Sara had agreed, Luigi's was a cute little café. Hidden in an older part of town, Luigi's sat on a side street, nestled between a barbershop and brownstones. Mostly trafficked by local patrons, Jon considered it a hidden treasure-- fast, inexpensive, plus, you could get a darned good plate of ziti.

The décor was sparse but homey. Bright, Italian themed posters adorned the brown brick walls, while the large, warehouse style windows looked out onto the street. These were framed by red and white checkered curtains, matching the tablecloths exactly. Tables were crammed into the restaurant seemingly at random, but under closer inspection all were the perfect distance from each other-- far enough away to not hear too much of other's conversations, yet close enough to not seem isolated. However, Jon paid all this no attention, as Sara was a far more engaging subject.

It had been a while (two months, twenty-eight days, not that he was keeping track) since last they had met. She sat in profile, and Jon drank in her looks intently. Her spicy green eyes, a smile sparking right behind them. He could still see the small scar through her left eyebrow from where he'd accidentally smacked her with a bat in fourth grade. She never covered it with makeup. She'd gotten a haircut since last he saw her, auburn locks now falling just under her chin. It suited her; short hair always had. Oblivious to his attention, she tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the movement highlighting the faint blush over her high cheekbones.

He felt a something slip from his fingers, and realized he was staring. Back in reality, he noticed that the forkful of ziti previously in his hand now resided in his lap. Cursing inwardly, he started working on the red stain. Luckily, she was too busy gazing out the window to notice. 'Not behavior fitting a best friend,' he thought wryly.

He sighed. Only a friend, always a friend. He and Sara had been best friends since childhood. Through thick and thin they'd stuck by each other, and everything had been fine, until one day the too tall kid with too short hair and braces crying into his shoulder about the fallen bird's nest or dead goldfish became the attractive, intelligent girl at Homecoming whose date had abandoned her for a cheerleader. As he'd held her that night, he realized that it felt right, and he never wanted to let her go. Moments later, she spoke the words that would echo in his mind for years: "I'm glad we're such good friends." The emphasis was such that there was no mistake in what her meaning was.

"Jon? What are you doing?" Sara had a questioning look on her face. He looked down to where he had rubbed the paper napkin to stringy white balls.

"Heh... had a little accident..."

She playfully returned his limp smile and dug into her spaghetti. "So, how's school?" she asked around her mouthful of noodles.

"Same as always," he replied. "We've missed you though." That was the understatement of the year. He almost gave another sigh as he rambled on about classes, mutual friends, and the like. Not listening to his empty words, he wondered how much Sara had gone on without him these past three months. She'd gotten a scholarship to the prestigious Lawrenceville School, and boarding there had been the longest time they'd ever been apart. She'd barely called or emailed since then. (He'd written letters everyday... but only sent one per week.) Maybe she'd grown without him. He picked at his lunch, noticing the silence from her end. Maybe she'd gone on to bigger, better things, like whatever she kept staring at out the window. Maybe if he paid enough attention to give a coherent sentence, they could have a conversation.

"Hey you," he ordered in his best gruff voice. "You're under arrest for neglect of your lunch date."

"Hmm?" She jumped a little, obviously startled by his voice. She shook her head slightly, then smiled. "Sorry for phasing out there, Jon. What did you say?"

She really had a knockout smile. It brightened up her face. Heck, it brightened up the whole room. Jon couldn't help but smile too.

"Yo, Jon. Now you're the one spaced out. What's wrong? You suddenly drifted off with this dumb grin on your face."

"Did I?" he laughed nervously. "I guess I'm just getting old and senile." A sub-par recovery... "We are almost high school graduates, you know."

She nodded. "That's what I was thinking about earlier. There's a girl outside playing hopscotch... I was thinking that it really wasn't so long ago that I was like her."

"Me too," Jon agreed.

She raised an eyebrow. "You were a little girl? Was this something I never knew about?"

"No," Jon said, pursing his lips. "Remember all those times when you forced me to play hopscotch with you? It was third grade before I could get out of it."

"Forced you? I don't remember ever asking you to play... If you'd gone to summer camp like everyone else in this town, you wouldn't be stuck with the leftover girl." She screwed up her face slightly. "Besides, I thought you liked to play."

