Things had gotten way too heated, and I had been way too open. Way too honest with him. And it couldn’t have been just due to his pretty face and kind smile. Something about Weston made my muscles relaxed and jaw unclenched. However, underneath all his charisma, there was something more. Something that got him in a decent amount of trouble. I knew myself well enough to understand trouble was something I needed to avoid, especially at this point in my life.
“You look beautiful today,” he told me as he hopped off the sill and started over to our two-seated desk.
God, maybe itwasthe pretty face and kind smile and that he was consistent in making me feel seen. When the compliment left his mouth, a few other students trailed in. They looked me over in wonder. Who was the girl Weston Briggs called beautiful?
No one.
“Thanks,” I mumbled and started unpacking my heavy backpack. I tried to look nice today. Like really tried, since I knew I was going to see him.
My first goal last night was to not cry. My eyes were clear and de-puffed enough for me to accurately apply mascara. The blue, knee-length wrap dress I wore hugged at my curves. It was one of my favorite pieces of clothing because it was the most forgiving. Since I transferred to Westbrooke University last semester, I'd gained ten pounds. My hips and thighs grew out of all my jeans. The extra weight looked cute in my flowy dresses, so I embraced the new feminine look.
The fresh look got me new attention from the opposite sex. When walking around campus, I practiced keeping my head up when men watched. I wasn’t always successful, but practicing was a baby step. Some people snickered, and I was used to that since all throughout my childhood I was overweight. But, more recently, men tracked me with wondering gazes. Admiration based on my looks wasn’t something I was used to experiencing.
Despite the wondering looks, no guy at school dared to approach me with any interest… until Weston.
“About the other night,” Weston started as sat next to me. His familiar scent filled up space in between us.
“Morning, West,” a girl who sat near us greeted. She wore her red hair in a French braid with small, decorative flowers. Her pastel dress clung to her waist and was lined with white lace. She always said “good morning” to everyone near her except for me. But, for the first time all semester, I looked up at her and she offered me a warm smile.
With a small wave, she said, “Morning, Covee.”
I was too surprised to do anything but nod. She sounded sweet and seemed like the type of person who you’d want to invite over for a tea party or ask to decorate your living room because her taste surely eclipsed one’s own.
“Hey, Callie,” Weston said with his eyes still on me.
“Lawrence is looking for you,” she told him.
Weston leaned back into his seat and casually draped his arm across the back of my chair while turning his gaze towards her. “Tell him he knows where to find me.”
Callie eyed his arm for a split second. If someone wasn’t paying close attention, then they would have missed the slight crease in her forehead. But I noticed. She was quick to wipe any sign of confusion as she continued, “You have a game in a few weeks, right? On a Saturday?”
Weston rubbed his free hand on his jaw. “Sure.”
I tried to keep my face neutral when I snuck a glance at him. He met my eyes, practically daring me to mention the probation. So, it was a secret and one he hid from a peer that seemed to know him.
“Madison Brew's afterward,” she told him sternly. “We’re celebrating and you’re my date.”
“Is that a request?” he teased.
I shifted in my seat, unsure if I should’ve opened my laptop and pretended to be busy. It was hard to tell if they were flirting. Weston looked impressed by Callie’s bravery. Callie’s eyelashes batted with the proper balance of sweet and daring. My stomach twisted with an embarrassing twinge of jealousy.
Instead of going down the hole of comparison, I took myself out of the equation. I’d been the one to end things last night, after all. He was free to flirt with whoever he wanted. Instead of comparing, I mentally ran through a to-do list of everything we needed to do to get an A on our graphic design project.
Callie gave Weston a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re not good with requests. Just be there.”
She went to go talk to a goth girl in the classroom’s front row. I watched her dress sway back and forth as she left and wondered if I’d ever dare to tell a guy he was going out with me.
“She’s cute,” I noted, trying to sound casual. Just because we made out didn’t mean we couldn’t have a light conversation. Now that we’d actually started addressing each other in class, I didn’t want to stop. And I didn’t want things to get awkward.
“Cute?” He repeated while glancing over at Callie as if he hadn’t already considered her looks. “Sure.”
I bit my inner cheek, trying to think of something in response. Professor Ida walked in with her morning tea in hand, filling the room with the overpowering scent of lavender and honey. Her presence let us off the hook from talking for a few minutes.
“Covee,” Weston said in a hushed tone. His arm still wrapped around the back of my chair and now, he leaned closer toward me. “I want you to take you out. We can get to know each other.”
I didn’t take my eyes off our professor. She was going through attendance now. I raised my hand once she read off my name.
“I’m not sure that’s wise,” I said. “I don’t know if you and I should do… going out.”
