You Belong With Me

It should be over

**Lana's POV**The restaurant is quiet and dimly lit, with soft, warm lights casting a golden glow over each table. I take a deep breath as we're led to our table, trying to quell the butterflies flitting around in my stomach. Wes pulls my chair out for me, and I offer him a small smile before sitting down, my fingers fiddling with the edges of my napkin as he takes the seat across from me. I'm hyper-aware of every little thing—the quiet hum of people talking around us, the smooth feel of the tablecloth, the flicker of candlelight on his face as he settles in. It's all oddly intimate, and I wonder if he feels it too.I open the menu, pretending to study it closely, even though I already know I'm not ordering much. My appetite has been temperamental lately. Wes orders a water and a burger with fries without even glancing at the menu, his voice steady and easy, like this is just another dinner. I follow his lead, ordering a water and a small salad. I catch his raised eyebrow as he hears my choice, but he says nothing. We fall into small talk—the kind of polite conversation you'd have on a first date with someone you barely know. He tells me a little about practice, about settling into the NFL and life in Kansas City, and I nod along, trying to act relaxed.But I can feel a tension underneath it all, like we're both tiptoeing around the real reason we're here.The waitress brings our drinks, and I take a long sip of water, hoping it'll settle my nerves. I try to keep up with the conversation, but my mind is drifting. My fingers curl around the glass, and I stare down at the condensation pooling on the table, my reflection staring back at me through the ripples of water. I think about the salad I ordered, how I'm not really hungry, but how I'll probably force myself to eat it anyway so that Wes won't worry. I wonder if he's noticed the way I've been barely eating, the way I push food around my plate when we're together. I've always been careful about it, telling myself that it's part of the job, that it's necessary. But lately, it's felt like more than that, like I'm trapped in this cycle that I can't break out of. Every bite feels like a battle, every meal a test of willpower.I feel a strange twist in my stomach, a mix of shame and frustration. It's something I don't talk about, something I've buried deep inside, but tonight, under Wes's watchful gaze, it feels like all my insecurities are laid bare. I don't want him to see this side of me, the side that's scared of losing control. The side that worries endlessly about fitting into this mold, about being "perfect" in the eyes of everyone around me. The more I think about it, the more I feel this sick feeling creeping in, a tightness in my chest that I can't quite shake."Lana?"Wes's voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up, startled. He's watching me with a slight frown, his brow creased with worry."Sorry," I mumble, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking.""Thinking about what?" he asks, his tone soft, like he's genuinely curious, maybe even concerned. His gaze is steady, and for a second, I feel like I could tell him anything. But I shake my head, brushing it off."Nothing important," I say lightly, though my heart is pounding.Wes doesn't press further, but he doesn't look entirely convinced either. He takes a bite of his burger, chewing slowly, as if waiting for me to say something more. I glance down at my salad, pushing a few leaves around with my fork, feeling the weight of everything unsaid settling heavily between us.After a moment, he puts his burger down, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Lana," he starts, and I can tell by his tone that he's about to bring up the real reason we're here.I brace myself, my fingers clenching around my fork. This is it—the conversation I've been dreading and anticipating all at once. He clears his throat, looking down at his hands for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet mine."Last night..." he begins, his voice hesitant. "You said some things that... surprised me."My heart starts racing, and I can feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. I knew this was coming, but hearing him actually say it makes everything feel painfully real. I look down, unable to meet his eyes."I just..." I take a deep breath, forcing myself to keep going. "I didn't mean to—well, I did mean it, but I didn't mean to say it like that. It's... complicated."He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving me. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"I let out a shaky laugh, shaking my head. "I don't know. I guess I was scared... or maybe I thought you'd never feel the same way."Wes stays silent, and the quiet stretches out, filling the space between us. I feel my chest tighten, that familiar ache of vulnerability making it hard to breathe. But I need to get this out, need him to understand what he meant to me, even if he doesn't feel the same way."When we first met... I knew," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I knew I liked you. And it wasn't just some high school crush—it was more than that. I... I was crazy about you, Wes. For years, I thought about you every single day, wondering what could have been if I'd just... said something. But I was too afraid, too wrapped up in everything else, and I kept telling myself that you'd never look at me that way. So I buried it, pretended it didn't matter. But it did. It mattered so much more than I ever let on."The words tumble out of me in a rush, and by the time I finish, I'm almost breathless, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. I finally lift my gaze to meet his, searching his face for any sign of what he's feeling. But he's quiet, his expression unreadable, and a cold wave of fear washes over me.I can't take the silence. It feels like a rejection, like he's standing there with nothing to say because he doesn't feel the same way, because he never did. I swallow hard, my throat tight, and push my chair back, standing up."Clearly you don't feel anything," I say, my voice shaking. "I shouldn't have... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of this up."I turn, intending to walk away, to get as far from this painful moment as possible, but before I can take another step, I feel his hand on my arm. He pulls me back gently, and I turn to face him, my breath catching as I see the look in his eyes—soft and intense, a mixture of emotions that I can't quite decipher."Lana, wait," he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. "Don't go."I stare at him, my heart hammering in my chest as the world seems to fade around us. There's a strange stillness, a moment suspended in time, as he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger on my cheek, and I feel a warmth spread through me, melting away the fear and doubt that's been gnawing at me.And then, under the soft, magical glow of the restaurant lights, he leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that's gentle yet filled with a depth of feeling I'd never imagined. It's like everything I've been waiting for, every unspoken wish, coming true in this single, breathtaking moment.When he pulls back, his eyes meet mine, and I can see the truth shining there—the same emotions that I've kept buried for so long, mirrored in his gaze."I do feel something, Lana," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "I always have."A smile spreads across my face, and for the first time, I feel like everything is exactly where it's supposed to be.