Hallie Weibel
Liberation (3 of 11)

When I met him at the door, disappointment followed him in the
form of his best friend.  Jared always teased him about dating me,
a townie two years younger, and when he was around Travis always
pulled that adolescent “not in front of my friends” crap.  They stood in my kitchen, all dressed up in their church clothes.  Trav's hair was gelled in that piecey, preppy way, the perfect small town hero.  Accented by his navy plaid shirt, his blue eyes charmed me from the doorway, erasing my anger.  With two pink roses in one hand, he kissed my cheek quickly. 

“I hope you’re not mad, but I forgot we have to go to some graduation parties today,” he said. 

“What time will we be back?” I asked.  “Are jeans okay or should I change into something more dressy?”

The boys exchanged awkward half-glances.  They apparently hadn’t planned on a third wheel.  Like always, I held my tongue when he asked if that was okay.  Nothing would change if I said it wasn’t.  I realized he’d probably never had intentions of spending the day together.  Silently, I hated him as he kissed me goodbye.  “Maybe we’ll do something tomorrow,” he called as he pulled out of the driveway.  Maybe I wouldn’t be waiting here tomorrow. 

I vaguely remember sleeping on an old couch downstairs that night, cold and uncomfortable.  Someone had passed out on top of the only blanket and I was freezing.  We’d been at a graduation party, dancing and drinking, when these college guys Ally knew told us about a kegger at their rented farmhouse.

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