You Belong With Me

Dinner?

**Lana's POV**After a few hours of overthinking every possible outcome, I find myself heading down to Wes's apartment. My heart pounds as I lift my hand to knock. I need to clear things up, to tell him it was just a silly high school crush and that last night was nothing more than a drunken slip-up. But the second the door opens and Wes's familiar, slightly surprised face appears, every bit of confidence I'd summoned slips away."Hey, Wes," I say, trying to keep my voice light. "I was, um... wondering if you'd like to go to dinner tonight. You know, just to... talk."His eyebrows raise slightly, and he hesitates before nodding. "Yeah, sure. Dinner sounds good."We stand there for a moment, the silence stretching and filling the space with an awkward tension. I try to smile, but it feels forced, and I can't quite meet his gaze. He clears his throat, shifting slightly, and I realize I'm still just standing there."Alright, then. I'll, uh... see you at seven?" I finally manage."Yeah. Seven," he agrees, giving me a quick nod before closing the door, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.Back in my apartment, I feel a wave of nerves crash over me. I need to get this right—make it clear that last night was just a one-time thing, an embarrassing moment that we can both forget. But my mind keeps drifting, thoughts tangling into knots. This dinner needs to go perfectly if I want to salvage any sort of normalcy between us.I head to my closet and pull out my favorite black dress, the one that clings just enough to be flattering without looking like I'm trying too hard. I pick a pair of heels that give me a little extra height, and as I look at myself in the mirror, I debate between wearing my hair up or down. I finally decide on loose curls, letting them fall around my shoulders in soft waves. As I start on my makeup, I go for a more natural look—soft eyeshadow in shades of taupe and champagne, a touch of blush to give me some color, and a nude lipstick that brings everything together. I glance in the mirror, giving myself one final look. I feel like I'm dressing up for an apology, like every detail matters in convincing him that I didn't mean anything by my confession last night.As the clock ticks closer to seven, my anxiety rises. I remind myself over and over that this dinner is just a way to make things right. Nothing more.Finally, I make my way down to the lobby, where Wes is waiting. He looks put together, yet there's a hint of tension in his stance. The moment we step outside, I freeze. Flashes go off in every direction, cameras clicking, voices calling out my name. Dozens—no, hundreds—of photographers line the street, shouting questions as they try to get a shot."Lana! Lana, over here!""What's going on with you and Wes?"I feel Wes's hand lightly touch my back as he guides me to the waiting limo, and I catch a look of concern on his face as he glances at me. Once we're safely inside, he turns to me, his brows drawn together."Lana... are you alright? How do you handle that?"I shrug, trying to seem casual, even though my heart's still racing. "It's just part of the job, I guess. You get used to it."Wes frowns, looking unconvinced. "I don't think I'd ever get used to that."I give him a small, reassuring smile, trying to shrug off the nerves. But the car falls into an awkward silence as we start moving. I can feel the tension between us, thick and heavy, and I don't know how to break it.---**Wes's POV**As I'm getting ready, I can't shake the sense that tonight will be... complicated. The more I think about last night, the more questions I have. Lana's confession, as messy as it was, stuck with me. It felt like there was something real in her words, something we'd never talked about. I don't know if tonight is supposed to clear the air or if she'll just pretend none of it happened.I put on a classic button-down and dark slacks, keeping it simple but polished. I even try to comb my hair a little better than usual, then pause in the mirror, almost laughing at myself. Why am I trying so hard for this?When I head down to meet her, the moment we step outside, it's chaos. Cameras flash, people shout her name, and she barely seems fazed, like this is completely normal. I glance at her, worried, but she just gives me a little shrug, like all of this is just another Tuesday. I can't help feeling unsettled, wondering how she manages to keep her cool when everyone seems so eager to tear apart every detail of her life.We get into the limo, and I realize I haven't even had the chance to ask her if she's alright. The truth is, seeing her surrounded by all those people, with everyone watching her every move, made me feel a bit... protective, maybe. I don't know how she handles it.