I laugh, shaking my head, feeling like a child—in the best way. In a way I haven’t felt in a long, long while. It feels as if I’ve aged ten years in the past two months. I’m not even sure the last time I giggled before I met Weston.
We need to get back at them somehow.
I’ll begin brainstorming.
Also…you call Carter and Penelope your parents?
I don’t know why the reference caught me off guard. I suppose because I’m desperate to know every single detail about him. Every fragment that makes up who he is.
Weston:
They’re the closest thing I have to parents now.
Willow: I’m happy they found you. So…why are you afraid of the dark?
Weston:
I’m happy they found me too. And I’d tell you, but then you might become afraid of the dark too.
I scramble back into my bedroom, stopping at the lamp on my windowsill and flicking it on. I toss open my curtains before texting him back.
Look outside.
It’s difficult to see across the lawn, but I can just make out a dim light from the guesthouse bedroom behind its shut blinds. They flick open, and the light becomes brighter, Weston’s silhouette visible through the slits.
Hopefully it feels a little less dark now.
If you ever want to talk about it, I don’t scare easily.
If not, I’ll still leave the light on for you.
Weston:
Thanks, Wills.
Another truth: I misjudged you, and I’m sorry.
How so?
Weston:
I assumed you were spoiled and bratty. Maybe selfish. I think you're selfless instead.
I smile at my screen, biting my lip to hold back a schoolgirl laugh.
Lol. Truth: I am spoiled, and I can be bratty when the situation calls.
Weston: Truth: Maybe you deserve to be spoiled so it’s okay. And maybe I like a brat.
Damn. The fire he started in my belly spreads to my core.
Truth: Maybe I like broody surfers after all. My dad always told me to stay away from them.
Weston:
Truth: Your dad told me to stay away from you.
Truth: Maybe I like a rule breaker. Maybe I want to be one.
