Why I Love Him | ✓ [SAMPLE]

Chapter 4

Being the pushover that I was, of course, I was at a restaurant with Wayne because he asked to take me out. Wayne smiled at me when he noticed I was staring. I looked away, turning my gaze to the plate of food in front of me. The restaurant was full, and everyone around was well dressed. The place made me uncomfortable. It was too — high class? Why did Wayne bring me here? I wondered, looking around.

"You look nervous." I looked up at the sound of Wayne's voice. He was still smiling at me, but this time he was holding a glass of wine. His honey-colored hair was shining — was that hairspray or the chandelier on the ceiling? Am I imaging things? I wondered, shaking my head a bit before I looked away. I always got confused and absorbed when looking at Wayne.

"Maybe I am nervous," I answered, shrugging again. I was wearing a plain dress shirt and a pair of black jeans. I was underdressed compared to the people sitting around us, and I was a little annoyed that Wayne hadn't specified where we were going.

Why are you with him at all? A voice said in my head as I looked back at him, and then back at my food again. What in the world was Wayne trying to do, anyway?

"Have you thought about it?" I looked back at Wayne with a raised brow.

"Thought about what?" I asked, cocking my head to the side as I watched him take a sip of wine from his glass. Wayne's eyes seemed to dim a bit at my question. He put his glass back down on the table and started to rub the base of his thumbs against its smooth surface.

"When we — When we hooked up at your apartment," he said, licking his lips before letting out a low sigh. "I asked you if we could start over. Have you thought about it? Do you want to do that?" he asked, and I felt my face pale at his words.

"If you were me would you do that?" I asked. You know how you treated me back then. I said that bit in my mind, not wanting to start a fight. Wayne's lips parted at my question. His eyes were wide, and I just stared at his shocked face.

"I—" he trailed. His face was red, and I couldn't tell if it was from the wine or from embarrassment. "I don't know. I really don't know," he answered, letting go of his glass before pushing it away from him. He brought his hand up to hold his forehead, and I was starting to think I shouldn't have said that.

"I made a big mistake back then. I'm sorry. I want to start over, but in the end, it's your choice if you want to get back with me," he said, and when I didn't say anything in response he continued to ramble. "When I cut our contact, I was being selfish. I was thinking about my reputation, how my family would see me... I had a lot of pressure on me, and I—" he paused, cursing under his breath, and muttering something about needing to learn to stop making excuses.

"I had already deleted your phone number when I realized that, no, I didn't want to just up and disappear two years later. I couldn't get in touch with you anymore, but I tried. I asked around, but you were really reserved back in university, and—" he paused, sighing before rubbing his forehead with his hand. "No one had your number. I only got a vague clue about what town and state you were living now. I wanted to see you so much, so after three years on planning around it, here I am," he said, and I just stared at me.

Did he move across the country... for me? I wondered as a confused frown made its way to my face.

"When I started setting up branches in this area, I didn't run into you or anyone who recognized your name. I was starting to get a bit worried that you didn't live in this town, or that maybe you moved," he continued talking, and I just stared at him. I didn't have anything to say — no, I didn't know what to say.

"So, try and think about it, okay?" he said, referring to the possibility of us getting back together. He reached out to grab my hand, giving it a small squeeze. "I don't deserve a second chance, but I would love it if you gave me one," he said, squeezing my hand again before letting go of it to attend to his food.