"I can't believe you're home!"

I hugged my mom for the fortieth time that day and feigned happiness. I'd been home for thirty-six hours, and still, she felt compelled to hug me at every opportunity.

"I can't believe my baby's a doctor!"

"Mom, you're gonna suffocate her."

I smiled gratefully at my brother Fulton as he came into the kitchen and disentangled mom from around me.

"Behave," I told her and she smiled.

I took a deep breath and sighed, happy to be home. I never thought I'd miss Minnesota while away in California, but I did. And I didn't realize just how much I'd missed it until I was back, standing in the same place I stood so many times before.

"Feel good to be back?" Fulton asked, peeling a banana, watching me carefully.

I nodded. "I didn't think it'd feel this good."

He smiled and threw the skin into the trash. "You coming tonight?"

Ah yes, the semi-reunion of the Ducks. Did I mention them? I don't think I did. Anyway, the Ducks are the hockey team Fulton joined when he was a kid, a tight-knit group of people who are essentially best friends. They're my friends too, I guess, but it seems so weird to call them that when I haven't seen them in so long.

The real reason I was worried was because he'd be there. Yeah, the boy. And I was so nervous about seeing him again. It's been so long, has anything changed?

"Hello, Earth to Kota."

I frowned and snapped back to where Fulton was waving his hand in front of my face. "What?" I demanded, swatting his hand away.

"You spaced."

I shrugged. "I've got a bit on my mind."

"Would it have to do with a certain boy..."

I blushed and threw an orange at Fulton, which he caught easily. "Don't you have somewhere else to be," I muttered.

He grinned. "Practice doesn't start for a few weeks. So I'm free to hopelessly annoy you."

Great.

"What time do we have to be at Connie's tonight?" I asked him, hoping the change in subject would fend off the teasing tirade Fulton had up his sleeve.

"6:30."

I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. 3:19. Plenty of time before I had to start panicking, but for some reason, I was already freaking out.

Was I that scared of seeing him again? Yes, I was.

"I'm gonna go unpack some more of my stuff."

I excused myself from the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my room, which was bright and sunny, and perfectly clean, thanks to mom.

I looked around the room and smiled. I loved how it hadn't changed. I loved how mom and dad didn't let Fulton turn it into a sports memorabilia room. I loved how the buttery yellow walls looked freshly painted and I loved how the light blue curtains hung easily at the window.

I took a deep breath and opened the suitcase on my bed and began to pull things from it, all of my keepsakes I'd taken to Stanford four years ago.

I pulled out a framed picture of my family, mom, dad, Fulton and I on our graduation day from Eden Hall.

"That was so long ago..." I mumbled to myself, and I set the frame down on my desk.

Next was a pile of t-shirts that I shoved into my dresser. As I approached my case, my eye caught something and I inhaled.

I reached down and my fingers closed around the smooth, plastic shape of a hockey puck. Now, you all think it's just a hockey puck, what makes it so special? It's special because the boy gave it to me, the puck from the very first game of hockey he ever played. And believe me, that's a big deal, because his love of the game is so intense, no one thought he'd ever get rid of his first game puck.

But he did, and he gave it to me.

Before we left for college, he gave me a wrapped up box and told me not to open it until I was on the plane. Attached to it was a long letter that took me forever to read through my tears. And inside the pink box, nestled on soft pink tissue paper was the puck. His puck.

I could feel tears building up behind my eyes as I held the puck in my hands, turning it over, feeling it's weight and texture. It was so simple, yet it meant so much.

I placed it on my desk next to a framed photo of me and him. I turned away from it sadly.

The puck meant so much four years ago, did it mean much today?

I continued to unpack, laughing at what I had in my case. Photos of the Ducks, more of my family, my favourite stuffed teddy bear, a photo album, a few CD's, my cell phone charger, my certificate of graduation from Stanford University. I set that to the side. Mom would inevitably want it framed and hung on the 'Reed Hall Of Fame', as she calls it. It's actually just the wall up the stairs, covered in photos of Fulton and I from when we were born, until most recently, our graduation from high school.

I reached the empty bottom of my suitcase and sighed, and proceeded to go through the pockets.

I found letters from Fulton, from a few of the Ducks, some jewellery, nothing monumental.

My life seemed so different since I'd last been back in Minnesota, in my old life. I'd grown up so much in the four years at college, that I didn't feel like the same Dakota Reed. Or Kota, or more often, Dakka, thanks to Fulton. I wasn't an 18-year-old, eagerly anticipating college. I wasn't a ballet dancer anymore, I didn't like the Care Bears, and I no longer preferred Hanson or Backstreet Boys as my favourite bands. I was 25 years old, a qualified emergency room doctor, I did yoga of a morning, and occasionally went jogging. I love watching movies and reading, I love listening to Coldplay, Ben Harper, Sinead O'Connor and Sarah McLachlan.

I didn't seem to fit into my old life anymore.

It was like I changed while everything in Minnesota stayed the same. The house was still the same colour, my dad had the same car, the same job. My mother was still a teacher at Minneapolis Primary School, and Fulton was still playing hockey. My room was exactly how I had it four years ago, even down to the NSYNC poster I had hanging on the back of my door.

