Saving Laurel

50. Closer

Wes Thompson

I take a seat at the lunch table, laughing at Ellie as she stumbles over her own feet, shrieking.

"Watch out my bags there." Brett nonchalantly informs her as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Are you trying to kill someone!" Ellie screams, her paper lunch bag cinched in her fist.

Brett shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in amusement. And then I look past Ellie to Laurel who has the biggest grin on her face. Her hair is down like always, falling in soft waves as it shines under the autumn sun. When her blue eyes meet mine, heat rushes across my skin because I know I've just been caught staring at her but I don't look away.

Her smiles goes from a big grin to something sweeter, something softer, it makes my heart pound in my chest. Our eyes stay locked as she takes her seat across from me, she's got this light gray sweater on that swallows her body and a pair of jeans but somehow she still looks great. I mean she always looks great.

She seems more open, more full of life and I like that she's fallen into sync with our group. Purely selfish reasons. I get to spend more time with her if she's friends with us all.

But the absolute best part about the past three weeks is we've become closer. It's probably mostly because we have a secret now. Just the two of us. And secrets have a tendency to do one of two things. They either bring you closer or pull you apart.

Ours has brought us closer.

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Laurel meets me outside my sixth hour everyday, her classroom near mine. She tugs off my jean jacket that she's had over her sweater to fight off a chill ever since the end of lunch and hands it back to me. It's something that has happened more often than not and I gotta say, my jean jacket has never looked better on someone. I almost tell her to keep it but I still haven't pulled out my winter coat.

"It's okay if I come over a little later?" She asks for the millionth time.

My OCD and I have already chatted, we'll make it work.

"Yeah." I smile at her as she looks up at me.

We've still been doing music theory study sessions but they've become less studying and more hanging out but I'm not about to mention the fact that she doesn't need help anymore.

Her hand brushes mine as we walk, my heart races off as my mind clouds over with thoughts. Like how easy it would be to slip my fingers through hers. It's not that we haven't held hands, we have. But it's always been when my tics are starting to get bad and I need a distraction and not because she just wants to hold my hand.

But I want to hold hers.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I'm not even aware of the tic that makes me smack myself in the chest until a sting erupts across my shirt covered skin.

I hate this tic.

And I'm not sure if it's good or bad that all my friends have gotten used to it.

"What're the plans for this weekend?" We have to squeeze between a group of people that won't budge from where they ooze out into more than their fair share of the hallway but I don't mind. Laurel has to turn around and look back at me to ensure I can hear her question over the noise of our peers which means I get to look at her too.

"Usual." I tell her. Her lips are a soft pink, glistening slightly as she licks her lips and all I want to do is kiss her. To draw her close, feel my fingers slip through the silky strands of her hair so I can tilt her hand back into my palm. Whoa. Stay focused Wesley. "My mom's Friday night."

"Next weekend is your dads?" She asks.

I've been going to my dad's more, every other weekend so far and then he's been picking me up for dinner once a week. I still haven't met his girlfriend, not that he's mentioned her but I'm almost certain I'm right. And I can't help but feel like this new found interest in me stems from her.

Not sure how I feel about it either.

"Yeah." As always hesitation lingers in my voice.

I'd love to say that my dad's has gotten easier but I swear the man likes to mess with me. Last weekend I got there and he had completely rearranged the living room. Why? Why can't furniture just stay where you put it? Why does he have to change everything all the time? Sometimes things are good just as they are.

"Wes." Laurel calls my name from behind me.

"Huh?" I ask turning around but then as I watch her smile at me I realize my thoughts have distracted me and I missed something.

"You passed your locker." She says, pointing back down the hall a few steps.

The first thing I want to do is apologize but I've gotten good at not doing that with Laurel. She's told me more than once to stop.

So instead I say "thanks" and walk the few feet back to her.

"I gotta go. See ya in a little bit." She's already stepping backward, waving her fingers from where they're clutched around her books.

Her lower lips catches between her teeth, happiness spilling from her clear blue eyes. And even though I can feel a tic wanting to come out I hold it back so I don't have to look away from her.

"See ya Laurel." My words come out smoother than I normally muster, my voice dropping slightly because I'm preoccupied with thoughts of her.

And I'm rewarded with a very rare blush that heats her cheeks. She drops her head slightly causing us to lose eye contact but even though I love it when she looks at me I feel satisfied for once she's blushing and not me.

Now maybe one of these days I'll work up the courage to hold her hand.

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Michigan is trying to melt us. Also my house has its appraisal today! Cross your fingers they don't flag anything we have to fix 😂.