Wesley

by Leanne Davis

“Even if Wesley got in the way. Where is he now that you mention him?”

  “He lost his mind over something so small. We have a lot to talk about. Certain things trigger him to run away and disappear.”

  He shakes his head. “That guy’s got serious issues.”

  “Ones I’ll probably never get through. Believe me, I’ll get punished through him.”

  Wyatt wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I don’t want you being punished. You are saying words I should have said.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder. Quiet falls. It hurts to let go of what should be but isn’t. It’s sad to change. My heart aches, even though somewhere deep inside me I know this is right.

  “Wesley has these things on his back. I saw them when we passed in the hallway.” Wyatt says.

  I turn my face up to his, surprised Wyatt even mentions them. “Cigarette burns from when he was eight. Some monster put her cigarettes out on him.”

  Wyatt shudders. Then he does it again. “That… I didn’t know.” His tone is different than I’ve ever heard it. He’s as disturbed and upset as I was.

  “I know. I didn’t either. The most fucked up part? He thinks he’s okay from it.”

  “He okay to you?”

  “Yeah. He is. He really is. Are you going to kill him when he shows back up?”

  Wyatt sighs. “No. I won’t. For your sake only. And maybe because of the scars. That’s pretty brutal, and I guess I could see the guy having some issues after such harsh treatment as a child.”

  I snort. “Some issues are a vast understatement.”

  We fall quiet. “You sure about this?”

  “Yes. You are, too, and you know it.”

  “I just wish it wasn’t this way.”

  Wyatt kisses the top of my head. I tilt my head to smile at him. “We even break up well. Mature. Respectful. Kind. Ending as friends… we should write a book.”

  “We should. But it’s not easy, and I wish this wasn’t the way it went.”

  “Me neither.” Gracefully, we end. Wyatt and me. We sit there for another half hour, swaying the bench, talking of nothing, or just little things. Things we remember about us. Little things about school and the café and all the stuff we always liked to talk about. Except now we’re done. Different. Friends.

  That means I can spend more time with Wesley. Whatever that might portend.

  Chapter 13

  DANI

  I keep my head down as I scribble on the pad what the man before me wants for lunch. I smile just as he finishes talking and take his menu with a polite, “I’ll go get your order started.”

  Turning from the table, I spot Wesley entering the front door, which is unusual. My stomach twists. Good. He came back. But then, crap! He came back.

  Our gazes meet, and we stare at each other, unsmiling and unmoving for a long moment. It feels like the crowd disappears, and my vision narrows exclusively to him.

  My breath is stuck in my chest. I have to force my gaze down and move. My legs have to move, or the entire town will know I have the hots for the new server. They already believe that I date the star football player, the pride and joy of Silver Springs. So, I don’t want anyone suspecting what I feel. I turn, breaking our eye contact and feeling clumsy as I walk past two tables and the long serving bar. There is a woman who asks for a refill with a shake of her glass. I snag it and add it to my tray, quickly retreating through the swinging door into the kitchen. I fill the cup with soda and set the order near Sally, the day cook. Then the other server comes in. “Can you hand this to the lady at table five?”

  “Sure. Hon. Break time?”

  “Yes,” I say but my brain is firing in twenty different directions, none of which have anything to do with the café or my work. Just Wesley. He comes in just as the server ducks through the door.

  We stare at each other now, separated only by one counter and a few feet. The cook comes in from the supply room behind me. She says hi to me, but I ignore her. I’m riveted on Wesley. I lick my lips and try to find the words to make a conversation. Hi. Hello. I’m commanding my lips and tongue to form a simple greeting and yet we still stare. He’s going to run off again. I can feel his anxiety. His mouth is tense with lines bracketing his lips, and his jaw is clenched. His eyes gleam with concern and intensity. He’s way too stressed, far more than I am. I’m just confused. A little embarrassed by the kiss that he fled from, but I can only wonder what is going on in his head.

  “Wesley,” I breathe out his name. “I was about to take a break. Join me?”

  Join me? I want to roll my eyes at my prissy sounding request. Ugh. I sound like I want to reprimand him for not getting the water spots off the dishes. But I flip around, too confused and annoyed to stress over it. I take off my apron and stomp out the back door. Tara and Chloe will just have to wait for me to return before Wesley can start working.

  He follows me, thank God! I wasn’t sure. But I cross the back of the building and go to the side. There’s a picnic table for staff to use in a small area that backs up to the woods. No one else is around, so we’ll have some privacy

  I sit. He sits across from me. Great. There we are. Both staring at our own hands that rest on the table top, careful not to touch, either our hands or our gazes. “What time do you start?”

  “I don’t today.”

  I suck on my lip. Okay. He came to find me. Or else he came to grab his last paycheck and leave. But I know that can’t be because he hasn’t reached his total yet, so Tara wouldn’t give it to him.

  “Right.”

  He’s got nothing more to say. He sits there staring at me. He swallows hard, and it seems to be an extraordinary effort for him.

