Well Beyond Expectation

Chapter Ten.

Lena

           

Weston walks me out of the mall and to the car, being weird, even for him. When we reached the car he even stepped ahead of me and pulled the door open for me to step inside, motioning with his hand like he was an old school chauffer from a movie or something.

As he closed the door behind me I swiveled in my seat to watch him walk around the back of the car, shaking his head at himself and saying something under his breath the whole way before he dropped into his seat beside me. He kept his eyes forward and rubbed his palms against his pants legs almost like he was nervous or had sweaty hands. But why would he be? I actually laughed a little at myself for even thinking something so ridiculous.

As soon as the small giggle was out, his head was turned towards me, his eyes narrowing. "What's so funny?" He demands, the tips of his ears turning a light red.

Wow, he actually is nervous about something. 

Dropping my eyes I feel my cheeks heat up a little so I look out my window, letting my freshly done hair fall between us where he couldn't study my face, not that he would in the first place. "Nothing." I try to say coolly.

We fall quiet for a minute and I find myself wondering how the heck I got myself here. A couple of hours ago I was crying on the side of the road covered in mud, and now I'm sitting nervously in the car of my enemy wearing a $375 dress with my hair and makeup done like I'm going to be in a fashion show in a few minutes.

"So..." I turn back to him slowly, finding him already looking my way. "What are we doing?"

He swallows back hard, leaning into his seat. "Um, I guess whatever you want to do."

"I thought you had a plan?" I point out, raising an eye brow.

He shrugs casually and sits back up. "Yeah well, you know I'm always full of shit." He admits with a coy smile. "So give me an idea, what do you want to do now?"

Am I imagining the way he just leaned in a little?

"You could always-."

"I AM NOT TAKING YOU HOME!" He shouts red faced and I lean forward in an unexpected bout of laughter.

I try to reign it in but it's been so long since I've had a good laugh that I can't seem to quit now that I've started again. "Ok..." I grind out words between giggles. "I'm...hungry..."

"Would you stop?" Weston just shakes his head at me for a second, trying hard to hold back his smile as he watches me. He starts to laugh a little too after a moment and he turns to shove the key into the ignition and start the car. "Stop laughing like that or we are going to crash and I am too hungry to die right now." He smiles, but then it's like the air is sucked from the car as we both fall silent and still.

The mention of death leaves us in a somber state and I know that Weston is thinking of Beckham just like me.

My hand moves on its own accord and it falls on Weston's thigh. He tenses a little at the contact, but he eases after a second, pulling the car out of the parking lot. I guess I was attempting to comfort him, but now that I've got my hand on his leg like this I'm super uncomfortable. But it's not like I can just yank it back now. That was sure to make it even weirder and then he'd know how uncomfortable I am. Which I can't do, so I leave it there as I look out the window.

After a truly reasonable amount of time, I slowly slide it back to my lap, not meeting his eyes when he glances my way.

The rest of the ride was quiet, the only noise coming from the wind whooshing in Weston's cracked window. Neither of us moved to turn on the radio, and though usually I can't really stand for there to be an awkward silence, this didn't feel awkward. It almost felt comfortable. Right up until I'd remind myself that I'm in the car with Weston freaking Ford. The playboy jerk of Plexer Prep and the one who had seemed to have a life mission to get on my last nerve up until my brother died.