Page 36 of The Last Special Thing

“Goodnight, Princess,” he purred, brushing back a lock of her hair with his thumb.

“Goodnight,” she responded weakly.

He turned and half-jogged a few steps to catch up with Bryan. Not even three feet away, he looked over his shoulder and winked at her. A smile rose on her face.

Until she heard Weston. “What the fuck was that?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Afoot from the apartment door, Weston’s stoned eyes burned into her.

"What the actual fuck was that, Amelia?" he repeated as if it were a plot twist in what used to be their love story.

She took a deep breath, stilling her rising anxiety. It was no longer about her and Weston.

“Art and I are dating.” Amelia forced the words out simply. Direct was always best with Weston. He could never pick up on context clues or subtleties.

“That guy?” He nodded to where Art had been. “That’s the guy you want to be with?”

She knew what Weston saw–the long hair, clothes that didn’t quite fit right, a pair of tattered shoes.

But she also knew what Weston didn’t see. Art would open doors for her, draw hearts on her window, and make a playlist before they even had a date. She had known that Weston wasn’t an affectionate person and had grown accustomed to that. But it was nice to have romance.

“You don’t know him,” she stated, strutting past Weston toward the car. The sun was long gone, and a gust of wind rubbed against her.

Weston laughed behind her. The sound was sharp and out of character, stopping her in the middle of the complex. She spun around.

“What is your problem?” She spat the words out with arms pulled across her chest to protect her from both the cold and whatever verbal attack Weston was preparing for.

“I have no problem. If that’s my competition, okay.” There was a smile on his face that she wanted to slap off.

“Your competition?” she asked.

“You’ve been trying to make me jealous since we broke up. Congratulations, you did it.” He walked to the middle of the complex courtyard where she had stopped.

“I’m not trying to make you jealous.”

“Didn’t you want to get back together?”

Silence stretched across the night. “I did.”

“Okay, then we can figure it out.” He walked past her to the car. It was settled for him.

“You didn’t want to do long distance.” She dropped her arms to her side and turned to walk in step with him.

“It’s not great, but it’ll be fine.” For him, the conversation had concluded.

“It’ll be fine?” she clarified, eyebrows knitting together.

“Sure, we’ll see how it goes.”

“You want to get back together, right now?”

The conversation spun in a way that Amelia could have never predicted, no matter how many imaginary conversations ran through her mind on the car ride over.

“That’s what you want.” He put his hand on the driver’s side door.

“You think that my kissing another guy means I want to get back together?”