Page 12 of When Forever Comes

There’s something about Weston Lockwood that has me wanting to know more. Not just because he’s a geeky sort of adorable but because I sense there’s something special about him. Something more. I want to figure out what that “more” is.

Those dark-rimmed glasses work for him. If the other girls looked past the lenses, they’d get lost in his ocean blue eyes. Just like I did. The girls in our school are too shallow to look past glasses, though. It’s wrong of me to say, but it’s true. I hope he never gets contacts because I want to keep Weston Lockwood all to myself.

My palms are sweating as I stand on his porch and ring his doorbell. It’s not just from the hot pizza in my hands, either. West makes me nervous, a giddy kind of nervous, and my jittery nerves make my hands sweat.

Thankfully, I only live one street over and walked here. I’m not old enough to get my license and Mom and Dad went out on a date after the game and won’t be home until well after one a.m. Dana is sleeping over at a friend’s house, so I didn’t have to answer any of my family’s prying questions about West.

His house is an impressive red brick two-story colonial with white shutters. Their front yard is well maintained, with various shrubs and flowers throughout the flowerbeds. Mom showed a few people this house the first week it was on the market, but the Lockwood family snagged it before anyone else could make an acceptable offer.

West’s front door swings open and a woman I assume is West’s mom greets me. “You must be Olivia. I’m Sally Lockwood.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lockwood.”

She waves me off. “No, none of that Mrs. Lockwood nonsense. Please call me Sally.”

Sally ushers me in, and I follow her through the ornate entryway and down the first hall.

“West is in the kitchen.”

Before we reach the kitchen, West emerges with a short stack of paper plates and napkins.

“Hey, Olivia,” he says, glancing between me and his mom.

“Hi, West.” I raise my hand in a wave and almost drop the pizza. Feeling like a klutz, I slide my hand beneath the pizza box to steady it.

West and I stand and stare at each other for a few beats, both of us apparently unsure of what to say or how to act. It’s his mom who breaks the tension.

“You two kids have fun. West, don’t forget to turn off the projector when you’re done.”

“Will do.”

“It was nice meeting you, Olivia. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

After Sally disappears up the stairs, West motions for me to follow him. He opens the double doors at the end of the hall and I step into an actual theater room.

“Wow,” I say, my eyes roaming over the five rows of leather couches. A screen descends from the ceiling.

“My dad is a huge movie buff.”

“This is amazing. Those couches look crazy comfortable.” I set the pizza down on the table next to where West set the plates and napkins.

A lopsided smile stretches across his lips, revealing his perfect teeth. “They are. What movie do you want to watch?”

“What do you have?” I ask, plating a slice of pizza on each of our two plates.

Nonchalantly, he says, “All of them.” He motions to the plates. “You don’t have to do that, I can get my own.”

I wave him off. “It’s no big deal. But you seriously have every movie?” I ask, making my way to the couch in the center row.

West shrugs. “My dad’s a professional movie critic. So we have any movie that’s come out in like the last fifteen years.”

“That’s too much pressure. Surprise me.” I sit down but hold on to both plates.

West disappears behind a curtain for a few moments—where I assume the movies and projector are set up—and emerges when the movie’s intro starts playing.

“Do you want soda or water?”

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