Letters to Elle

06 | Reminiscing the Past

If I ever use the phrase "I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding", please tell me. Please spare my sanity and tell me, okay? Thank you (: 

Enjoy! Don't forget to vote and comment! That way I know that people are actually enjoying this, lol, and that I'm not boring you guys to tears. Btw, I'm already at 15000 words. Omg. Ugh. So happy. So much work. NaNo is kicking my butt, but still xD

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            06 | Reminiscing the Past

“Waverly!” Jer’s mother, Stacy, greets me at the door. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today. Jer hadn’t said anything.”

            My barely there grin forces its way onto my face. “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Carr.”

            Jer’s mom waves her hand in the air, the towel she’s carrying flowing with her motions. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Stacy? We’ve known each other for the longest time! No need to be so formal, dear.”

            I can feel a blush beginning to make its way onto my face, and I duck my head a bit. “Alright.”

            “I’ll just go and get Jeremy.”

            “Thanks.”

            Mrs. Carr—Stacy—ushers me inside of her house and then goes in search for her jerk-ish teenage son, leaving me to stand awkwardly by their door all on their own. Looking around the place, I notice that nothing’s really changed since the last time I’d been here. When Jer and I worked on Elle’s funeral speech, he told me to meet him at the park. He didn’t even dare invite me to his house. Apparently, going by how how mom acted when she saw me at their doorstep, he hadn’t told her that I was the one he was meeting. I was probably just ‘some girl’.

            “Waverly?”

            I turn at the sound of the voice and come face to face with Jer himself. It looks like he just walked out of the kitchen, considering he’s holding a large club sandwhich in his hand. Momentarily, he forgets about his sandwhich, more interested in thef act that I’m here.

            I may or may not have told him that I was stopping by. . . .

            “What are you doing here?” he asks. I think he’s so comfortable in his own home that he forgets to be menacing and irritating toward me. Maybe it’s something that he has to work at to get it perfect.

            I shrug, trying not to meet his eyes. “I figured we could get started today, and I know that you don’t have any practices today.”

            “Do you now?”

            I nod my head, biting my lip. Is he going to kick me out of his house? I don’t think Stacy would like him to, but it’s not like he can’t just kick me out now and tell his mom that I left voluntarily. I wouldn’t put that past him.

            Apparently he hadn’t forgotten about his large sub, because he takes a bite and speaks (with his mouth full, I might add). “That’s creepy.”

            “Yeah,” I say absentmindedly, “I’m really starting to wonder if you’re just putting up a fake front at school or when we’re with friends. You don’t see to hate me right now.”

            He chuckles, bits of food falling out of his mouth. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Boys. “I can assure you that that’s not the fact.” He gestures toward me with his sandwich. “I just don’t have the energy to hate you right now. I need my energy to my sandwich.”