Page 13 of When Forever Comes

“Water, please,” I answer.

After grabbing two bottles of water from the mini fridge, he strides over and takes the seat right next to me. I hand him his pizza and he thanks me before we turn our attention to the screen.

He chose an action movie with a romance subplot that keeps me invested.

After we both eat our fill of pizza, we settle back in our seats, our arms brushing. I rest my hand on the knee next to his, hoping he’ll take the hint and lace his fingers in mine. He doesn’t and I ignore the pang of disappointment.

He inches closer to me as the movie plays. His warmth permeates the sweatshirt and jeans I changed into after the game.

Several times, I fight the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. Instead, I focus on the movie and get pulled into the drama unfolding on screen.

After the heroine is kidnapped, the hero goes after the villain and several dramatic fight scenes unfold. The hero wins the final fight and saves the heroine from a cruel fate. The lovers are reunited and despite the hero being covered in blood and dirt, the heroine kisses him as if it’s her last day on earth. The movie ends and the credits roll.

We turn to face each other. I tuck one leg beneath me. I expect him to say something, but he remains silent.

My silent West.

“How do you like Emerald High so far?” I ask.

“The end of my first week was way better than the start,” he answers.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Everyone ignored me all week until this cheerleader showed up under my tree at lunch and invited herself to my house.”

My mouth drops open. “I did not invite myself.” I playfully poke him in the chest. “You invited me.”

He grabs my finger and slides his palm over mine, staring at our hands pressed together. His skin against mine sets my heart racing and head spinning.

“Who said I was talking about you?” His voice is husky.

I pull my hand away, immediately missing our connection, and scoot back. Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “Oh, another one of the cheerleaders invited themselves here tonight?” Despite knowing he’s just teasing me, jealousy churns in my gut.

It vanishes the moment West reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“No. No one else evensawme this week. At least not until you were on my arm.” His fingers linger on my chin and my insides turn to liquid at the gentleness of his touch.

As his hand slips away, his eyes drift down to my lips.

“I guess we’ll see how next week goes. Maybe one of the other cheerleaders will steal you from me.”

“That’s never going to happen.” His eyes scan my face and warmth fills me.

“No?” I ask. My voice is breathless, and I’d be embarrassed if I was with anyone else. West should feel like a stranger. But he doesn’t. Not at all. He feels like my person.

“You’re stuck with me now.” His lips tilt into a half smile.

“Sounds good to me.”

We sit and talk for a long time. Well, I talk, but West opens up a little more. He’s not as tight-lipped as he was at lunch. This boy is a puzzle I enjoy piecing together. After his grandfather clock chimes twelve, I decide I need to get home before my parents get back from their date night and discover I’m not there.

I don’t have a curfew, but tonight is pushing it.

Spending this time with Weston Lockwood was worth it, though.

I slap my hands on my thighs and stand. “Well, I should get home.”

He stands and says, “My mom can drive you.”

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