Foolish Summer | ✔

12 • S T E P H E N • 💌

Days later my mom was still mad about the party. No damage was done to the house except some stains on the rug in the living room, yet she acted like her house was wrecked.

I avoided her as much as possible by staying in my room. My room that had been stripped of its tv, laptop, and gaming systems leaving...my bed, bookshelf, dresser and desk.

It was fine. It freed me up to do some thinking. Specifically, some thinking about Waverly and the conversation I overheard between her and mom the night of the party.

She promised her mom she'd stay away from me. I understood why she did it, unlike me she tried not to piss her mom off. Still, I wondered if she meant it. I hoped she didn't.

Waverly and her mom were at our house more than the house my mom rented for them. Everyday she was there and I wasn't allowed to say anything to her. Watching her made me feel like a creep, but it was hard to look away when she looked bored out of her mind as my mom went on and on about what the Boujee Brigade deemed on trend or not. At that point the wedding was starting to become less about her apparent love for Brad and more about pleasing her friends.

If I could've gotten away with it I would've pulled Waverly away from the wedding talk, brought her up to my room and let her read that book she always had on her. Not exactly what most guys would think about doing if they had a girl in their room. A couple weeks ago I was most guys.

That first time I saw Waverly alone in days she was standing over our dining table laying out squares of fabric in different colors and patterns. She was separating the fabrics into sets of three, making up different combinations and numbering them sticky notes. Her purple glasses matched the purple flowers on her dress.

She glanced up when I cut through the dining room to get to the kitchen. She didn't say anything and neither did I. Our moms were in the living room talking about food options and I didn't want to get Waverly in trouble. Again.

I was down there to grab something to eat. That was it.

After whipping up a sandwich and grabbing a soda I headed back the way I came, freezing when a bright pink sticky note caught my attention. It was stuck to the edge of the dining room table and definitely wasn't there when I walked by earlier.

I looked up at Waverly, her head was down as she scribbled something on the stack of pink sticky notes she held. Picking up the note I realized it was a phone number. Her phone number.

My gaze darted back up to Waverly. She met my eyes that time, a hint of a smile playing on her lips before she went back to her fabric squares.

I probably donned a grin myself as I went back up to my room. Waverly wanted to talk. I set my lunch on the desk and reached for my phone.

Shit. I didn't have my phone.

That whole punishment thing needed to end.

• • •

Mom was out by the pool later that evening. She finally let Waverly and her mom go home for dinner an hour ago. She seemed to be in a good mood, laughing as she talked on the phone.

I planned out my whole speech and was prepared to, at the very least, get my phone back. Then there was the back-up plan, a.k.a Brad. If it came to that I'd just promise her to do some bonding or whatever with her future husband. She'd do anything if it meant I'd be nicer to him.

But I wasn't gonna offer to spend time with him unless absolutely necessary.

"Speak of the devil," she said to whoever was on the line when she saw me stepping out through the backdoor. "I'll ask him and get back to you."