She hates him …
… hates his superiority complex and his bombast and his multiple girlfriends and his overly-gelled hair, hates that he never noticed her at all sitting in the back row all those years when they were in school, mooning over him and doodling his name in her notebook, and hates more than anything the fact that his smile still makes her heart flip into her knees … but today, their tiny plane has been diverted to an even tinier airport, the wind and rain making it too dangerous for the pilot to fly, and they stand together, side-by-side and almost too close, in the closet that passes for a terminal around here, staring out at the churning clouds in the darkened skies and the plane which they will certainly not be boarding again until the morning … they're both wet, and cold, doused by the heavy rain during their run here from the tarmac, and she's shivering, her arms crossed over her thin shirt, so he lends her his coat and she gives him a grateful smile (while he notes that the men around them have the audacity to glare at him, some because he beat them to the offer, others because he's doubtlessly interrupted their view of her lacy black bra under her wet top).
A little later, as a thank you (and a peace offering, in her own mind), she brings him a cup of coffee in a small paper cup, the water so hot and the paper so thin that it burns his fingers, but he smiles and doesn't complain … instead, he asks her where she's headed and he can't help the wide grin that breaks out on his face when he learns they're both travelling home for their school reunion ... he has a mad idea then, an impossible suggestion that she will clearly say no to, the weather outside is horrible and they barely know one another, but she finds herself nodding, intoxicated by his enthusiasm even after all these years, and they race together to the rental-car kiosk, their fingers having become inexplicably entwined, fitting together as seamlessly as their matching, hopeful grins (and her grin especially is hopeful for something so silly and ridiculous that she won't even name it in her own head).
It's a long drive, through night and into the next day on roads cloaked by windy gusts of rain, and between the constant thrumming of the windshield wipers they learn more about each other than they ever did when they were at school … she learns about his passion for astronomy, and his struggles with his doctorate, and how he almost didn't want to come home because there's no family anymore to come home to (and despite all her attempts to the contrary, she squeezes his hand, she couldn't not-care about him if she tried) … and he learns about her father, and her years-long struggle of climbing out of poverty and into a good job (and he tells her he is proud of her and somehow she knows he means it) … it feels different, this time, he feels different than he did before, and it brings a smile to her face …. but days later, at the obligatory dance (after all, what would a reunion be without that torture?), she watches from afar as he's the center of attention once again as soon as he enters the room, just like when they were at school, embraced by a veritable multitude of blondes, and she turns her eyes away to find the coat-check, not noticing his attempts to catch her gaze and to break away from the throng to catch up with her before she can make her way to the exit.