share a secret. "Minus the hair appointments, the struggle will show on my graying hair."

True, we're not as young as we're used to be. Mrs. Wicks definitely doesn't look exactly the same, and neither do I, for that matter. The glower she gave disobedient students has taken a toll. There are a few lines on her forehead and wrinkles on the sides of her mouth. As if to indicate the change more, she wasn't wearing her impossibly thick glasses. And I don't have my hair in a cute fishtail braid.

"Well, I can't say it is 'getting old.' We're merely growing up," I quipped.

Mrs. Wicks laughed. "Chassie, you'll always be my favorite student."

Somehow, I made it three hours through the party. I am half-surprised that my Ethan was more accustomed to the familiar crowd than I was his age. Although I shouldn't be surprised at all, given that he must've met them during the holidays he spent with my parents and his daddy. My heart wells as I see him joyfully stuck to my mother's side.

I scanned the garden, finding Nathan I'm sure didn't arrive hours ago because I would've spotted him then. Especially when he stood out in his dark suit and a blue tie that stressed the color of his eyes. He was handing a drink to my dad, which he happily accepted with a pat on his arm.

The exchange was so easy and casual. I guess my dad always wanted a son. Although never spoken, or even mentally acknowledged, it shows in the unchanged smiles and looks he had around Nathan. The latter had been mutually engrossed with the bond himself. Dad is as much a father to him as he was a son to my dad. Not to mention his buddies that has given him relief from a tiring day at work.

As if conjured from my thoughts, Vren and Christian Parkinson joined them. The brothers are exactly as I remembered them. Vren, the older between the two had his trademark grin that may have magically dropped heiresses on his lap. He's made fame out of it whereas his younger brother took dating like a detour around town. Christian's playboy lifestyle won him a great deal of bitter exes. I know because I happen to be friends with one of their siblings – one out of the six Parkinsons.

I thought they would rub off on Nathan eventually.

"Chassie George?"

I turn around to the familiar voice, a genuine smile freezing in place. "Mr. Avery."

"Ah. My favorite student."

I gave my English teacher a one-arm hug and let out a delighted laugh. "It's so good to see my favorite teacher."

His hand went over to his chest. He's grown a beard over the years and gray roots start to show. But it didn't undermine the rush of admiration I had looking up to his age-appropriately wrinkled smile. Mr. Avery was the first teacher who gave me grades because I was actually doing good. He's that one blood-unrelated uncle I inherited a fervid writing bug I just couldn't shake.

"I'm touched but no need to lie to your former teacher," he says with a laugh.

"I'm not. You're the first person who got me starting on writing in the first place," I say with ardent effusiveness.

He shakes his head. "You had the talent. I just merely encouraged you to do something with it, Chassie George."

My gut squeezes a little. Had he known (including others) I came on a break for being in a writing rut, my so-called sublime writing won't warrant praise. I couldn't bring to commend myself either.

"I'd like to say I took a part on that."

I turn all the way around to the feminine voice and did a double take. She stood tall, gone were the highlights that used to drive her parents nuts. She has subtler approach on make-up than she had in high school. "Oh, my God. Summer!"

She tugged me into a tight hug. "I was your second favorite student, Mr. Avery."

"Indeed, you are, Summer," Mr. Avery responded lightheartedly before drifting away to join another conversation.

Summer Daniels is one of my three high school best friends – the closest ones I held dearly. Although our contacts has been limited to once a month phone calls or Face Times and weekly text messages, the rapport from our teenage years remained sturdy.

"Nice. You went back to the old hairstyle." She nodded her chin, directing my attention to the waves skimming the fabric of my dress every so often.

"I always had the same hair." I rolled my eyes.

She made a snorting sound. "You're gonna lie to me after all those Face Times?"

"Okay. You got me." I giggled, my eyes rounding when two more familiar faces come into view.

Andrei Parkinson and Francisco Peiro captured me in a trio hug. Summer and I are quite good girl friends but these two made the friendship a delight, although we didn't have to go through the awkward phase of falling for the best guy friend.

We all preferred boys, thank God.

Andrei came out at his sixteenth birthday party while France is a 'common knowledge' having known it at an earlier age.

"You have a lot to make up for." Andrei jabbed a finger at me. "You hurt my feelings when you've gone completely MIA."

I responded with an eye-roll. "I didn't know Face Times don't count."

"You have nothing to make up for. I just missed you so much I could combust." France trapped my cheeks between his palm and presses a kiss on my forehead.

"Are you staying for good?" Summer squeals, her voice rising to an excited octave.

I crinkled my nose. "No. Just for a few weeks."

They all groaned.

"Why do you have to be so good at your job?" She grumbles.

"Well, not really." I hold up a finger, then shoved the words back down before I could picture the disappointing truth settling on their faces. "You three are way better at your jobs."

"Prep schoolteacher is not exactly a dream job," Summer deadpans.

"Oh, you love it. And you two own one of the town's finest restaurants."

France and Andrei exchange glances. "Sydney Williams is a tough competition."

Oh, right.

With the mention of her name, my eyes shifted back to Nathan. Did I mention Nathan snatched the town's first-class chef? It's understandable having to come out from a relationship with someone who have the culinary skill of a toddler. The edible thing I served in the relationship was a mildly burnt sunny side up.

I retrieve my attention to my friends who were giving me unfiltered rundowns on our high school friends. My attention falters a little, not because the news about who divorced whom, who married whom and who got triplets are boring. I just needed a minute to collect my thoughts.

It was overwhelming being back home, drinking cocktails with people I used to know. The amount of wistfulness has taken me aback and I don't know what to do with it. Mercifully, Kathie comes over with Ethan before the urge to slink off to my bedroom flourishes.