Page 10 of When Forever Comes

FOUR

WEST

Age 15

Olivia Swann is my teenage dream.

I’ve seen her around school with the football players and her fellow cheerleaders. But she never looks happy. Sure, she’s smiling, but it looks forced.

Not that I know her well enough to assume her smile is forced, but something tells me she doesn’t wear her genuine smile for those people. I glimpsed it in study hall while she wrote in her tattered notebook. I sat a few desks over from her and couldn’t fight the urge to look at her as her hand flew across the page, scribbling down her thoughts like they’d float away if she didn’t write them fast enough. She must have noticed my stare, because she looked up and our gazes collided. But she didn’t scowl or look away. She stared right back and smiled, then turned her focus back to her notebook. All it took was those few seconds, and I was hooked.

* * *

Students swarm the courtyard during our lunch break. I’ve found my favorite spot on the edge of the field beneath a maple tree. Olivia steps out of the cafeteria and appears to scan her surroundings, as if she’s looking for someone. Today is game day, which means she’s wearing her cheerleading uniform that shows off her toned legs.

Her eyes land on me, and she smiles, then waves. I turn to look behind me, checking to see if there’s someone else she could be approaching. But I’m the only one here and before I know it, she stands over me, her backpack over her shoulder and lunch bag in her hand.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asks, and I nod my approval.

When she sits beside me, she tugs down her skirt despite the shorts peeking out from beneath.

“Thanks.” She smiles and takes out her lunch — an egg salad sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water.

“I’m Olivia.” When she extends her hand, I take it. Her skin is silky smooth. My heartbeat pulses in my ears.

I don’t release her hand for several breaths, sucked into the pools of her amber eyes.

Olivia looks down at our hands, then back into my face; a pretty pink blush coats her cheeks. Reluctantly, I release her hand.

“You’re West, right? West Lockwood? This is your first year at Emerald High?”

I nod and her brows scrunch together adorably at the center. She opens her mouth as if to say something but bites into her sandwich instead.

She chews for a few moments, swallows, then says, “I think we have some classes together. You’re in homeroom with Mr. Henderson, too, right?”

I take a bite of my food as she asks the question. “Yeah.” My voice comes out mumbled and I internally flinch. Embarrassment flares when I realize I’m talking to her with food in my mouth.

She takes a sip from her water bottle. Her lips quirk up in a half-smile. “Youcanspeak then.”

This is my chance to talk to the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. If I keep up this silent act, she’s going to leave. And I wouldn’t blame her.

“I can,” I reply. “I’m just not a big talker.”

She smiles. “That’s okay, I can probably talk enough for the both of us.”

Olivia makes it sound like we’re a team and my chest warms at that thought.

“Sounds good to me.”

We eat in companionable silence. She makes no moves to leave, and I can sense she’s comfortable around me. I don’t understand why, but I’m not complaining.

Before I can work up the courage to say anything, she asks, “Are you going to the after-game party tonight?”

“No.” My stomach rolls at the thought.

“Me neither.”

“Why?” I ask.

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