Happenstance 3 (Happenstance #3)(7)
Author: Jamie McGuire

The shower knob turned easily, and I stepped under the hot spray, relaxing as the room filled with steam. I couldn’t change the years I’d spent alone, but they didn’t matter anymore. I was surrounded by love. It followed me, worried about me, and waited up for me, and I would have it for the rest of my life.

Once I was washed, shaved, and lotioned, I combed the tangles from my wet hair and changed into a nightgown. The sheets smelled of fabric softener and the sophisticated soft scent that was unique to Sam and Julianne.

My cell phone illuminated, and I palmed it as I relaxed my head on the pillow.

I want to come over.

I smiled and then tapped out a reply.

You just left.

So?

You’re crazy.

Just about you.

I set the phone on the nightstand and looked up at the stain-free ceiling, taking a deep breath. I was still unable to believe how my luck had completely changed.

The next morning, I went to school, feeling like a piece of me that had been broken was now put back together. In my heart and mind, I’d forgiven Gina, and she knew that I’d forgiven her. Every ending had made it that much easier to emerge myself into a beginning—one that had started with Weston.

He had arrived earlier than me, but he was waiting in his truck. I parked my car on the driver’s side of his Chevy, and I tried to subdue a smile as I watched him eagerly jump out to greet me.

When I closed my door, he was there, wrapping his arms around me, and with a single kiss, he showed the entire school he loved me. “Good morning, quiet bee.”

“Quiet…bee?”

“I’ve texted you, like, five times.”

“I was driving.”

“It took you half an hour to get to school?”

“No.”

He thought about that for a minute, his eyes falling to the cement. The thin skin beneath them was purple.

“You look tired,” I said.

“Probably because I had to follow my girlfriend late at night to make sure she was okay,” he said, intertwining his long fingers in mine.

The morning air was already warm, and he must have left his letterman’s jacket in his truck as he was wearing only a white T-shirt and jeans. He tugged me along, but I stopped him.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. He looked to his left and then yanked me toward him, away from the main drive.

A mid-nineties Caprice rolled over the second speed bump without even a tap on the brakes.

We stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Students weren’t watching where they were going while walking on each side of us because they were looking back at Weston and me for signs of conflict.

“How much better?” I asked, touching his jaw.

He looked around and took my hand away from his face, holding my knuckles against his chest. “Babe, I’m fine.” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “You’re probably not going to trust me for a while when I say that, but I’ve had asthma for as long as I can remember. I’ve never let it hold me back, and I especially won’t now that I’ve got so much to stick around for.” He gently squeezed my fingers. “Don’t you believe me?”

“Yes, and that’s what worries me. I just want you to be careful. You’ve made me a lot of promises that I expect you to keep.”

He pulled my hand to his mouth and spoke against my skin, “I plan on making you a few more.” He chuckled and tugged on me again. “I’m really okay, Erin. C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

The moment I sat down in Biology, Brady and Brendan began whispering, and my walls immediately went up. As soon as the comments about Weston being a pussy floated from their table, it was almost easy to ignore them, but to my surprise, Sara flipped around and gripped the back of her chair.

“He could have died, you jerks! Shut up!”

Brady glared at her, incredulous.

He opened his mouth, but Lisa Kahle from one table over spoke first, “No, really. Shut up. It was serious, and you two using it to harass Erin is beyond low.”

Brady’s eyes shifted between the two girls. He was still planning to shoot off his mouth until Mrs. Merit walked in, breathless and tired.

“Okay, we’ve got a big chapter this week, and I’m sure you all want to finish up, so you won’t have homework on prom weekend. Open your books to page three-oh-three.”

I opened my book and glanced up at Sara. Her eyes met mine, and we both shared an appreciative small smile.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, except for the questions about Weston.

When I sat down in Health, Weston leaned forward over his desk, coming up off of his chair to hug me to him, my back pressing gently against my chair. He clasped his hands together at my chest and pecked my cheek.

“All right,” Coach Morris said, looking up from his planner. “Have a seat, Gates.”

The classroom erupted in chuckles, and Weston sat back in his chair. I turned to look at him, and he winked at me, trying to hold back his beaming grin.

Between each class, Weston would meet me at my locker, chattering like he’d had a gallon of coffee. I’d never seen him so carefree.

Before Art though, he was notably absent when I dialed my combination. When I opened the metal door, an oversized sticky note was stuck to the inside.

YOU’RE ALL THE BREATH I NEED.

LOVE ALWAYS,

WESTON

I pulled the sticky note away from the metal and held it in my palm. Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t think of the Dairy Queen stock or how many scoops of M&M’s to put in a Blizzard to ward them off. Two teardrops fell down my cheeks, and I didn’t even bother to wipe them away. For the first time, I was crying happy tears.

I slipped my arms through the straps of my backpack and walked to class. Weston was sitting in his usual stool at my desk. He hadn’t moved it since the first time he sat there. That was back when we had tried to be just friends, and he’d wanted to show me his project—the project that had inspired the silver heart hanging from the matching chain around my neck.

At first sight of my wet cheeks, Weston’s expression twisted into concern, but then I turned the sticky note for him to see. I threw my arms around him, and he hugged me back, squeezing that little bit extra that he always did, while gently pressing his cheek against my ear. When I pulled away, he used his thumbs to wipe away the moisture under my eyes.

“That was supposed to make you smile.”

I laughed, wiping my eyes again. “I am smiling.”