Page 57 of The Last Special Thing

Weston raised an eyebrow knowingly.

“Yeah, we will probably dress up together.” She dropped her eyes and smoothed out the comforter. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Having a new boyfriend while remaining friends with her ex was impossible. If she could make it work for the rest of the summer, it would resolve itself in the fall.

Weston didn’t say anything further. Instead turned on one of his anime shows, not bothering to ask her what she wanted to watch.

First love was a different kind of love. It was innocence and comfort. The thrill of brushing fingers while reaching for popcorn in a theater and the exhilaration of being asked to the Homecoming dance with Hershey kisses.

Amelia unequivocally wanted to be with Art, but that didn’t erase the feelings of comfort Weston brought to her. They spent two years together. Dating or not, she valued him in her life. She didn’t want to hurt him just because she had moved on first.

There was a knock on the slider door, and Amelia’s eyes broke from the TV screen and his silly show.

“Weston! What a pleasure to see you.” Lauren glowed.

Weston stood with his shoulders back, the epitome of respect. “You too, Mrs. Cox.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Lauren looked between the two.

It would be an olive branch, and Amelia had nowhere else to be. Lauren had given her the silent treatment for a full twenty-four hours after Amelia announced she wouldn’t be home on Saturday because she was attending a music festival.

“You’ll learn that I’m right,” were the last words her mom spoke to her that day.

Weston looked at Amelia, and she shrugged in indifference.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Weston told Lauren.

An hour later at the dinner table, Amelia’s parents asked Weston about MIT. He beamed as he talked about his next chapter. They laughed when he admitted he was more nervous about the cold than the classes. He asked about Lauren’s clients, cracked jokes with James about AI, and went back for seconds. Their voices filled the dining room, and Amelia tried to remember the last time she’d made the effort for a family dinner.

Across the table, James leaned toward Weston, chin resting thoughtfully on his knuckles. “So what do you think about the U.S. getting involved in this war?”

“There’s a lot that we aren’t privy to, but from what I’ve learned, it could have been avoided,” Weston retorted and shoveled another bite of lasagna.

Amelia and James had little in common, but when James spoke with Weston, she had his approval. The two shared similar interests, and Weston was the kind of person they wanted her to marry. They made that perfectly clear.

After an apple turnover dessert, Amelia walked Weston to the edge of the driveway.

He pulled her into a tight hug, and she breathed him in. It wasn’t a quick hug. Maybe she should have let go, but she remained in his arms. At the edge of her old life, she let her cheek press against his chest and stayed, enjoying the warmth.

When his arms fell to his side, his eyes fixed on hers, searching.

“You’re going to be okay without me,” she said, the words for both of them.

“I’ve only got a few more weeks before I go,” he said. He dropped his gaze as he kicked a pebble and then looked back at her. “I want to see you again.”

She nodded, and his mouth twisted in the corner, like he wasn’t sure he believed her.

In the soft glow of the street lights, he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for his house. The path they had walked together hundreds of times, he walked alone.

Back in her room, the silence was crushing. She called Art, but he didn’t answer. He must have still been at band practice.

She called Madisson, who did answer, but was flirting with Max during the call. Amelia hung up on her.

She settled on turning on an HBO drama for background noise to keep her company. Lying in bed, she imagined various scenarios of bringing Art to her house. They could skinny dip in her pool. They could fuck all day in her California King bed and break to make margaritas and towers of nachos. They would laugh, and at night, he would tell her his plans to take her on a tour of the world with him. A summer trip abroad. Tuscany on a Tuesday. The fantasies played as she drifted to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

On Saturday, after the group had joked, dressed, and gathered their snacks for the rave, Amelia drove Max, Madisson, Reyna, and Art the three hours to the venue. Art was Amelia’s best copilot. He had the map pulled up on the dashboard screen and took music requests from the back seat. At a red light, he passed Amelia a lemon chapstick, which she used, then traded it for an Arizona green tea. He anticipated her needs before she did.