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My dad did not get home until after 2:30, just as I figured, and he collapsed into his lazy boy next to where I sat on the couch and after saying something about what a nice service it was, he pulled up what he thought would be a profitable thing to watch for a Sunday afternoon, which was another interesting documentary, and fell asleep.

I ended up watching the whole thing, although I could have easily changed it, Dad wouldn't have known the difference, but it rather absorbed you in a way, so I just let it play; my mind was elsewhere anyway.

Ever since Matt had spoken to me, a nervous excitement had been building inside of me, and my body shook slightly with it. I decided to go see what I would wear for this evening to distract myself from the nervous thought cycle I was in.

I settled on a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and put my hair into a loose french braid.

I wanted to feel like myself tonight.

Elegant dresses and jewellery did not bring out my realest self.

It made me feel... a stranger...to myself.

I didn't put any makeup on either, just put in my little diamond earrings and called it good.

This is more how Weston would have remembered me anyway. Not, I told myself, that I seriously cared what Weston thought about me or not.

I let my dad get a good nap in while I went and read my Bible for a while on the back porch, and when it got close to evening time, I went to the livingroom and woke him up.

"We're going over to Weston's?"

"Yeah Dad, I saw Weston and Matt the other night and they both invited us over for the evening."

"All right, we better be going then," he said, standing up and stretching. He walked to the front door then, slipped his feet into his sandals, and asked me if I was ready.

I guess that's why men never take long to get ready to go anywhere, they didn't get ready at all, they just went.

I shut the front door behind us and slipped my feet into a pair of square toed boots I'd left behind me when I moved; they were still in perfectly nice condition and fit me as they always did.

I looked across and both of our yards and got that sick feeling in my stomach again, my nerves returning full swing.

I prayed silently in my head the whole walk across the yard, not in words, just a mental plea that God would work everything out.

I was scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of allowing myself to trust again, and scared to look the person in the eyes who I'd spent the last two years building up an ever-increasing despite for. I had to learn how to rewire my brain, but I wasn't sure how to, and so I was left with this apprehensive wanting to think good of Weston again but subconsciously jaded by everything I had trained myself to believe about him.

Dad didn't knock on the front door, just opened it and loudly announced himself from the threshold like he usually did.

We heard Weston's shout from the back deck, and so we walked through the house and out the sliding glass door to join him.

The German Shepherd trotted over and began a thorough inspection of us, then must have decided we were fam because she licked my hand and went back to where Matt sat at the outdoor bar.

"Welcome, glad you guys could make it, we haven't done this in a while," Weston greeted us, walking over to give my dad a hug and acknowledging me with a nod, his eyes locking with mine in that mesmerizing way they had, just like the last time I'd seen him.

I smiled back, taking in a deep breath to calm my racing heartbeat.

I laughed at myself internally, remembering all of the times I'd said to myself over the past year that I was over Weston, that I didn't care about him anymore, I'd really convinced myself that I had no feelings left for him.

If I couldn't tell from the other night at the restaurant when my emotions had been absolutely wrecked by the sight of him, I knew now that I was no more over Weston now than I was the day he left me two years ago.

I went over and sat across from Matt at the bar and listened as the three men began to talk, but I couldn't tell you what they talked about because I can't remember, all I remember from that night was the way Weston looked at me, whenever my dad turned to talk to Matt or there was a lull in the conversation, Weston's eyes would return to me and I would try not to stare back, I would try my best to appear casual and calm as I burned from the inside, for that is what was happening to me, it was like I had a fever, even my skin was hot to the touch.

"Hey Ave," Weston called, from where he stood over the grill," Do you want a drink? You look hot."

I heard Matt scoff behind me quietly.

"Sure, I'd like a drink, should I get one from the fridge?"

"Yeah go on inside and get you one, and get me a... ah, never mind I'll  just come with you," he said, handing the spatula to my dad. "Y'all want anything?"

They told Wes what they wanted and I followed him inside.

He didn't say anything to me until he'd handed me my drink and gotten the others and we were walking back through the kitchen.

He paused and turned around and said, without hesitating, in a determined way like he'd rehearsed it before," Avery, can I please talk to you later?"

I shifted on my feet and nodded.

"Yes..."

I heard Weston exhale quietly, like he'd been holding his breath.

"Good. After your dad leaves or something, it's...private."

I nodded again, not trusting my voice.

He smiled and reached out, smoothing a hand over my hair in a carressing way.

" I missed you so much."

My breath hitched.

He saved me from having to answer though by dropping his hand and turning around to head back out to the deck.

"We better get back out there," he said over his shoulder.

I was glad because what was I supposed to say?

'I missed you for a while too but then the rest of the time I spent hating you'?

I sat at the bar again and drank my coke, feeling as if the ice had been broken, and I found it easier to engage in the conversation with everyone now.

We had grilled pork chops and k-bobs,  and even through all the adrenaline coursing through my body I was able to eat some of it, having eaten nearly nothing all weekend.

The TV Wes had out on the deck was playing some comedy, and in spite of my initial nervousness, within a few minutes I found myself doubled over in my chair laughing as loud as the rest of them.

I caught Weston's eye as he looked over his shoulder at me, and he grinned even more when he saw me laughing. He was sitting on some of the outdoor furniture next to my dad, but got up to get some more food from the bar, and instead of going back to his seat, he casually slid his plate over next to me and sat down.

I began to blush but tried to make it go away, afraid to let anyone see how Weston affected me.

I was so hyper aware of Weston sitting there next to me the whole time that I wasn't very aware of anything else, but when the movie was over I realized my dad was asleep on the couch, completely out.

I stood up and started to go over to him to wake him up, assuming he would want to go home now, but I stopped and turned when Weston grabbed my wrist.

"What?" I asked, eyes wide.

"He's fine Ave, come with me, I wanna talk with you."

West    [ COMPLETED ]Waar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu