When We Meet Again

“I thought I’d surprise you with my presence and you’d be so happy to see me -you know because you’d enjoyed the concert – that you’d forget all about my silence.”

“Well that plan tanked,” she informed him.

“Yes I see that. What would you say if I said that I needed some time?” he said.

“I would say that sending a text to that effect wouldn’t have killed you,” she replied.

“I’m sorry?” he said with a grimace.

“Sorry doesn’t un-spill the milk,” Meaghan said.

“Can I buy you a new bottle?” Dean asked with a smile.

“Bottle?” she asked wondering if she was drunker than she imagined.

“Of milk,” he clarified.

She almost laughed. Almost. It was a close thing but she managed to convert it into a cough.

“Money doesn’t automatically solve all your problems you know?” she said.

“Oh I know,” Dean said wryly with a grimace. Meaghan suddenly remembered the alleged rift that his family was experiencing.

“How are you by the way? Are you alright?” she asked him in genuine concern. He stared at her startled by the about face.

“What? Me? Yes I’m fine. Are you alright?” he asked in turn.

“Peachy,” she said.

“Wonderful, would you like to get out of here?” he asked.

“I haven’t met U2 yet,” she protested.

“Oh well bad news, Bono has already left; he doesn’t usually stay at these things for long.”

“Damn,” Meaghan said.

“However, if you’d like, I can arrange for you to meet him,” Dean said.

“Oh really?” Meaghan said.

“Really. I’ll put it on my to-do list,” Dean assured her.

“I’m touched,” Meaghan said and she actually was.

“So can we go somewhere maybe? Have a conversation?” Dean asked.

“About?” Meaghan asked crossing her arms in a characteristically defensive gesture.

“About what’s been happening in our lives for the last three weeks, maybe what we want to happen in our lives in the next three weeks?”

“Is there a particular reason why we’re sticking to this particular block of six weeks?” she asked.

“Not really. Just…it’s a place to start.”

“Okay then. However, I came here with someone and I’m not leaving without them. If you want to see me, you can make an appointment or ask me out on a date, same as any other self-respecting man with honorable intentions.”

“I thought I did that. After all I sent you the tickets,” he protested.

“Okay I’ll give you that one,” Meaghan conceded. “However I’m still leaving with Mr. Henley.”

“Can I call you tomorrow then?” he asked.

“You may call me, I don’t guarantee I will answer,” she replied haughtily.

“Don’t be mad baby,” he cajoled.

“I’m not mad. I just don’t like to be played with,” Meaghan said.

Dean put his hand to his heart. “I do solemnly swear, I’m not playing with you.”

Meaghan smiled, “Did you just modify Harry Potter to fit your own aims?”

“The Prisoner of Azkhaban; you caught that. I think that’s what I love about you,” Dean said and then he stopped short eyes wide, realizing what he’d just said.

“And by love I mean like,” he clarified.

Meaghan smiled, “Yeah of course that’s what you meant. I enjoy that about you too.”

“Great. So we have one thing in common, that’s a start isn’t it?”

“It’s a great start. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go find Mr. Henley.”

Dean reached out to snag her hand as she passed. She let him hold it for a moment and then she took her hand back and walked away.