The Great Divide

7. The Date

I hadn't been on a date in a long time. In fact, my mother and father hadn't known me to have ever been on a date. I had a boyfriend my sophomore year, and though I dated him for nearly a year, the thrill of keeping it secret was far more exciting than the actual relationship itself. When he called me out on that exact reason and I hadn't declined the accusation, the relationship abruptly ended. I had moped around the apartment and consumed gallons of ice cream with Liv, but the pain was fleeting; I was only sad the secret part of the relationship had ended.

Despite my urgent request to meet Wes at the restaurant via the metro, he had insisted on picking me up. It sent a wave of nausea through my abdomen, but I quickly tried to abate the feeling by pacing back in forth in lines. I wasn't ashamed of where I came from. He knew I wasn't a Westlaker, and if he wanted to go on a date with me, he better be willing to see the place I called home.

I had told my parents about the date and was met with two entirely different remarks, both the opposite of what I had been expecting. Instead of the kind smile I imagined, my father's mouth frowned, and he made me endure a very long, very serious conversation about how to defend myself should I need to. I had envisioned my mother as the one who would be upset by this news, however, after telling her I had a date, she simply exhaled and whispered, "Finally."

Wes was due to arrive any moment. Even if this wasn't a real date on my part, I still wanted to look nice and opted to search for some clothes near the back of my closet. I had pulled on a tight pair of black jeans and striped turtleneck, which were put together and sensible for this time of year. I ran a brush through my thick, tousled hair and swiped on a layer of makeup. Reflected in the mirror was a girl not too different than normal, and a smile rose on my small mouth at how put together I looked.

Giving myself a nod of affirmation in the mirror, I stepped into the living room to find my mother and father sitting solemnly on the coach. My eyes instinctively rolled.

"What's his name again?" my mother asked.

"Wes," I said.

"West?" she repeated. "Like the direction?"

A laugh crept up my throat; I was about to correct her, however, decided against it. My mother might actually appreciate a name like West.

"Yep. Just like the direction."

An easy smile played on my mother's mouth.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Flying out of the chair, I hurried towards it, swiped a hand through my hair, and twisted the handle. With a large smile blinding me on contact, Wes waved and stepped through the threshold. His smile faltered once while roaming his eyes around our apartment. I was almost certain he had never been to this part of the city before.

Wes greeted me and then introduced himself to my parents. My mother beamed while my father scowled.

"Hi, West," my mother said, and I pushed back a laugh. "Have fun. Have Margaret home by ten thirty."

It didn't escape me my curfew had increased by a half an hour. My mother was either more impressed with Wes than I imagined, or she was just happy I was, in her words, finally going on a date.

Not too soon after, with another rough look from the naturally kind face of my father – the contrast had my eyebrows furrowing – Wes and I left the apartment and headed down the stairwell. His luxury car was parked on the street, and we climbed inside. The inside was sleek, shiny, and new and even smelled like it was fresh off the lot. The job came with perks sometimes.

"I'm happy we're doing this," Wes said, just as he merged onto the highway. "Also, I remembered where I saw you."

"At school?" I answered, unable to part with the joke.