"Did I ever seem to be having a good time? I-" At the look on her face, the remaining words died on his tongue. She hadn't really been... hurt by this, had she? Of course not. She joked around like this all the time, and he wasn't going to fall for it. That would be ridiculous. But... that face...

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

She giggled, melancholy lost in an instant. "You always fall for that! Why would a little thing like that get me down?"

She was right. He did always fall for her 'pathetique' face. Common sense knew better, but when she turned those puppy dog eyes on him... 'Alright now, calm down, you're spooning.' It was time to pay attention; Sara was talking to him.

"-and so his face turned blue for a week!" she explained, laughing. "It was hilarious."

He cracked a weak grin. The time for pleasantries was over... it was time for the important questions. "So... have you decided where you're going to college?"

"Oh," her smile faded slightly. "I guess I hadn't told you. I was very lucky... I've gotten a scholarship to Washington University. My parents are very excited. I'm.. I'm excited too." She nodded, eyes slightly turned down. Was she reassuring herself of that statement? "What about you?"

"I'm probably just going to the state school... figure I can save some money." Jon did his best to act nonchalant as he dealt with the information that had hit him like a ton of bricks. Washington University! Wasn't that all the way in St. Louis? From Jersey to Missouri was one long drive. He might never see her again...

It had to be now. He couldn't leave this hanging, not forever unsaid. He had to tell her how he really felt. He would.

'He felt Sara's eyes on him. Clasping her hands in his, he gazed earnestly into her luminous green eyes, ready, finally ready to say the words he'd had since the eighth grade Homecoming Dance.

'"Sara. I love you."

'Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh Jon..." She reached over the table and drew him into a passionate kiss. The patrons of the café applauded.'

"Yeah right," Jon said aloud. "Like that would ever happen. It'd be more like:"

'"Sara. I love you."

'Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh Jon..." She reached over the table and drew a knife. "I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever. I've just been toying with your emotions for the past four years. Now I'm going to cut out your heart and step on it a few times, in case hurting your feelings wasn't enough pain for you." Smiling, she moved forward, knife towards his chest...'

"Aaah!" he started, before closing his eyes and realizing that it had just been a daydream. Sara would never really try to kill him. He took a deep breath and reopened his eyes. Sara sat, pointing her knife at his chest. "Aaah! What are you--"

"Jon. Calm down, you're making a scene. I just wanted to know if you were going to eat that." She indicated the barely touched ziti on his plate. "I'm starved."

Jon nodded, barely noticing as she took his lunch. It was time. For real. These imaginary things were driving him crazy-- or at least making others think he was.

"Sara," he stated.

"Yes?" She looked up from her food.

"I- I have something important to tell you." He moved to grasp her hands, then decided against it after realizing his must be damp with sweat. He awkwardly fumbled with a napkin as he continued. "Sara."

She looked at him intently, setting down her knife and fork.

"I.. I know we're living different lives, but... I don't want to go without-"

"You don't have to say it. I know how you feel about this, but please." Her face was urgent. "Let me pick up the check."

Jon was floored. He remained stunned for the rest of the meal.

It went fairly uneventfully, Sara talking on happily, Jon running on autopilot as his brain tried its best to figure out if he'd just been dumped or if she really didn't get it. She really did take the check too. He felt like a cad, but then, reasoning that she had ended up eating all the food anyway, he felt better.

As they left the restaurant, she smiled, impulsively grabbing his arm and looking into his eyes. "Did you really hate playing hopscotch all that much?"

He looked down at her, surprised. "Well..." he stuttered in reply. "It's not that I didn't like to do something, but.. guys and hopscotch..." He shrugged.

"Oh," she commented, looking downward. "Just because I hated that game. The only reason I ever played was because you would come." She turned away so he wouldn't see her blush, but Jon could catch the red tips of her ears.

"Well... um.. did you want to play now?" Jon offered.

"Now? Aren't we a little old for that?"

He looked her in the eye. "Are we?"

She only stared at him, unmoving, expression unreadable. The moment held for one beat, two.

"I'm not if you aren't. Sure. I'd love to play." Sara smiled, a deep, warm smile. Jon returned it with all the intensity he had.

And they began.