I stood up and stowed my suitcase under my bed, and approached my NYSNC poster. I pulled it down and balled it up. I did the same with my old 'Never Been Kissed' movie poster. Down it came and ended up balled on my plush white carpet.

I continued to tear down things from my wall, posters of animals, of Britney Spears, old flyers advertising student unions at Eden Hall, another movie poster with Ben Affleck on it for 'Armageddon'. I pulled everything down until there was nothing left, except for a framed picture of my family and a couple of snapshots from high school.

My walls stared back at me lifelessly, and I kicked at a piece of paper on the floor. I felt good.

In the place of my old posters, I put up a big poster of a dolphin I'd bought back from Stanford. I tacked pictures of my friends from college on my memo board, and I set up some frames on my desk.

I swept up the discarded paper on me floor and shoved them into my bin, closing the lid firmly so it all wouldn't spill back out.

I collapsed onto my bed and looked around and smiled. Things were changing. It wasn't just me anymore.

"What are you doing?"

I looked over at Fulton, who had his head stuck in my door.

"Just redecorating," I answered.

He shrugged. "Whatever. You better start getting ready for Connie's."

I looked at my clock radio, surprised to see that it was 5:00 already.

I jumped up and walked into the adjoining bathroom I shared with Fulton.

I undressed and turned on the faucet, and stepped under the hot water.

I washed all my tensions out of my body and sighed, letting the steam surround me, cleansing me. I washed my hair with my special melon shampoo I got in California, then shaved my legs and armpits and completed with a mango body wash that left me smelling delicious.

I got out and wrapped a big fluffy blue towel around me and rubbed moisturizer on my face, before I slapped some on my legs.

"It smells like a rotting fruit bowl in there," Fulton complained as I breezed out of the bathroom back into my room.

I rolled my eyes and opened my cupboard. "You could use some, maybe you'd stop smelling less...gross?"

He got up and laughed. "Mature, Dakka, real mature."

"Don't call me Dakka."

"Sure thing, Dakka."

He walked into the bathroom. "Look who's being mature," I shot back as the door closed.

I rolled my eyes and flipped through my closet, searching desperately for something to wear. I didn't want something too over the top, nor did I want something too under the top.

My hand settled on my favourite pair of jeans, the ones with the embroidery around the bottom and I smiled.

The jeans, with a white t-shirt with the slogan 'This is a t-shirt' across the front, courtesy from my roommate at Stanford, Anais, who was a fashion major.

I dressed quickly and added jewellery, a red leather choker and some bracelets and did my make up in my full-length mirror. I blow-dried my hair messily and slipped an elastic onto my wrist in case my medium length dark hair became a problem.

Satisfied with my efforts, I slipped boots on and grabbed my faux fur coat and slipped into it, cuddling into the fabric happily. I added my signature scent, J'adore, but Christian Dior and I was good to go.

"Hey pretty girl."

"Hey daddy," I greeted as my dad came into my room. I gave him a hug and he kissed my hair.

"Fulton and I are going to Connie's party," I explained as he let me go. He looked tired.

"That's nice."

I smiled. "I missed you heaps, Dad."

"I missed you too, kitten."

He smiled and left my room, and Fulton replaced him. "Let's go."

I grabbed my purse and followed Fulton down the stairs, out into the twilight.

The ride to Connie's house was short and quiet. Talking to my brother was something that usually ended in him teasing me, so I knew better than to actually initiate a conversation.

As we pulled up to the Moreau household, the sound of the party echoed around the driveway.

I got out of the car and climbed the drive and knocked on the front door.

"Ah! Dakota!" Connie laughed and pulled me into her arms.

"Hey Cons," I greeted, hugging her tightly.

The Ducks, who were convened in the living room shouted their hellos.

"Where's Fulton?" Charlie asked after giving me a hello kiss.

"Right here!" Fulton bellowed, entering the house, closing the front door behind him.

I shrugged off my jacket and grabbed myself a beer. I leant up against the doorframe to the living room and sipped it casually.

"He's not here yet," Connie said softly, coming up to me brandishing a plate of cheese and crackers.

I helped myself to some and nodded. "Is he coming?"

Connie smiled. "Course he is. Just a little late, that's all."

She walked over to Russ, Luis and Goldberg, offering them snacks. I didn't have time to think anymore before the doorbell rang.

I moved into the living room and stood beside the couch, trying to look nonchalant.

"Look who finally shows up!" Charlie crowed and slapped him on the back.

I took a nervous sip of my beer and watched him do the rounds of the room, greeting everyone with a hug or a handshake.

He certainly demands attention, I thought to myself as I watched him.

Charlie placed a beer in his hands and he took a sip gratefully.

He gave Connie a hug and snagged a cracker and moved over to Luis, greeting him with a hearty slap on the back. They laughed at something and Luis gave him a one-armed hug.

I watched as he wandered on from Luis and greeted Fulton with a manly hug. He was skinnier than the last time I'd seen him, and he looked tired, his eyes sallow and his skin pale. But he was still the same boy. Man.

He talked to Fulton for a few minutes before he turned around, and our eyes clicked.

He moved over towards me, his eyes locked on mine, and I felt completely helpless. His gaze held me, captivated me. Ever since the first time I'd looked into his eyes, they'd mesmerized me.

"Hey Dakota," he said softly, bringing me into his arms with a gentle, loving hug.

We let go. "Hey, Adam."