26. if only I could make you mine

She'd been half in love with Billy Keikeya since the day he'd shown up on her doorstep and handed over her screeching, rather angry kitty. Fleur – the cat – had been stuck up a tree, and he'd climbed it to get her down.

She'd been ten, and he and his family had moved in next door two weeks previous.

Already gawky and nowhere near growing into his own feet, Billy'd almost thrown Fleur at her. He'd been covered in scratches and minor cuts. She knew only some of those had come from her cat, and when pressed, he'd admitted that he'd actually fallen off the last branch.

She'd invited him in for a soda and by the time he'd left, they'd discovered they were going to be in several of the same classes the coming year and had agreed to meet up for lunch.

By the time she'd turned sixteen, she'd been lovesick on him in every way possible. And his best friend. A buddy, or a convenient sounding board on a date gone wrong. She'd been good old Sophie, and let him believe that her boyfriend of the week was the reason she occasionally showed up on his bedroom floor and cried.

It wasn't great, but it had worked.

The day before she'd gone off to Gemenon Academy of Art, they'd taken a picnic out to one of their high school gathering places and gone swimming. They'd made a day of it, splashing and lounging and eating whenever they wanted to. Late in the day, just before they started packing, she'd looked over at him and almost done it. Almost leaned over and kissed him. Just once.

He'd been beautiful in the setting sun, a play in golds and yellows. His hair had been lighter because of the summer sun and the construction job his father had foisted on to him 'for his own good'. She'd wanted to touch him. To take this memory for herself because everything was going to be different when she got on that transport in the morning.

She hadn't though. Because it would have changed everything. It had been too late, so she hadn't bothered.

She kissed him goodbye the next day, on the cheek. Just a bus that was the same as it had been for the past eight years.

She'd never seen him, not in person, again.

She'd watched him on the fleet newscasts though. He was still beautiful and gawky. But he'd grown up. He'd somehow made a place for himself and survived. She hadn't tried to contact him for that very reason. He had other things to do. He'd survived.

Until today.

She knows she's crying and that her roommate is giving her the weird eye, but all she can see is his name and a clip of his last press-conference flashing all over the colonial news.

She wishes she'd have kissed him under that Caprican sky. Now it's too late.