Page 97 of The Last Special Thing

UCLA was everything she wanted. She couldn’t put the dreams she had been working towards her whole life on pause. She needed to be in L.A.

Her dad shrugged. “Go meet Georgina in Italy and figure out your next steps. I’m sure we can work out a deferral.”

Weston shifted in his chair and dragged his fork across his meat, but had yet to take a bite.

“I’m not going to do that,” she said quietly.

“You will.” James ended the conversation.

She met her parents' eyes, tears prickling in rage. She wouldn’t do it. They never cared about her dreams. Of course, it was easier to ship her off to Europe and not deal with her. Amelia pushed back her chair, purposely screeching it against the wooden floor.

“I said I’m not going.” She left the house, letting the oversized door slam behind her.

It creaked open, and footsteps followed in the night. Her car sat in the driveway. She could go somewhere. Get the hell out of town.

She walked past it. She had nowhere to go and hated the thought of it. Hated that her parents knew about her experimental drug use. Hated that she considered Weston a friend, and he went to her mom. She let him in, let him help her, and he betrayed her. Her blood was boiling.

“Amelia, wait!” Weston’s voice was filled with anguish.

She spun in fury. “How could you do this?”

“He’s not good for you.” He reached towards her. Stepping back, she let his hand drop to his side. Regret covered his face, but she couldn’t decipher which part he regretted. For what he did now? Or the breakup all those months ago?

“You had me.” She breathed to still her rapid heartbeat. “You said it–you should have loved me when I loved you. It’s too late.”

He let out an agonized groan. “How many times do I have to apologize? Stop pushing me away. I’ve paid the price. I’ve watched you all summer with him. Come back to me where you belong.”

Maybe he meant it to be a comforting phrase, but at the word belong, he lost any remaining ground. She belonged to no one. Not him. Not Art. Not her parents.

She shook her head, refusing to accept anything he had to offer her.

“You can’t tell me that kiss meant nothing,” he tried again.

“I was on fucking DRUGS, Weston.” Her fingers splayed in frustration. “As you so kindly pointed out to my parents tonight.”

“Then why did you tell me you wished things were different on the car ride back to his place?” Weston said with a pained expression.

Amelia faltered. Had she said that?

“I don’t know,” she replied. She could have meant it a dozen ways. She did wish she had been a better friend to Weston this summer, as he had been to her after her breakup.

Weston shook his head in exasperation. “I’m not sorry I told them. I didn’t know what else to do. I can’t go away to MIT and leave you here with him when I can’t protect you. I know you still love me. Love doesn’t go away like that.”

“I don’t love you.” Her voice broke. The words would hurt him even though they were true.

He looked up at the streetlights, at the stars even higher above.

“What changed?” Weston asked.

“He changed me.”

“That is such bullshit.”

“I’m a different person now.”

“You’re the same fucking person! I know you!”

They fell into their pattern of trading sentences without resolution.