24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
BECKY
W hat did that even mean? Why did he leave if I read the situation correctly? Argh. Why was he so confusing? My mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened. As I replayed the scene in my head, I felt embarrassed about clutching onto him like that. I cringed at the memory of it, wondering if I’d made a fool of myself. Would he think I was pathetic?
No, he had come to me. I remembered the way his hands had held me so gently. For a moment, he looked at me like he wanted to kiss me. I was sure of it.
So why didn’t he? Why did he leave? What had changed? Was it something I did? Was he not ready for a relationship? But despite the confusion and embarrassment, I couldn’t deny the feelings I had for him. The moment he called me sweetheart, I knew I was all in.
The ball was in his court though. There was nothing I could do now. Not with how skittish he could be. I’d just have to try to go to sleep and see what tomorrow would bring. That is, if sleep would come.
The following day, there was a knock on my door around mid-morning. I’d been like a caged tiger, pacing this little cottage, waiting for Weston to come. I shook my hands to get rid of my nervous energy before opening the door.
“Good morning,” Weston greeted, a casual smile gracing his lips as if this were just another regular day.
His nonchalance sent a twinge of sadness through me, but I masked it with a gentle, “Hi,” my voice a whisper of my concealed disappointment.
“Today and tomorrow are rest days because the race is on Saturday. I’ve taken leave from work too. Would you… would you like to come to the beach with me?” He shuffled slightly, a rare hint of unease in his posture.
A glimmer of hope sparked in my heart. Despite ignoring the almost-kiss we shared last night, he still wanted to spend time with me. That had to mean something. “ Okay, sounds great. Just give me a few minutes to change,” I replied.
We opted to walk to the beach, because it was only ten minutes away and we had the whole day to kill. Along the way, we chatted about trivial things—the race preparations, the weather—anything to ease the tension. By the time our feet hit the soft sand, I’d managed to get a hold of my disappointment and regain my composure. I’d packed the fantasy book he’d gifted me so I would make the most of this gorgeous beach day. We found a spot, and I settled my towel on the sand next to Weston’s. I removed my beach dress and lay on the towel, happy to soak up the sun while I read.
“Where’s the strappy blue swimsuit?” Weston asked.
I shrugged. “I loved it once, adored how it turned heads, and drew eyes. But now… things are different. I’m different,” I said, a wistful smile playing on my lips. “I guess I’ve become pickier about the kind of attention I seek. It’s not about the approving glances or whispered compliments anymore. I’m learning to look beyond that, to value something deeper.”
His eyes, usually so guarded and introspective, softened as he listened. He gave a slight nod, an unspoken acknowledgment of the depth of my words .
My fingers idly twisted and folded the edge of my beach towel, and I continued, “I’m trying to switch my focus, you know? From how others see me to how God views me. But I’m still a work in progress.” I laughed softly. “And can you believe it? I actually threw away that blue bikini.” I scrunched up my nose as I said it. “It was a part of me that no longer fits with who I am becoming. It’s strange how letting go of something so small can feel like a big step towards something much more meaningful.”
“Yeah, I get it. The type of swimsuit doesn’t matter, it’s the way you feel about yourself. This swimsuit is also gorgeous, though,” he said and pointed to my purple number.
“It’s my training swimsuit, so it’s super secure and a touch more modest. I never thought I’d get approval from the beach police. I’m honored.”
Weston simply chuckled, a half-smile lingering on his face as he seemed to ponder my words. His reactions were always subtly expressed but genuine, and I found it endearing how he absorbed my playful banter without an overblown response.
His eyes, that deep hue of gold, lingered on me, the corners crinkling slightly as his smile widened just a touch. There was something magnetic about the way he looked at me, something that made my heart pound harder in my chest.
Silence settled over us. I looked at the open book in my hands, my previous interest in it completely forgotten. I stole a glance at him. He was looking out into the distance now, his profile highlighted by the gentle morning light. I tried to focus on the printed words, my fingertips skimming lightly over the page as if that could magically draw my attention back to the story. But it was useless. Each word I read blurred into the next, every sentence falling flat. My thoughts, like tiny moths drawn to a flame, were all pulled towards Weston.