Wanting Wes

Chapter 2

Laurel POV

What do you wear to a school reunion anyway? My room is a mess, boxes still unpacked, clothing everywhere from all the outfits I decided were not it. My hands are sweaty, nerves. I bought the ticket two nights ago as I lay awake in my highschool bedroom.

My life has been turned upside down the last few months. And in a moment of longing I spent the $150 on the ticket not knowing if my friends would be there too. But it seemed easier to show up to the reunion and "bump" into them than to explain myself.

Now it seems desperate.

"Knock knock." My dad's voice sounds from the hallway.

"Come in." I mutter, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "Are jeans too casual?"

My dad smiles, "you look great."

"That's not what I asked dad." I groan. "This place looks fancy. I don't want to be underdressed but also if everyone isn't dressed up I don't want to be over dressed."

It also doesn't help that hardly anything fits.

"Laurel, sweetheart." My dad meets me in the mirror. "Wear whatever you're comfortable in."

But that's the thing. I'm not comfortable in anything.

"What if they hate me?" My real fears start to spill out. "I'm the worst friend."

He wraps me in a hug and I sink into him. "They don't hate you. How could anyone hate you?"

I scoff but I make no move to end our hug. There's a whole list of reasons why they could hate me.

"Come on, let me see the options. I'll help you pick." My dad offers.

It makes me laugh, a genuine laugh.

"Hey I know fashion." He defends himself, letting me go as he plucks a dress off the floor and holds it up to himself. "This is very fashionable with the slit and the wrinkle detail here on the sides, the ripple...roo...who cares what it's called."

"Ruching dad." I laugh, taking the dress from him and tossing it on my bed. "I think I'll just go with these instead."

I hold up a pair of palazzo pants. They stretch and they're comfortable.

"Ya know I was going to say those would be perfect." He says, a grin spread across his face. "Thank god I came and checked on you."

It's a defeated sort of smile that tugs at the corner of my lips. The idea that I need to be checked on.

"You look beautiful Laurel but mom should be home in a few minutes if you need a second opinion." He offers.

"Thanks." I try not to let my sadness show as I smile.

He leaves me alone and as I swap the jeans out for the palazzo's, I avoid watching myself too closely in the mirror. I don't want to see the scars that riddle my arms, the ones scratched into my thighs. They're all healed, they've been healed but I can't quite find the pride in that. All I see is failure.

I pull on a long sleeve shirt, tucking it into the waist and tousle my long strawberry blond hair before I slip from my room.

The reunion has already started, I'll be late. Intentionally late. The thought of showing up and none of my friends being there yet nearly stopped me from going all together. At least if I'm late, there's a better chance of them being there. Wes and his schedules and all.

I reach the bottom of the stairs as my mom's voice enters the house and a few short minutes later I'm through the door and into my car, nerves eating me alive.

The drive to the banquet hall doesn't take that long. A quick drive to the center of town where it sits nestled on a street just off the beaten drive. It's a large building with manicured landscaping. The building a blend of lavish neutrality.

My phone has a missed call from Ellie and Savannah, both of which I didn't answer. I also haven't listened to the voicemails, afraid of what they might say. And I have no clue what anyone is driving these days, my own car a recent purchase because I abandoned almost everything from my former life.

"Okay Laurel." I say to myself, peeling my hands from the steering wheel. "You didn't come to just sit in the damn parking lot."

Besides if it turns out my friends aren't here, I can just leave.

"Get out." But my body doesn't want to move.

What if I walk in there and they hate me. Won't talk to me. Won't look at me. What if I messed everything up? I know I've been a flaky friend the past several years. I've been distant, coming up with excuses to hide the real reasons.

Maybe they've had enough of me.

I mean they're all thriving. I see their social media posts. Ellie and Darren happily married with their new dog. They've been staying in different places, uprooting themselves once or twice a year. Savannah has a boyfriend, he is always gushing about how talented she is and how lucky he is to have her. Brett and James fostering kids, out and proud and everything Brett never was in highschool. Even Wes, he works at a record label, handsome like he's always been.

And then there's me and I'm completely washed up.

I can feel the nag that lives deep within me rise up at my discomfort. The voice inside my head that tries to tell me there's a way to fix it, to make it right. It begs me to remember the relief, the control, the calm that came after the storm. But shame clings to the control. Embarrassment clouded in the calm.

So instead, I shove open the door to my car and climb out. Tugging at my clothes to straighten them and ease some of my nerves, I pull the cool, distant front I hide behind down and head for the doors.