Too Little, Too Late

Chapter Three

"Happy graduation, Olly," someone said behind Oliver, her soft hands covering his eyes. He turned around and saw Tara smiling happilly down at him.

"Hey, what took you so long?" Oliver asked Tara, standing up.

"Oh, Pete," Tara said, jerking her thumb behind her to Peter Armstrong, her best friend. "I took him to his house to change and then we stopped at some other parties he was invited to." She sighed, pretending she was totally irritated. "Believe me, I was being held hostage."

"I'll take your word for it," Oliver said, putting his hands on Tara's waist. "There are a few family members that wish to meet and greet with you because I talk about so much, in their words. Would you mind?"

"Not at all, my dear," Tara replied. "What's going on with all this formality? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Oliver said, obviously forcing a smile, but Tara didn't say anything about it. "Don't worry - we don't have to stay here long. My mom said I could leave around five o'clockish."

"And where will we be going after that?" Tara asked, her blue eyes twinkling and a sly smirk on her face.

"Well, that will be something that we're going to find out later, isn't it?" Oliver said, leaning his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes.

"Olly, you do realize that your entire family is here and your grandmother could be looking at us right now, right?" Tara asked, putting her own hands on Oliver's.

"Valid point," Oliver said, straightening up. "Let's meet and greet."

***

"What the -," Oliver said, jerking up quickly from his sleep. He blinked and looked around, noticing that he had fallen asleep at his desk in front of his laptop, half of an essay written that was due in a few hours. He swerved to look behind him and saw Daryn's empty bed. "Thanks for the wake up call, buddy."

Oliver groaned and looked back at his laptop. The clock on the computer said that it was 10:43 and he had to have his essay written by noon for his creative writing class. "Great," Oliver muttered, his fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to start typing.

Then, with full force, he remembered what he had just dreamed about. He smiled in spite of himself. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a spiral notebook which he called his journal, although he very rarely wrote anything in it, only re-read old entries. He flipped open to the back of the well worn notebook and found small picture of himself and Tara taped to the cardboard backing. It wasn't a very good picture - Pete had taken it when they were unawares way back when they had first started going out when he was a junior and she was a sophomore. They had been completely smitten with each other and every so often Oliver felt like he still was.

His smile faded slowly as he remembered what had happened only a few days after his graduation. He shook his head, wondering what he had been thinking.

Before he could drive himself insane with the different thoughts he was having, the phone rang, forcing Oliver to jump out of his train of thought.

"Hello?" Oliver asked, snapping the journal shut and putting it back into it's hiding place. "This is Oliver."

"Hi, Oliver, this is Tara." Crap, Oliver thought.

"Hi, Tara."

"Yeah, I can't talk long because I have a class, like, three minutes ago, but I thought I'd just let you know that I'd be happy to give you a ride this weekend," she said quickly.

"Oh, okay," Oliver replied, not sure if this was a good thing.

"But, I kind of wanted to get to know you before Friday, you know?" Tara said. "So, do you think we could meet down in the Underground in the coffee shop?" The Underground was like the student commons area where most all the students at the college would socialize and whatnot.

"Uhh, sure," Oliver said, swallowing. "What time?"

"Around seven?" Tara asked.

"Sounds great." Oliver scribbled the time and place on a post-it note and put it on the top of his computer screen. Not that he would need reminding of when this little reunion would be.

"Okay, cool!" Tara said. "But, I really need to go. I'll see you tonight."

"See you then," Oliver replied, hanging up the phone. He turned back to his laptop. "What have I gotten myself into?" he asked himself, not for the first time in the past twenty-four hours.

***

"This has been the worst day," Tara said, storming into her room to find Gwen on the floor, painting her toenails.

"Aw, poor Tara," Gwen replied, not looking up from her toes. "What happened?"

"Okay, you know that chick, Eliza, from choir that I can't stand?" Tara began, throwing her bag onto the floor and flopping down onto her bed.

"Mh hm," Gwen said.

"Well, we're in choir today singing, believe it or not," Tara said, staring at the ceiling. "Suddenly, Dr Thomas announces that we're going to have auditions for the solo for the concert and all this crap. Right on cue, Eliza starts to complain. 'Oh, but Dr Thomas, you haven't given us proper time to prepare!'" she mimicked in a high voice. "She went on for, like, five minutes. She put the entire alto section to sleep, believe me."

"Okay," Gwen said, showing she wasn't completely entranced with her toes.

"Dr Thomas, luckilly, didn't give a care as to what she was saying and went along with having auditions today," Tara continued. "So, we all audition - those of us that wanted it, I mean - and everything goes fine. Then, at the end, Eliza waltzes over as Dr Thomas is looking over his notes and whatever before he announced who would get the solo, added in with class votes."

"Uh oh," Gwen said, looking up. "Cat fight?"

"Near enough," Tara groaned. "She's all, 'Tara, I'm really sorry about how you did.' Then Terry, the tenor that stands behind me says, 'What are you talking about, Eliza?' And she gives all this baloney about how I cracked halfway through the damn solo and whatnot. Now, I was already freaking out and everything, so this didn't help."

"So, what happened?" Gwen asked.

"Oh, I got the solo," Tara shrugged. "You should have seen the look on Eliza's face."

"Well, then it wasn't too terrible, then, was it?" Gwen asked, returning to her toes.

"Not really, but Eliza had a total hissy afterwards and turned the majority of the sopranos against me."

"They're sopranos, who cares," Gwen muttered.

"I also got another D on a history paper," Tara said, sighing. "I need to go home, see Bryce - "

"Oh, he called," Gwen said suddenly.

