Well Beyond Expectation

Chapter Twelve.

           

Lena

I storm inside, looking through an angry red haze as I fight to hold in tears. I will not let him, or anyone else see that his words have affected me like this. It's not happening.

"Le, you ok, hun?" Tonya meets me by the kitchen doors with an understanding expression. "That's why we have the no boyfriends rule here." She sighs, rubbing my shoulder with one hand a passing me a rag to dab my eyes with with the other.

"He is not my boyfriend." I snap angrily, then soften my expression towards her, not meaning to take it out my frustration on her.

She just smiles, blowing me away with how pretty she really is. "He sure acted like a boyfriend." She shrugs. "Whatever, he is he's just a jerk."

Ha! Understatement.

This is exactly why I didn't want him knowing where I worked. Is it glamorous, or what I thought I'd be doing? No. But it was a job, and it's one that pays well. The tips are great, or at least they were before Weston showed up and ruined my mood. It's hard to pretend to smile and laugh when someone comes in and tells you that you're a disappointment to your dead brother.

Just thinking of how Weston had the gall to come in here and judge me like that makes my skin crawl all over and an unexplained ache in my chest come up. This isn't what I had planned for myself. I didn't think my whole family would die on me and I'd be stuck with the responsibilities I have now. I didn't chose this life, and without this job, how do the bills get paid? How do I keep myself and Terry in our house? I'm completely alone in this, and I wanted to be able to trust Weston enough to know the truth and not freak the hell out, but freak out is what he did.

He'd basically called me a dirty whore in the process. He's such a total douche wagon and I don't know how I ever let myself for even the smallest of seconds forget that about him. I hate myself for ever believing that maybe Weston Ford was anything more than an egotistical, stuck up asshole. I should have known that people don't change, especially people like him.

I'll never let myself make that mistake again, I promise myself.

"Homeboy and his crew have bolted." Marky, the team's waitress, follows me into the employee break room at the end of our shifts. "But you got a note." She holds out the napkin to me.

I didn't want to take the napkin from her, afraid of what insult may lie on it. What else could he possibly have to say that he hadn't already? I knew I had to face it at some point or another though, so I slowly take it from her hand, flipping it over.

If you get off in time I'd still love to see you at Marco's party 330 Woodlane Dr. –Devon

I crumple it up, a little relieved it wasn't from Weston, then throw it across the room into the trash can. "So?" Marky asks, twirling a bit of her bleach blonde hair with black streaks around her fingers. I raise my brows at her and she sighs. "It's just after eleven and you're off work...you going?"

"Of course not." I say as if it should be obvious but she frowns.

"Well, why not?"

I pause for a second, thinking back to earlier today and how Weston said I'd never be at a Plexer party. Like I wasn't good or cool enough to ever attend one of the stupid things.

"You know what?" I say. "You're right. Completely right.Why shouldn't I go?" I nod to myself. Apparently I'm already an awful person for doing what I have to do to take care of myself. I might as well go to a party too. Live a little, right Weston? "I'm going." I announce with a nod.