  I clear my throat. Okay, this is going to have to be all me. “So… Wyatt and I broke up.”

  My casual tone and catchy opener does its intended job and his gaze shoots up to mine. His eyebrows rise with surprise as his eyes widen in disbelief.

  “What happened?”

  I have so many more things to say, but I keep it simple for now. “I just realized it was a mistake.”

  “We were the mistake, not you two.”

  “It was a mistake with us. I was involved with Wyatt and should have broken up with him first.” I suck in more air. Here it goes, I add, “Especially when I realized I had feelings for you that I shouldn’t have.”

  “I didn’t want you to do that.”

  “Well, it wasn’t about what you wanted. Wyatt and I were and are about what we each wanted. We have always been best friends, and we realized we mistook it for romance, but it wasn’t. It was an ideal companionship, a perfect friendship full of fun and understanding, but it wasn’t the right kind of love.”

  “You made a mistake. I’ll leave. In three weeks’ time. I’ll be gone from here forever. The thing is: I’m not going anywhere in particular, so there will never really be anyplace you’ll be sure to find me.”

  “Yes.” I agree, keeping my tone and facial expression mild. It’s as if he told me the results of a football score or the weather forecast for tomorrow.

  “So—”

  “So, who better to have a quick fling with to help me get over Wyatt?” I flip out and don’t believe there is anything casual about Wesley and me. Not after his sprint away from me following our one kiss.

  He jumps to his feet. “I can’t. I’m not interested, Dani.”

  I slowly rise and rub my sweaty palm on my uniform. “Right. That’s why you fled from me? There was something far more to that.”

  “I realized I made a mistake, and now I’m going to get kicked out of the house I live in.”

  I nod and pretend I believe that, shrugging and slipping my hands into my pocket. “Right. That makes sense. I guess that’s a legitimate concern. All right. That makes things easy, right? We shared a quick kiss. No big deal. I’m glad we figured this out.” I spin and stride away, slow and relaxed. The opposite of what I want to do, which is give him the idea that I believe him.

  However, I don�
�t. I don’t believe any of it. Whatever happened with us is odd and weird and nothing about it is casual. His reaction was full-on panic and far more than worry about Wyatt or the Kincaids. I’m going to figure out what it all means. But not here. Not at work. Not with Chloe and Tara just around the corner with countless other adults. He knows that, too. He knows I have limited time. That’s why he came here. He came here purposely to have this conversation where he believed he could control it.

  Fine. He had his say.

  I’ll control what gets said in the next conversation.

  It’s easy enough to figure out where Wesley will be. I just asked Jacey. She knew right away what my sudden change in boyfriends was all about. We kept in contact in case we spotted Wesley. I let her know he showed up at my work, and she answered me an hour later, saying he came by the Kincaids’, but only she was home, so no one else has spoken to him yet.

  “Where is he?” I texted her after work. She didn’t ask which “he” I meant. She replied that Wesley was at the Kincaids’ beach. She also said he hadn’t been to the house since he disappeared on Thursday. It was now Sunday. They were worried about him, but neither Jacey nor Wyatt explained anything to them.

  I park where the Kincaids won’t see my car and take the long way down to their beach. Fine. This is better than trying to draw him out of their house. He’s sitting on the log we used to sit on together. I changed into shorts and took my hair out of the braid I keep it in for work. It now rises up and all over my head, getting into my eyes. I brush it away with a small curse. That is why I so rarely let it loose or free like this.

  He notices me only when I stop only a few feet from him on the beach, right in his line of sight. His gaze is down, and he’s flipping little rocks at a stick stuck upright on the sand. Trying to hit it? His thoughts seem far away from what his actions say. He lifts his eyes up when my feet enter his periphery. He jolts upright and again, we’re staring at each other.

  “You were scared.”

  “Of you?” he snorts.

  “No. When we kissed. You were afraid of whatever you felt because of it. I’m not sure. I just know what I saw in your eyes. You were there kissing me one moment, and way into it, and then you bolted! Sprinting away in panic. In fear. Like an emotional terror.”

  “I was not! I just fucked up. You and Wyatt…”

  I know this isn’t going to be easy. I can’t cling to my pride. I wish he’d get up and take my hands or express some kind of interest. But while waiting for that, I worry I’ll never get past whatever this is. Is it some kind of emotional road block for him? Something that our kissing unleashed inside him?

  I have to be the one to initiate this if only to find out what is wrong with him, what our kiss triggered in him. I think I’m emotionally healthy enough to know it wasn’t me per se. It was way too strong a reaction to believe it was about sharing a simple kiss with me. No, it was something bigger than that moment, and it took Wesley back to something from his past. To his life that was tumultuous and unprotected, where his guardians were the abusers and aggressors of violence, bullying the much younger, smaller, sweeter Wesley.

  I tell myself that I can handle this. I want to handle this. Even if only for now. I’ve lived my teens as if Wyatt and I were destined to be joined forever. Everyone assumed we’d always be together, which meant marriage and kids someday. I’d be an orthodontist and he’d do something in business. His plans. My plans. Our plans.