"Really?" Tara replied, bolting up.

"Yeah, you're supposed to call him tonight after eight on his cell," Gwen said.

"I missed him?" Tara asked, her face falling.

"Uh..yeah," Gwen said, looking at Tara. "That would be why he left a message with me."

"Oh, crap, that's right," Tara said, laying back down on her bed. "I have to meet that Oliver guy tonight."

"When?"

"Seven o'clock at the coffee shop."

"Then you might want to boogie, seeing as it's five after," Gwen said, glancing at her watch and turning back to her toe nails.

"Aw, shit," Tara said, jumping to her feet, grabbing her purse, and throwing on some flip flops. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"Have a good time and bring me back a latte!" Gwen shouted after Tara as she rushed out of the door.

Meanwhile, in the Underground, Oliver was sitting with his cappucino in his hand. He glanced at his watch and sighed. Obviously her punctuality hadn't changed since he last talked to her.

He had taken careful consideration in what he wore. He didn't want to make it completely obvious that he was actually Oliver Lansing and not Oliver O'dell and that he was stalking her. But, at the same time, he wanted her to figure it out. So, he wore a pair of khakis and a good old fashioned American Eagle sweatshirt - the kind of attire he wore when they were together, only with a label twist. He hadn't been one of those name brand kind of guys.

Suddenly, Oliver looked up and saw Tara hurry into the shop, looking around anxiously. He swallowed hard and toyed with the styrofoam cup that held his caffiene via hot beverage. He nonchalantly waved at her. She saw him and quickly walked over and sat in the chair across from him.

"I am so sorry," Tara said, sighing heavilly. "I lost complete track of time. I forgot that I had my lesson today at 5:30 and that went until 6:30 and all this other crap happened. But, I'm sure you don't want to hear about it."

Oliver just smiled, not sure what the correct response would be. He stuck his hand out and said, "I'm Oliver."

"Tara," she replied, taking his hand and shaking it. "So, why are you going home this weekend?"

"Highschool homecoming," Oliver replied, finally able to be truthful with her. "I was in the marching band all four years and it's kind of become a ritual for me to go back and see how they do."

"Same here, only this would be my first year doing it," Tara said, smiling. She waved a waitress over and ordered an iced coffee. When she was finished, she asked, "Where exactly do you live?"

"Just on the outskirts of the town," he said. "Maybe a mile from the highschool. Came in handy when I lacked gas money and whatnot."

Tara smiled and nodded. "Lucky you. I live out in the country, if you want to call it that. It was terrible having to either ride the bus or hang a ride with friends before I got my own license."

"I bet," Oliver replied, looking away from her face. He was suddenly happy that he had highlighted his hair since he last saw her.

"You know, I can hardly believe I never met you in highschool, especially through marching band," Tara said, staring in disbelief at Oliver. "I was drum major my junior and senior year, so you'd think I would have seen you at least once or twice."

"Well, you know," Oliver shrugged. "I tended to be in the background." That was a major lie. Oliver had been first chair trumpet and had had the largest mouth of the section. Something he had been proud of back in highschool.

"That's all good," Tara replied. "Oh, I forgot to mention this before. My boyfriend, Bryce, wanted to come home this weekend, too, to pick up his car from home, so we'd have to pick him up. He's just on the way."

Oliver tried not to show his shock in this newfound information. He also tried not to show how his heart just sunk to his feet. "Yeah, that's fine."

"All right, good," Tara said, relieved. "I had promised him a while back that I'd pick him up for this."

"Just out of curiosity, what's your boyfriend's name again?" Oliver asked.

"Bryce Nettles," Tara replied.

"Oh, okay," Oliver replied. Bryce. While they had been going out, Oliver had always figured that Bryce had had something for Tara. Obviously he had.

"Yeah, he's a nice guy," Tara said. "I'm sure you'll like him fine enough."

"I'm sure I will," Oliver said.

Tara's iced coffee came to her and she quickly paid before drinking some of it. "I love these things," she said, more to herself than to Oliver.

"So, what's your major?" Oliver asked. She had been planning on going for music education.

"I have a vocal performance and creative writing double," Tara said. "I couldn't make up my mind. I like to sing and I love to write, so I just wasn't sure what to do. Hopefully, by the time I graduate, I'll have an idea as to where I want to go."

Oliver laughed in appreciation. "I think that's what most everyone thinks."

"What about you?" Tara asked. "What's your major?"

"Instrumental performance on trumpet," Oliver said without thinking twice. "I have a American history minor."

"Really?" Tara asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Just out of curiosity, have you ever met Oliver Lansing?"

"Umm, why?" Oliver asked, hoping that he wasn't sweating or his face wasn't turning red.

"You just seem a lot like him," Tara said, eyeing him up. "That's what major and minor he was planning for when I knew him. Plus, there is a very remarkable likeness between you and him regarding your eyes, hair, nose, lips..." Realization flooded into her eyes, quickly replaced with anger.

"Look, Tara, I can explain - "

"What the hell, Olly?!"

"Tara, please - "

"You walk out of my life for over a year and suddenly you just show up again without notice?" Tara asked, obviously trying to control the volume of her voice. "In disguise, on top of it?"

"Look, Tara - "

"No, I don't want to look, Oliver," Tara said, jumping to her feet and snatching up her purse and iced coffee. "I mean, really! Did you really think I was dense enough not to recognize my ex-boy friend of almost two years?"

"I don't know - "

"Just - just," Tara screwed her eyes shut in frustration and anger, "find a different damn ride, Oliver!" She spun on her heel and stormed out of the shop, leaving many pairs of eyes on Oliver, who was flushed in embarrassment.