Jamie McGuire - Happenstance

Once I closed my book and packed away my things, he excitedly returned his focus to me. “Do you want to watch Triple Thunder, or The Dark House on the Hill?”

“Both sound equally . . . entertaining.”

“Triple Thunder it is.” He pushed a button on the remote, and the screen turned black for a moment. He chose a few more options; then the movie began, opening with a sweaty guy running for his life in a desert.

Halfway through the movie, Weston leaned back against the couch cushion, his size twelves crossed at the ankle on top of the ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. I had a more difficult time relaxing.

Weston looked over at me, back at the television, and then back at me.

“What?”

“You’re so uptight. Do you want me to take you home?”

“I just . . . I don’t think your mom likes that I’m here. And I . . .”

Weston’s phone chirped. Alder’s name lit up the display. He read the text in less than a second, then shot one back.

“What if your mom mentions to Alder that I was here?”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“She doesn’t want Alder to be mad at me. She’s already envisioning Gates-Alderman grandchildren.”

My face screwed into disgust. “You should probably take me home.”

He sat up. “Why? You don’t like the movie?”

“It’s not okay for me to be here. You have a girlfriend, and we’re . . .”

“Sneaking around?” Weston said with a sweet grin. “Fine.” He picked up his phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked while he tapped out a message.

“Breaking up with Alder.”

I grabbed his phone and held it away from him. “Are you trying to make things worse?”

“No. But you telling me you won’t hang out with me because of a girl I don’t even like anymore . . . that’s an easy fix.”

“Why would you stay with someone you don’t like for five years?”

He shrugged. “Something to do, I guess. She’s not ugly.”

“No,” I said, sighing. “She’s not. You sound like a huge asshole right now.”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“No, you can just take me home.”

He groaned, and then sat up, facing me. “My parents have been married for twenty years, and they don’t really like each other.” He paused, and when he realized I wasn’t satisfied, he continued, “I liked her at first, but I never liked the way she treated people. You, in particular. When I talked to her about you, she just seemed to treat you worse. But every time I thought about breaking it off with her, the drama I knew would follow didn’t sound all that appealing.”

“Five years is a long time,” I said.

“You have no idea.”

“So are you just going to wait until you leave for college?”

“That was the plan, but now I kind of want to do it sooner.” He leaned toward me, and I leaned away. He snorted. “You’re really going to make me do this by the book, aren’t you?”

“I’m not making you do anything,” I said, handing him back his phone.

“You’re making me miss this movie.”

I glanced at the television. “It’s paused.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a smile, pushing a button. The violence ensued, along with screaming, gun shots, and helicopter blades whirring in the air. Weston settled back into the cushions again, and I did the same.

He looked down at his phone, still in his hand. “What’s your number, anyway?”

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

“Landline?”

“Nope.”

Weston frowned, but kept his eyes on the television screen. “Do you like hanging out with me?”

I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right. “Yes?”

“Not because you don’t have anyone else to hang out with?”

“I have other people to hang out with.”

“Frankie?”

“Yes.”

“What if I wasn’t with Alder? Would you . . .?” He stared at the TV.

“Would I what?”

“Let me kiss you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure you’d enjoy it.”

He turned to me. “What makes you say that?”

“I haven’t had a lot of practice. None, actually.” I could feel my face heat up. I preferred to tell the truth, but it wasn’t always easy.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before,” he said, as more of a statement than a question.

“So?”

He stared at my lips and readjusted so he could look straight ahead again. “I’m available whenever. If you want to practice.” He was purposefully keeping his face smooth, but he wasn’t doing a very good job because the corner of his mouth kept trying to curl up.

“I don’t want to practice. I want a real first kiss. And not from a guy who’s cheating on his girlfriend.”

He frowned. “I told you I’d break up with her. You don’t want me to.”

“We’d never have a moment of peace. The whole school would freak out, and I’m pretty sure your mom would, too.”

“Is that why you don’t want me to break up with her? Or is it because you just don’t want me?”

I kept quiet, and the air in the room became thick and stuffy. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Weston squirmed while he waited for my answer.

“I’ve thought you were kind of amazing since kindergarten,” I said.

He peeked over at me and grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With his eyes back on the television, he spoke softly and nervously. “Me, too. About you.”

I nodded, and we watched the rest of the movie without another word.

When it was over, Weston put on his jacket, picked up my backpack, and walked me upstairs. He snatched his keys from the kitchen counter. We made our way outside into the chilly night air. Weston pulled off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm and smelled like him, and I pulled it tighter around me. Weston helped me climb into the passenger seat. Before he could round the front of the truck, his parents came outside to talk to him.

Their conversation immediately looked tense, and Weston kept stealing glances at me. He put his hands on his hips, shifted his weight nervously, and shook his head a lot. He was beginning to look angry. I wished he didn’t have automatic windows so I could roll mine down to hear what they were saying.

Finally, his parents turned to go inside, and Weston joined me in the truck.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“Don’t be.”

“No, that’s just fucking rude to do that in front of you. They could have waited.”

“What did they say?”

He shook his head and backed out of the drive. When he pulled onto the street, I reached over and touched my fingertips to his. He intertwined his fingers in mine.

“What did they say, Weston?”

He sighed. “They’re concerned about my new friend. They don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be spending time alone with you because of Alder.”

“They’re right.”

He squeezed my fingers. “I can’t give you up now. When we spend time together, I feel this peace that I don’t get when you’re not around. It’s kind of like when you’re a kid, and you put on fresh PJs after a bath and get into a made bed with clean sheets straight out of the dryer. That’s what being with you feels like.”

My eyebrows lifted, and a surprised, appreciative smile swept across my face. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“It shouldn’t be. You’re so good, Erin. You’re just . . . good. You don’t deserve the way they treat you, and I don’t even know why they do it.”

“I don’t know, either. One day, they just stopped talking to me, and then the silence turned into anger.”

“That’s so weird. I don’t get it.”

The Chevy pulled into my gravel drive, and Weston put the gear into park.

I leaned back and stretched. “Just one more day before Spring Break. After that we have five weeks before graduation. None of this will matter after that.”

“Are you . . . are you going to prom?” he asked.

I laughed once. It was shrill, and it even surprised me. “No,” I said, amused.

“Would you want to go with me?”

“You’re going with Alder.”

“I haven’t asked her, yet. Everyone just assumes we’re going together. Even her.”

“I . . .” I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t have a dress. I wouldn’t even know where to look. And I don’t have the money, anyway.”

“Okay. Don’t freak out. Just think about it. If you want to go, we’ll figure something out.”

I swallowed, hard. “You’re freaking me out. I’m not sure how to feel about all of this.”

Weston lifted my hand and touched his lips to my fingers. “We’re just winging it, remember?”

I pulled the door handle and jumped down to the grass below, then pulled his jacket from my shoulders.

“Hang on to it for me.”

I tossed it into his truck. “I have a jacket. Thank you.”

He smirked. “Not one that smells like me.”

“Are you afraid I’m going to forget about you overnight?” I teased, trying to hide my embarrassment that he’d spoken my private thought.

He pointed to his chest. “This? No way!”

Weston waved to me as he pulled away, and I walked into my house, still giggling. It was dark and quiet. I crept into my room and let my backpack fall to the carpet, and crawled straight into bed. I was too tired to take a shower or even brush my teeth. I just wanted to lie between the sheets and replay what Weston said about how I made him feel over and over again in my head. It was like a dream, one that I would inevitably wake up from soon. Something was going to come along and take it all away, because things like this didn’t happen to me.