Welcome to the DMV
Sparks fly when two former BFFs rediscover each other in the worst place on Earth, the DMV.
Tropes – Second Chance Romance, First Love, Best Friends to Strangers to Lovers
This has got to be hell. Or as close as you can get on Earth.
The man in front of me shifts two steps forward, following the woman in front of him, following the couple in front of her, following the mother and baby in front of them…so on and so forth. I move forward two steps and glance at the long line behind me. Then I do a double take. “Benji?”
A man standing two people away from me looks up from his phone. Oh my God, it is Benji. A much taller, broader, bearded Benjamin Kane.
The last time I saw him was end of summer 2009. I was waving goodbye from his parents’ driveway, along with our best friends, Nance and Georgie. I haven’t seen him since. This man is miles removed from that scruffy, lanky 18 year old on his way to Harvard.
I recognize him because he still has that scar over his left brow from 7th grade when I dared him to jump into the flooded quarry. I nearly had a heart attack when he came back up with blood dripping down his face. He got in so much trouble for that stunt but he never told anyone I dared him. We were inseparable after that.
This man doesn’t look like he’d jump in a quarry on a dare. Not in his tailored grey slacks, fitted short sleeve navy button down shirt, and polished black wingtip Derbys. He looked like a finance bro who couldn’t quite place me.
“It’s me! Angie!” I say, jumping up and down, patting my chest like that’ll make him remember me.
He takes a beat. His narrowed eyes roaming up and down my body, then his eyes widen as he does another pass. “Angie!? Wow, I didn’t recognize you.”
That’s cause I lost 50 pounds and dyed my strawberry blonde hair to a ‘take me serious’ chocolate brown. He’s not the only person who had trouble recognizing me. “Yeah, it’s been awhile. What are you doing here, Benji? Last I heard, you were still in Boston.”
Benji runs a hand through his short black hair, glancing at our audience. The two people between us are making a valiant attempt to look like they aren’t eavesdropping. “I just moved back last month. I’m registering my car. What are you doing here?”
I roll my eyes. “Renewing my driver’s license. I need a new picture so I can stop getting weird looks when I’m carded.”
Benji smirks, “I bet you get stopped a lot. You look good. We should catch up some time. What’s it been? 10 years?” Oh my God, is he flirting?
“It’s more like 11.” It’s actually been 11 years, 2 months, and 6 days, but who’s counting?
I look at the people between us then back at Benji before making up my mind, “And why wait?,” I say as I step around our linemates to stand beside him, “We’ve got plenty of time to catch up right now.”