You Belong With Me

8 years ago

Lana's POV

 The diner had always held a special place in my heart, not for its food but for the memories that clung to its walls like the scent of fried potatoes. It was where I had shared countless laughs with friends, where secrets felt safe, and where I had first realized that I liked Wes more than just a friend.

 Now, though, it felt bittersweet, a reminder of the innocence I had lost. As I settled into a booth, I couldn't shake the knot in my stomach. It wasn't just the thrill of seeing Wes again; it was the complicated relationship I had developed with food. After all those late nights on tour, surrounded by people yet feeling utterly alone, I had started to think differently about eating. What was once a source of joy had morphed into a constant battle. The pressure to maintain an image felt suffocating, and I often found myself questioning everything: Was it okay to indulge? Did it mean I was losing control?

 I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts aside, but the question Wes had asked lingered like a ghost: What's next for you? The truth was, I didn't know. I had just come off a grueling tour, and while the spotlight had been intoxicating, it had also drained me. I was supposed to be planning my next album, but the thought of writing felt paralyzing. The blank pages of my journal mocked me, each day a new reminder that I couldn't find the words to express what I felt inside. Walking down the familiar street, my mind drifted back to simpler times, back to when Wes and I were twelve, clueless and wide-eyed in seventh grade.

 I could picture the classroom vividly: the chaotic buzz of kids, the scent of dry-erase markers, and the dim light filtering through the windows. It was the day of our biology presentations, and I had been so nervous that my hands shook as I stood in front of the class. As I began to speak, I felt a tug at the back of my chair. My bow—a bright red ribbon that I had tied in my hair—was caught, an embarrassing mishap that threatened to derail my confidence. Panic rose in my chest as I fumbled, unable to free myself. But then I heard a soft voice behind me. 

"Hey, let me help." It was Wes, his brown eyes filled with kindness and understanding. He leaned forward, gently untangling the ribbon from the chair without a hint of judgment. In that moment, time stood still. The warmth of his presence surrounded me, and my heart did a flip as he smiled, his gaze reassuring. "You're doing great," he whispered, and somehow, those words made everything else fade away. I could hardly focus on my presentation, lost in the way he looked at me, as if I were the only one in the room. 

That was the day I first realized I was in love with him.

 Back in the present, I shook off the memory, feeling a mix of nostalgia and sadness. Those moments felt so far away, yet so close, tethered to me like a lifeline. I wasn't just returning home; I was confronting the girl I used to be, the girl who thought anything was possible. As I walked further down the road, a heaviness settled in my chest. I needed to figure out what came next. Maybe facing Wes again was part of that answer, but as I took a deep breath, I felt the uncertainty loom larger than ever. The question lingered: What was I going to do? And then, echoing in my mind like a song I couldn't shake, was the truth that had begun so many years ago: I was in love.