Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and then threw open the door and got out.
    The driver of the car that had hit him was a teenaged boy, who said, "Shit, man! Shit!" as he stared at their fenders. His face was pale and his eyes were wild, and West's anger at being rear-ended diffused at the boy's growing panic.
    "It's okay," West said and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
    "I just got my license!"
    "It's okay," West repeated, and noticed from the corner of his eye that the driver of the car in front of him had gotten out too. "Take a deep breath."
    The boy nodded and inhaled, and the driver behind West said, "Is anybody hurt?"
    "I don't think so," West said, glancing back quickly over his shoulder. "Just upset." He looked at the boy again, who was still breathing deeply and looked less like he was going to vomit. "Do you feel better?"
    "Yeah, man, thank you," the boy said, still inhaling and exhaling like he was about to start meditating. "If I've got an accident on my record already—"
    "You don't," West said and pointed to the bumpers. "See? It's only scratched on mine and it's probably not much worse on yours." He bent to peer at the boy's bumper. The car probably belonged to one of his parents— it was a sedate sedan, dark green, about five years old and wearing the battle scars of shopping carts and careless doors.
    West's car, on the other hand, was the same one he'd been driving since he was eighteen, a yellow '69 VW Bug that had carted him to college in Los Angeles and home again to Seattle now that he was working on his master's degree. As much care as he tried to put into it, oil changes and tire rotations and polishing out scratches, it looked like exactly what it was, the well-used car of a young driver.
    At least the rear fender didn't seem to have anything worse than a new scratch. That left the front fender, and the driver who was now waving to the cars behind them to go around. West went to the front of the Bug and bent to peer at their fenders, and the boy said, "So we're okay? Should I call my Dad?"
    The other driver said to West, "How's your neck?" and West put his hand on the back to carefully feel the bones and soft tissue.
    "I don't think we need to call anybody," he said. "My neck's okay. I'll probably be sore tomorrow but I've got a friend in chiropractor school who likes to practice on me anyway." He straightened up to take a look at the boy— normal color restored, now looking anxious to get on his way— and the other driver, who tilted his head and narrowed his eyes and said, "West?" as West said, "Riley?"
    "Oh, my God," said Riley, laughing, and he hugged West quickly, slapping West's back as he let go. "I thought I recognized Woodstock! How are you? When did you get back to Seattle? I heard you were still living in California or something."
    "I— Riley— I came home after graduation," said West, stunned. "I'm in my second year at Antioch for my master's degree. Riley. Wow. I thought you'd stay in Ohio."
    "Nah, I came home," Riley said easily, looking away a moment. "Found I missed this crazy place. Wow, I know, right? You and me in the same city and didn't even know it."
    "Hey, mister?" said the boy. "If we're okay I need to get to work."
    "Oh," said West, remembering why he'd stopped in the first place. "I'm okay. Riley? Are you?"
    "Yeah," said Riley. "The car's okay and I don't think I got hurt any. Start breaking earlier next time, kid."
    "Okay," said the boy and ran back to his car. He took off at a near-crawl, though he neglected to check the other lane for traffic and caused another car to swerve and honk at him.
    Riley turned back to West with a laugh. "Hey, are you on your way somewhere? We should totally talk."
    "I just got out of class and was on my way home," said West. "Do you want to get coffee somewhere?"
    "Let's get coffee," said Riley. "Gosh, where can you get coffee in this town?" He grinned, dimples showing and the same mischief in his dark, lively eyes, and West sighed inwardly. For years he'd been telling himself he was over Riley Cooper, and all it took was five minutes and he knew he wasn't, not one bit.
    ****
    There was a coffee shop that West particularly liked only a block away, so West gave Riley directions and they agreed to meet in a few minutes. West arrived first, not at all to his surprise, placed his order and took a table near the front windows so Riley would find him easily. He was grateful for the lull, really, since it gave him