Why I Love Him

Chapter Four

Being the pushover that I was, of course, I was at a restaurant with Wayne because he asked to take me out. Wayne smiled at me when he noticed I was staring. I looked away, turning my gaze to the pate of food in front of me. The restaurant was full, and everyone around was well dressed. The place made me uncomfortable. It was too — high class? Why did Wayne bring me here? I wondered, looking around.

"You look nervous." I looked up at the sound of Wayne's voice. He was still smiling at me, but this time he was holding a glass of wine. His honey-colored hair was shining — was that hairspray or the chandelier on the ceiling? Am I imaging things? I wondered, shaking my head a bit before I looked away. I always got confused and absorbed when looking at Wayne.

"Maybe I am nervous," I answered, shrugging again. I was wearing a plain dress shirt and a pair of black jeans. I was underdressed compared to the people sitting around us, and I was a little annoyed that Wayne hadn't specified where we were going to.

Why are you with him at all? A voice said in my head as I looked back at him, and then back at my food again. What in the world was Wayne trying to do, anyway?

"Have you thought about it?" I looked back at Wayne with a raised brow.

"Thought about what?" I asked, c*****g my head to the side as I watched him take a sip of wine from his glass. Wayne's eyes seemed to dim a bit at my question. He put his glass back down on the table and started to rub the base of his thumbs against its smooth surface.

"When we — When we hooked up at your apartment," he said, licking his lips before letting out a low sigh. "I asked you if we could start over. Have you thought about it? Do you want to do that?" he asked, and I felt my face pale at his words.

"If you were me would you do that?" I asked. You know how you treated me back then. I said that bit in my mind, not wanting to start a fight. Wayne's lips parted at my question. His eyes were wide, and I just stared at his shocked face.

"I—" he trailed. His face was red, and I couldn't tell if it was from the wine or from embarrassment. "I don't know. I really don't know," he answered, letting go of his glass before pushing it away from him. He brought his hand up to hold his forehead, and I was starting to think I shouldn't have said that.

"I made a big mistake back then. I'm sorry. I want to start over, but at the end, it's your choice if you want to get back with me," he said, and when I didn't say anything in response he continued to ramble. "When I cut our contact, I was being selfish. I was thinking about my reputation, how my family would see me... I had a lot of pressure on me, and I—" he paused, cursing under his breath, and muttering something about needing to learn to stop making excuses.

"I had already deleted your phone number when I realized that, no, I didn't want to just up and disappear two years later. I couldn't get in touch with you anymore, but I tried. I asked around, but you were really reserved back in university, and—" he paused, sighing before rubbing his forehead with his hand. "No one had your number. I only got a vague clue about what town and state you were living now. I wanted to see you so much, so after three years on planning around it, here I am," he said, and I just stared at me.

Did he move across the country... for me? I wondered as a confused frown made its way to my face.

"When I started setting up branches in this area, I didn't run into you or anyone who recognized your name. I was starting to get a bit worried that you didn't live in this town, or that maybe you moved," he continued talking, and I just stared at him. I didn't have anything to say — no, I didn't know what to say.

"So, try and think about it, okay?" he said, referring to the possibility of us getting back together. He reached out to grab my hand, giving it a small squeeze. "I don't deserve a second chance, but I would love it if you gave me one," he said, squeezing my hand again before letting go of it to attend to his food.

I stared at my pam for a while, not knowing how to process the information. Eventually, my attention moved back to my food and we didn't talk about it for the rest of dinner.

---

Wayne used to date a lot — yes, even when he was dating me. He would hook up with girls and get steady girlfriends while I was his secret he only met up with in private. He would even get mad at me for looking his in public. I had to pretend that I didn't know him at all. I understood. I understood that he had to maintain a reputation, and I hadn't wanted to be the reason things went to s**t for him.

I'm not sure how I managed then. I'm even more confused as to why I was heartbroken when he cut contact with me after graduation. I had expected it to an extent, but it still hurt.

All this was also why it was weird to be around him in public now. He was flirting, reaching out for my hand, and generally not the person that was afraid to get outted five years ago. In other words, we were having a normal date. I wanted to bring it up, but I wasn't sure if I should. Did he come within the five years we didn't see each other? How did his parents take it? Does he still talk to them? Those were the questions floating in my mind, but those were questions I was too afraid to ask because of the possibility of ruining the mood.

The mood. I thought to myself, looking to my side to find Wayne throwing another coin into the fountain. This was nice. The mood was nice. [It was around eight in the evening now, and we were taking a stroll in the park. The outdoor lamps were on, and the fountain at the center of the park was gleaming with its own lights. Wayne had promised to drop me off at my apartment after this.

"Wayne?"

"Hmm?" he muttered, turning to face me before giving me a small smile. Even in the dark, his eyes didn't lose their shine. I opened my mouth, then closed it like I had forgotten what to say. What did I want to say again? I wondered as Wayne's laughter filled my ears.

"You haven't changed at all," I heard him say. "You still get lost I your thoughts a lot." He smiled, and I just looked at him before turning my eyes to the fountain. The flowing water made a calming noise, and Wayne continued to toss coins into it again.

"So," I started, remembering the question I wanted to ask. "What have you been up to for the past five years?" It wasn't a drastic or obvious change, but I could tell Wayne's expression had changed a bit. His smile didn't look sincere anymore, and his posture was more rigid. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. I might be walking on eggshells.

"Nothing grand really," he said, jut high enough for me to catch the words he said.

"Well, you seem to be doing well," I said, looking away. "With your company and all. Is it in connection with your dad's?" I asked, remembering that his dad owned a chain of car parts stores back in our state.

"I guess I am doing alright," he said with a small smile, but it disappeared just as fast as it appeared. "And to answer your question, yes and no," he said. "It started like that, but when I came out things were a little strained between us, so I did the right thing and cut off our business ties," Wayne explained.

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. "What about you? What have you been doing for the past five years?" he asked.

Suffering from depression. I blinked at the words in my head, shrugging them off. "You know, things," I said instead, and he laughed before letting out a sigh.

"We should be getting back," he said, and I agreed with him before following him to his car. He drove me back to my apartment and asked if he could come up, and just like last time I let him. He behaved himself for a while, and we even talked some more as he pet my cat, Ciel, but somewhere along the line, the living room went quiet and tense. That's when he leaned in to kiss me. I didn't stop him, and instead, I moved in and played with his buttons to get them undone. We kept kissing and pressing our bodies together.

It felt like I was burning — I was burning.

"We should —mm — we s-should." I kept stuttering, forgetting what I wanted to say as Wayne's hands rubbed up and down my back and then my sides. He kissed my neck, jaw, and then my lips again before he pulled away.

"We should what?" he asked, and I just stared at him. I head felt heavy, hazed. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was my feelings going amok. We should stop. A voice in my head said. I'll get hurt. It went on. I shook my head and pushed aside my fears before resting my head on Wayne's shoulder. I didn't want to stop.

"Don't worry, it's nothing," I said, and Wayne looked at me with disbelief, but he didn't say anything. He leaned back, and soon he was lying down on the sofa with me on top of him. Ciel had left the living room for somewhere else, so we were alone.

"If you say so," Wayne said, breaking the silence. He reached out for my face, feeling my features with his fingers. I liked looking at him. The honey hair, the green eyes. My Wayne, but different — not the Wayne that would hurt me. I hope. My heart was pounding, and all I could do was stare at him. He gave me a small smile before pulling me in for a kiss.

I slept with Wayne that night, and of course, I woke up cussing at myself the next morning.