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“What do you want, Westin?” I ask, my voice a pathetic weak sound that almost gets lost in the space between us. I sound deflated and honestly, I kind of feel that way too.
“You know what I want.” He takes a step toward me.
“Tell me, Westin,” I clip. “Does my father know you're here?”
A brief look of distaste crosses over his perfect features before his cool confidence slips back into place. “No.”
“So then where exactly does he think you are?” I ask, not able to keep the bitchiness from my voice.
“It's none of his business where I am. I took vacation time that I earned. What I do with that time is up to me.”
“And how much time do you have before showing up every time I turn around is no longer an option?”
“I fly back to California on Sunday.” His shoulders sag forward slightly, making him look a little less like the cocky man he portrays, and more like the vulnerable person I know he can be. Or at least he used to be.
“Two days,” I say more to myself, not sure if I want to leap for joy at the thought of getting my life back or drop to my knees at the thought of this being over and never seeing him again.
What do I do?
Do I hold onto my pride and stand by my gut feeling that my father is somehow involved in this? Or do I let go of the past and stop punishing Westin for the mistakes he made when we were kids?
I feel so back and forth with him. So up and down. One minute I want nothing to do with him. The next, I want to run into his arms and beg him to never let me go again. How quickly my mind changes between the two is dizzying.
Deviantbegins to take the stage and behind Westin I can see people filing onto the make shift dance floor. The music kicks in within seconds and Joey's voice filters through the air. I recognize the song as one I’ve heard them play before but can’t for the life of me think of the name of it.
My eyes fall back to Westin and something about the way he's looking back at me causes my reservations to lessen slightly. Is giving him a chance and it not working out really anymore of a risk than not taking the chance at all?
Either way I’ll be miserable.
Westin glances toward the dance floor. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, holding out his hand to me.
“That’s okay.” I shake my head, turning back to watch the guys on stage.
“Come on, Scar. It’s just a dance. You can still hate me when it’s over.” His hand slides into mine, and no matter how badly I want to pull it away, I don’t.
“Good. Because I will,” I grumble, allowing Westin to tug me toward the dance floor.
Westin holds me impossibly tight as he sways my body against his in time with the slow beat booming from the large speakers that surround the stage. There’s something so exciting about being held this way and something so familiar about it too.
“Prom,” I say aloud, pulling my cheek away from his chest to stare up at his impossibly handsome face.
“Prom?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, a confused and yet completely adorable smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.
“I kept thinking how familiar this seemed. Prom. Remember? We stayed on the dance floor the entire night. I was the envy of all the senior girls that were so pissed that you brought a sophomore to prom.”
“And I was the envy of every man in attendance, just like I am tonight.” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Because you were, and still are, the most beautiful woman in the room.” A shiver runs down my spine as his hot breath tickles against my neck, causing my skin to prickle. “I still remember the dress you wore.” He pulls back to stare down at me, the palm of his hand skirting across my lower back. “The way the pale pink looked against your skin. You were perfect.”
I want to come back with some witty retort as to how I wasn't too perfect for him to abandon weeks later, but I can't bring myself to do it. This moment, it's everything I have dreamt of, and no amount of pride or doubt will let me be anything but grateful to be here with him like this, even if it can only last a short time.
The song eventually winds down, replaced by a much faster one. I abruptly step out of Westin's embrace and make my way off the dance floor. I know he's following closely behind me, but I don't turn around to face him until I’m clear of the majority of the crowd.
“You hungry?” he asks, gesturing toward a line of food trucks to our right.
“Not really.”
“Oh come on! Festival food is the best and you know it.”
“Still addicted to funnel cakes and French fries, I’m guessing.” I cock a brow. “I never understood how you could eat that junk.”
