Four Weekends & a Photograph (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 9

[It's time for Nicole's POV...!]

Meeting Waverly shifted my life in a good way. Still can't quite believe how fast I fell for her. Less than a few minutes to know. The years prior to Greece had been tough. The divorce tore our family apart, dad heading to England to be with grandma, her health not so good. Mom had accepted it was over long before he did. The arguments, the weeks when we wouldn't see him. I wanted a dad who loved my mom as much as I did. As a teenager it's hard to understand the complexities of a relationship when you've not had one.

He wasn't cruel. Absent, which I guess is just as cruel, but how was I to know. Mom told me he had a new job which meant he needed to be away a whole lot more. I bought that lie, for a while, then it stopped fitting with what I was seeing. Mom crying, or drinking, or drinking and crying. I did my best to comfort her, but as their only kid I had no one to take the pressure other than me. It's not that I didn't want the pressure. I wanted my family to be happy, which meant doing everything I could as I thought I should.

Dad moved out after their final argument, which lasted hours. My room became a sanctuary, not sure if I was wanted anymore, or whether I was the cause of their hatred towards each other. Acing my studies, not being a typical teenage brat, none of it seemed to get through, or make a difference. It's as if I was a side salad which no one ordered for their messy main course.

When dad returned to England I knew I had to follow, which is weird because we hadn't been close as I grew up. Perhaps that's why. To get to know him. Mom had her career, and her arty friends, and recognised I needed to go be part of a bigger world. She wasn't upset when I told her my plans. Getting into Oxford helped, gave her something to brag about to her friends. She raised me to be myself, to be proud of who I am. She never once stood against my preferences, accepting me for who I had chosen to be, nurturing my nature. Dad too, but not in the way mom did. He needed more time. And, he had his own problems.

Wynonna's offer for me to visit was the break I didn't know I needed until I got there. We'd sent each other texts a few times, she even sent me a postcard with two whales humping. That's Wynonna for you. Dad thought it hilarious. Shae and I were officially long over, work was a drag, and my life seemed to be drifting with no clear direction, other than establish myself in a decent law firm.

The first time I saw Waverly in that short, black dress almost stopped my heart. I'd seen photos Wynonna had on her phone. Of family gatherings, and holidays. Younger. Pretty. So pretty. It was clear she was interested, her body telling me it wanted something more than whatever that guy gave her in the bar. The way she moved on the dancefloor later, in rhythm with me, her hips getting closer, her eyes on me the whole time, enjoying what we had going between us until I took a shower from a guy's beer.

When she disappeared from the club my only thought was to go see where she might have gone. Wynonna checked the restroom, suggesting she could be outside. I prayed she hadn't found that guy from the bar, or someone else. Then again, if that's who she wanted, that was her choice.

The accident underwater floored me, the panic in Waverly's eyes on realising what had happened. If only I had been more alert, not thinking about what I'd seen on the boat, those soft breasts, beautifully accentuated by their lack of a tan. So sexy I had to force myself not to stare. Did she know the effect she was having on me? I guess so. It must have been pretty damn obvious I liked what I saw. Those eyes of hers, so adorable, wanting to tell her how attractive she was, but there didn't seem to be a time, or a place, where I could.

So, that was the plan. Find a time and a place where we were alone, and let her know I had the biggest crush. It's not as if this happened every time an attractive woman entered my life. Waverly was different, more natural, less affected by her looks, as if she didn't know her own beauty. Perhaps it was her age, still finding herself, and what she could be. She might be younger, but she came across as mature, not giggly, or flirty, or too into herself. As I said, natural.