This is my first fanfic so let me know how it all ties together. Enjoy…

A quick note: This takes place after the book is over; so it is kind of an inference on something that would happen after the book has been concluded….if that makes any sense.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen or any of its characters.

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The last bit of sun had barely set over the horizon as I bent down to glance out the window. The last sliver was in view before the light would disappear down into the other side of the world.

Concentrating on this moment in time became impossible as the shouting around me became clearer, like a radio suddenly tuning into focus. I heard orders for more refreshments and finger food blaring in my ears as reality slowly trickled back to me. I sighed, stepping away from the sink and grabbing a plate of meatballs to bring out into the party. As I passed Delia, she gave me a smile before going back to preparing the quiches.

The door swung open as I strode in steadily with the tray in my hand. The inquiring hands reached out after a grand total of about one and a half seconds, plucking the food off the tray quickly. During this daily ritual there are a few things I remember: invisibility and gobblers. You had to keep both in mind constantly, or else everything may turn out to be a disaster. Gobblers are consistently the issue of finger food shortages, and blending in is a server's job. The chaos of this business is just what makes it interesting to me. It's only slightly bizarre, but variety is the spice of life, as they say.

I continued my routine, moving from one corner of the room to the other, avoiding any guests who were reaching for a third meatball. I felt like I was square-dancing around the room, avoiding the gobblers and the guests bumping into me as if I really were invisible. The millisecond the platter was cleared, I snaked around the groups of people to get back into the kitchen. As I pushed through the door to get into the kitchen, I placed the platter on the counter.

"Meatballs were a hit, like always," I commented, pushing a stray strand of blonde hair out of my face and sighing.

"They work like a charm," Delia agreed, going back and forth to gather condiments.

Bert burst into the kitchen a few moments later, wiping a sweat-soaked strand of hair from his face. "There are so many people here tonight," he huffed, downing a glass of water. I had to agree with him. Not only was this party packed, but it was one of the hottest and most humid days of the whole summer season, despite the fact that we were in a drought. Being inside with so many people was like being stuffed into an oven. It didn't really help to actually be standing by an oven, either.

Absentmindedly, as I picked up the next platter of the mini quiche, walking backwards toward the door, Wes came in the opposite end in the same manner and we smacked backs, sending my quiche flying into the air.

Delia turned, her eyes big, as she darted forward as if she could catch them all before they hit the ground. In a snap they all made a light plopping sound as they catapulted onto the floor, spreading across the whole kitchen floor.

"Oh, crap," I muttered as I bent down to pick them all up, my face flushed as the heat was even more evident to my senses.

I heard Delia release a very exasperated sigh and I couldn't force myself to look up at her stressed-out face. Even after having her baby and all, she was still pretty tightly wound during her catering parties.

I saw someone bend down to assist me in my peripheral vision, and after a few seconds of selecting quiche to pile back onto the platter, I looked up and saw that it was Wes. He met eyes with me at the same moment and gave me a crooked grin, the kind that was a playful mock.

I felt an embarrassed smile creep onto my face as I looked away, reaching to pick up a quiche far away. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

I looked up at him with a serious look on my face, but I couldn't resist his quirkiness and choked back a laugh before I stood up with the platter in my hand. Wes followed, adding one more stray quiche to the large pile of ruined ones.

There was a silence before I spoke. "I'm sorry, Delia, I wasn't watching where I was going…"

"We could still use those," I heard Kristy suggest. "I mean, these floors are so clean that I bet it only made the quiche even more sanitary to eat."

"Mhmmm," Monica mumbled in agreement.

Delia's face turned into a mask of horror for a few brief seconds as she answered Kristy's suggestion. "Are you kidding me? There is no way that I would ever serve food that's been dropped on the floor! Maybe someday when you have your own catering service, Kristy, but it's not going to happen in mine." I saw Kristy raise an eyebrow, probably directed toward the remark of her starting her own catering business. I even had to admit, that seemed unlikely with Kristy.

Delia glanced briefly at me, closing her eyes and sighing before she opened them again. "You can just…toss those, Macy. They're no use anymore."

I felt utterly mortified as I slid the quiche into the garbage can. I stood with the platter in my hand, putting a hand to my hot head and exhaling slowly.

"Hey, you okay?" Wes asked, coming to my side and brushing a finger past my shoulder. His hands were warm too, but cooler than mine.

"Yeah, it's just so hot outside. I think I just need some water." I stepped forward to get myself a glass of water, but Wes stopped me and filled up a glass for me, returning in a matter of seconds.

