North & West

Nineteen

It was odd, really, how now that I'd finally come to terms with how I felt about West Monroe, I began to notice all sorts of new things about him that had never met my eye before.

My mother had invited his mother over, not just for dinner this time. Instead, she'd asked his mother to bring her kids along – which meant Krissy and West, both this time – and stay for the day full of what my mother had called “summer activities.”

My mother and I had made amends and things were certainly going better, but I did not agree with her decision. Inviting West's entire family over to play volleyball and other ridiculous games I sucked at was not really my idea of a fun time.

Although I was glad that she'd made friends at her yoga class, I wasn't exactly hugely enthusiastic about that friend being West's mother.

West took a seat beside me on the little wooden picnic table my father had dragged out of the garage, awkwardly bending his long legs to fit beneath the table. “This is pretty fun.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm sorry you got suckered into coming to this,” I replied, watching as my dad attempted to hit the volleyball over the net to my mother. If anyone was worse at sports than I was, it would have to be my father, and watching him try, harder each time, was rather comical.

West knocked my shoulder with his, a small smile on his face. “I don't mind it, I mean, I get to spend the day with you.” He said, the smile on his face only widening when I rolled my eyes at his comment, despite the way it made my stomach flutter.

I simply looked away from him, deciding not to reply as I continued to watch my mother and father smack the volleyball back across the net to one another, a smile stretching more and more across my face each time my father failed to get it over the net.

Since West had shown up, just after noon with his mother and sister, I'd been noticing little things about him that I hadn't notice before. I noticed the way that his right cheek dipped in a bit when he really grinned, almost like there should have been a dimple, one that hadn't quite formed entirely.

I also noticed how he often ran a hand through his hair and drummed his fingers against his thigh like he was trying to keep them occupied, a habit I'd developed myself. When I was particularly in need of a cigarette, I would find a way to occupy my hands, resisting the urge to ransack the house for one to smoke.

Although West and I had been abstaining from alcohol – as far as I knew, at least – we hadn't quite been able to break our smoking habits. Not drinking was hard enough, so many things able to ignite the urge and make it burn brighter, and I believed that trying to quit smoking on top of that would only make it worse and much, much harder.

West and I sat in silence, watching as West's mother and sister threw themselves into the game with my parents, splitting up and forming teams. I laughed a little when Krissy ended up on my father's side, obviously trying to remain optimistic despite his poor skills.

My mother served the ball backwards, sighing a bit and going to retrieve it. She suddenly glanced over at West and I, a knowing smile on her face due to the conversation we'd had just days before. I pleaded with my eyes for her to not say anything, so when she didn't, simply calling out, “Join us!” I almost sighed in relief.

West grabbed my arm before I could protest, pulling me toward the makeshift court and separating us. He tried to head towards my mother's side – for obvious reasons – but I shook my head, pointing towards my father, considering he obviously could use some help.

I stood beside my mother, watching as West was handed the ball by my father to serve. I faintly heard my father mutter something that sounded like, “Please make it over,” and I tried my hardest to stifle the laugh just aching to escape.