I sighed softly to myself. “Who is it?” I yelled toward my front door. I wasn’t getting up until I knew who was at the door for me, but I mainly wasn’t getting up because I was painting my toe nails white.
“Who do you think it is, Lanea? Santa?” said Westly’s voice.
I formed a small smile on my lips and then stood up, careful not to ruin my toe nails. I was painting them for the engagement party that was in three days. Even though I was going to be wearing closed-toed shoes, I still liked to paint them.
I walked over to my front door and unlocked it after rolling up the sleeves of my baggy sweat shirt again and careful not to hit my toes on the door or something clumsy like that.
Hey, I was pretty awkward!
I looked up at him, and his hair was still messy, and his eyes were still ice blue. I actually smiled at him.
“Hey,” I said.
“What you grinning about?” Westly said, and he walked inside.
My smile faded quickly and I watched him walk into my living room. “What? I can’t smile, Mr. Sarcastic?” I said to him.
“No, you can’t. I forbid it.” He turned around to face me as I closed the front door.
I smiled at him widely and cheekily as I pulled my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, but he did nothing to stop me from smiling. He just looked me up and down. I guess he had never seen me in a striped sweat shirt and jeans before. Normally, I didn’t dress that casually. That could explain it.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked me.
“Daphne hasn’t called me yet, so I decided to just,” I paused and dropped down onto my couch, “Chill.”
He gave me another look. “I’m surprised you know how to do that,” he replied, then sat on the other side of the couch. I was surprised he didn’t sit in the middle, next to me.
“I have been spending time with you lately, haven’t I?” I replied.
He gave it some thought, realized that I was right, and sighed. “Yep.”
I grinned slightly. “So what’s up? Just wanting to see me?” I said, teasing him.
He rolled his eyes at me.
“You were dying to see me, weren’t you?” I said, sounding dramatic and holding the back of my hand to my forehead.
“Shut up, Lanea.”
“Then why are you in my house?”
YOU ARE READING
The Wedding Planner
ChickLitLanea Pastele has grown up with Kirk Davenport since high school. They were lucky to get through high school and college alive, but that's what their help did for each other. After going their separate ways unintentionally after college, Lanea is a...