"I know it's not very cool outside, but how about you get some fresh air?" he suggested as he handed the cold glass of water over to me.

I nodded as I took a sip, hearing Wes tell Delia that he and I would be back soon. She told him to be back before the next batch of food was ready, and Wes agreed before leading me out the back door smoothly. I heard him shut it lightly behind him and we found ourselves standing on a smooth patio. We stood for a few moments before he lead me to a bench a few feet away.

As I sat down on the wooden bench lightly, chugging my water, Wes took a seat beside me, watching me as I finished off my water. I sighed, satisfied, as I swallowed the last bit of water, before leaning my head back and staring up at the sky, feeling the humidity hit my face like an invisible force of some kind.

"We're in a drought, you know," Wes informed me suddenly.

"I know," I said, running a hand through my hair and breathing in a bit of fresh air. It wasn't the best weather to ask for, but it was better than being stuck inside.

I let my gaze wander to the large yard that lay before us, with perfectly green grass illuminated in the dim moonlight. "That bugs me," I said.

"What?"

I pointed. "The grass. It's so green, and perfect. It should be brown like everyone else's."

Wes cocked his head to the side, staring out at the yard like tilting his head would make him see what I was talking about. "It doesn't bug me."

I huffed, crossing my arms. He always tried to be so difficult. He laughed at my irritability, poking me in the shoulder. "Hey, lighten up."

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him like a five-year-old would.

There was a silence between us, and I was just about to suggest playing Truth when Wes spoke before I did.

"Let's go out into the grass," he said.

"Why?"

"Just come," he said, holding out his hand to help me up. I took it and he hoisted me out of my seat and started walking into the lawn before lying down on his back.

I stood over him with my hands on my hips, looking down on him as he sighed, satisfied, propping his arms behind his head. He glanced at me and smiled. "Come on, Macy."

I sighed, hesitating, before sitting in the grass and lying on my back next to him, attempting to assume a comfortable position. As soon as I began to relax, I realized that it was breezier in the grass, and you could feel the breeze brushing past your face lightly. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the air.

"See?"

I nodded, smiling. I turned my head towards him. "It's my turn."

"Alright," he agreed, to my surprise, because he normally always argued that it was his.

"Let me think for a few seconds." I was silent as I thought of something to ask. "What is one habit of yours that you wish you could change?"

Wes considered this silently before answering. "I drum on tables a lot. It annoys some people."

"I meant a bigger habit than that…"

"Hey, you didn't specify what kind of habit. I answered your question. Now it's my turn."

"Fine."

"Does your face always get red when you're embarrassed?" he asked.

I blinked. "Wha-what kind of question is that?" I accused. I felt my face get hot.

Wes studied my face for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. "Ha! It does!"

I put my hands up to my cheeks as embarrassment flooded back to me again.

"Hey, you know I'm just messing with you. Don't take it seriously. I mean, I have weird flaws about myself, too, like when I get nervous, I…"

His words sparked an idea in my head. "You…what?" I prompted, smiling as I moved in closer. I had him now.

"I-I…I, well, sometimes…"

I leaned over him expectantly. "You sometimes what?"

"I…well, kind of, occasionally, may…sort of…"

I waited.

"Stutter."

A grin spread across my face. "See? Even you have flaws. I'm amazed."

"And I am amazed that I have flaws, too. I was always a perfect child, you know," he added jokingly. I pushed him lightly and he laughed. I joined in soon, too.

He sat up and kissed me lightly on the lips after our laughter died down and the crickets sang their song into the night as his hand lightly gripped mine. All the while we watched the stars and how they played across the sky, each grouping together and making a different constellation, telling a story. It was kind of like Wes and me. Whenever we're together, we create stories of our own, each colorful and as original as the one before it, each one never ceasing to bring about a smile or a spout of laughter to our time together.

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Weeeee, I finished! I hope you all liked it. I kind of had a writer's block sort of thing going on and thought that would clear some of it up. So, this little oneshot helped me and now maybe I can finally go back to what I was writing before.

Just to inform you all, I'm not, like, a devoted junkie of fanfiction, because I do kind of have a life, so I'm probably not going to be publishing stories a lot on here, but maybe occasionally to clear up some writer's block. Just thought I'd let you know. So I may be popping in and out, living a stress-free fanfiction lifestyle.

Reviews me likey. So please review. Click that little button down there. You know, the one that has the word "review" in it. Yeah, that one right there. Click it. You know you want to.

Happy [early New Year!

---The Happiness Ambiance---