My Dear School Senior - 1. Chapter 1 The invitation

Tate was at his office, busy reviewing a stack of documents awaiting his approval.

He glanced up at his computer screen and refreshed his inbox. A new email caught his attention.

Subject: Twenty-Year High School Reunion Invitation

Tate opened it and casually scanned the guest list.

His eyes moved down the names until they stopped at one in particular.

Richard Miller.

It had been a long time since Tate had thought about that name.

At least, that was what he had always told himself.

He moved his cursor back to the guest list and checked again, making sure he hadn't misread it.

Richard Miller.

His best friend back in high school. The very same Richard Miller who always sat in the front row, his shirt neatly buttoned and his schoolbag meticulously organized, as though everything in his life had its proper place.

The guy who would frown whenever Tate cracked a dirty joke in class, yet somehow still had the patience to tutor him in math before every exam.

A faint smile tugged at Tate's lips.

He remembered the way Richard looked when he was angry.

And he remembered the way he smiled.

Especially the latter.

He became so lost in thought that he barely noticed the daylight fading outside his window. It felt as though the sky had darkened in an instant.

He picked up his phone and sent a message to the reunion organizer.

Count me in.

After hitting send, he glanced at the guest list once more.

Richard's name was still there.

Tate set his phone down on the desk, suddenly finding himself all the tension drained away.

On Saturday afternoon, Tate came home an hour earlier than usual.

He took a shower, shaved, and then spent nearly twenty minutes standing in front of his wardrobe.

After trying on several different outfits, he still wasn't satisfied. Everything made him look too formal, as if he were heading to a business meeting rather than a high school reunion.

He found it ridiculous that he was this nervous, especially at his age.

In the end, he settled on a dark casual blazer over a soft, light-colored shirt, leaving the tie behind.

He adjusted his collar in the mirror.

His hair was noticeable streaks of gray at his temples.

Still, he was reasonably pleased with what he saw.

Ever since he was young, he'd been accustomed to catching a certain look in people's eyes—the kind that both fascination and desire.

Age might have tamed some of his youthful wildness, but he had always taken good care of himself.

Tate leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the fine lines at the corners of his eyes.

Then, suddenly, he laughed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

he muttered to himself.

Tate picked up his car keys, headed downstairs, and walked into the garage.

He chose the dark gray Bentley sedan.

It was the most comfortable car he'd ever owned. After so many years behind the wheel, he'd grown so accustomed to its familiar comfort that he'd almost forgotten he'd originally bought it simply because he'd fallen in love with the badge on the hood.

After parking, he remained in the driver's seat for a while, gazing at the school building.

Twenty years ago, he had walked out of that building countless times.

Sometimes it was simply the end of another school day; other times, he'd gotten himself into trouble and been kicked out of class.

He used to linger in the stairwell at the side of the school corridor, hoping Richard would come and keep him company for a while.

Sometimes Richard would even give him a hard time, telling him to stop messing around and take school seriously for once. But whenever Richard showed up and pulled him into a hug, Tate would feel like nothing in the world could hurt him anymore.

As Tate found himself lost in those memories, a smile crept across his face without him even realizing it.

When he arrived, he opened the car door and stepped out.

As he entered the hall, he was greeted by music and the lively buzz of conversation.

A long table stood near the entrance, covered with name tags, commemorative booklets, and mugs printed with their graduation year.

A few former classmates helping with registration recognized him immediately.

"Tate?"

A woman called out in surprise.

"Oh my God! Tate Harrison!"

He walked over with a smile.

Over the next ten minutes, he shook more hands than he could count, received several enthusiastic hugs, and was forced to reminisce about a few high school incidents he couldn't remember at all.

His old classmates certainly seemed pleased to see him. Especially once they learned he was now in real estate investment.

"I always knew you'd make something of yourself."

A man who had barely spoken to him back in high school gave him an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder.

Tate smiled politely.

Funny, this was the same guy who'd once told the entire class that Tate would end up either in jail or washing cars for a living. But that was twenty years ago.

"So I hear you're doing pretty well for yourself these days. Any chance you've been involved in those big projects downtown Chicago?"

"A few of them."

"I knew it!"

The man looked positively thrilled, as though he'd just discovered someone important.

"We should definitely get together sometime. "

Tate nodded politely.

"Of course."

He could already imagine exactly how that conversation would go.

A little later, he was introduced to another former classmate who ran a medical equipment company.

Tate had nothing against people sharing their accomplishments.

What irritated him was the way everyone seemed so desperate to prove that they'd done better than everyone else over the past twenty years.

They talked about houses, cars, salaries, their children's schools, and marriages that hadn't lasted.

Tate stood among them with a glass of soda in his hand, smiling occasionally, nodding when appropriate.

He was already starting to regret coming.

The only thing keeping him from walking straight out the door was that he still hadn't seen Richard.

Every time he spotted a man with a similar build, he couldn't help taking a second look.

But none of them was Richard.

Eventually, he went over to the registration desk.

"Has Richard Miller shown up yet?"

The woman handling check-in looked down and scanned the guest list.

"Richard?"

"Yeah."

"Looks like he's here. He's signed in."

Tate thanked her and headed back into the hall.

A graduation video was playing on the stage.

On the giant screen, a group of eighteen-year-olds were laughing without a care in the world.

Then Tate spotted his younger self.

His hair was a mess, his school jacket hanging open as he made a ridiculous face at the camera.

Then he turned to look at Richard beside him.

Richard was wearing a neatly pressed white shirt, and he was already looking back at Tate.

Their eyes met and lingered for a moment.

Then they both smiled, neither one looking away.