  I never once questioned the sameness of it. I never wondered what it would be like to not know where we’d live, work, or even marry. I didn’t know what it was like to just be young and in the moment.

  Wesley lives in the moment. I have to know that going in. I do. I think. Or at least as much as I can make myself admit. I hope I’m not romanticizing this. Wesley will leave, no matter what. He can’t just stay with the Kincaids. Good Lord, if this goes how I want it to, he’ll have “stolen” the Kincaids’ son’s girlfriend. Not really. But that will be the general outside perception. So, I can’t see how he’ll end up staying past the time limit of his debt repayment.

  I step forward, dropping to my knees in the still warm sand as shadows linger from the sunset. Farther down the river, the sky has turned a soft white and orange, indicating the lingering end of summer twilight. The shadows fill the earth as a pleasant breeze caresses my skin. I kick my sandals off.

  He’s surprised to find me here, and I am close enough to be right under him and make his eyes touch mine. With a deep breath, I make myself go against the stony, unfriendly look on his face. In the time I’ve known Wesley, he’s never been cold or mean. Never. He’s not like that. He had to protect himself from a world that tossed him around and treated him badly, but at his core, he isn’t naturally cold or mean.

  I can’t save him or change his impression of the world. I can’t give him parents or a guardian to care and look out for him. The closest to someone like that would be Ryder, Wyatt’s own dad. No, I can’t give him that. I can’t make up for the deep hurts and lifelong distrust he has for the world.

  But I can ask about it. I can listen to him and let him talk or let him know that someone cares about his experience. His hurts. His pain. And all the permanent damage it caused to his self-esteem.

  I see it in his eyes. I saw it before he ran away from me. His hands are on his thighs now, planted there as if he’s trying to keep himself anchored. He’s tense, ready to bolt. I feel it. I scoot forward and put my hands on his knees, feeling the denim of his jeans stretch over the muscles and tendons of his strong legs.

  His breathing escalates. I wish I could say it was because of my close proximity making his hormones go crazy in unbridled desire for me. But it feels different than that. It feels… again, like he’s afraid. But afraid of what?

  “Wesley?” I really don’t know what to say to draw out any words from him. Could any words match his distress? I keep my voice low, soft, and soothing. I lean forward far enough that I can rise up on my knees. I scoot forward and separate his knees, opening them and sliding between them. His gaze is down now. Laser-focused on the sand or the rocks or maybe his own thigh. I’m not sure exactly, but he’s immobilized. He doesn’t shift his eyes as I come closer. His hands lay flat on his legs, yet he fists his hands to show his distress at my nearness. I reach up and touch his face, cupping my hand on his cheek and jaw. It takes every ounce of my emotional strength to make myself move past this disinterested, cold wall he has erected. Blaming it on Wyatt is how Wesley reacted to our kiss, which is not anywhere within the range of normal.

  His breathing halts. His eyes flicker to my hand and then away, as if a bee just stung him. “Wesley?” His nostrils flare, and his jaw juts forward. He looks like he’s about to tell me to fuck off before grabbing my hand and flinging it and me away from him.

  But no. He doesn’t move or breathe even.

  “What is it?” It’s too simple. I just know it isn’t this. I mean, I feel guilty at betraying Wyatt and kissing another guy. The guilt sits heavily on me, but it couldn’t turn me into this. I’m afraid to move or make eye contact with him.

  Courage time. I pull myself closer and place my other hand on the other side of his chin so I’m cupping his lower face in my hands. He’s not acknowledging my touch. I lean forward and press my forehead against his. “It had nothing to do with Wyatt.” I breathe on his cheek as I move my lips, and he flinches. Pressing my lips on a lower spot on his cheek and moving over to the side of his mouth, I move my lips onto his mouth. I’m careful to keep it soft and chaste like I might kiss Wyatt now. As my best friend.

  But the heat from even this small kiss sizzles between us, indicating anything but friends.

  He lets me kiss him. I keep my mouth on his, savoring his warm lips. I kiss and kiss him. Moving my mouth to the side of his face again, I kiss his cheek, edging up towards his temple, and down the side of his neck. He relaxes the rigidness of his body and leans into me. His eyes flutter closed, and I know he’s turned on. T
hat fast, I can see my chaste response and soft kisses have captured him. Butterfly kisses probably did the trick.

  I can’t get a grip on him. Or his reaction. I’ve never seen anything close to it.

  My mouth trails back to his, and this time he reciprocates. He kisses me, and I can move and put my arms around his neck. I fit closer to him as I open my mouth to his. My tongue dips into his mouth, outlining his lower lip. His breath changes, and I touch the tip of my tongue to the tip of his. I move my tongue inside his mouth and all the warm and wet has me sinking closer to him. And deeper into his mouth.

  That’s when it happens. Again. The same infinitesimal change in his breathing to the tensing of his muscles. The panic that seems to overtake his body returns. His hands grip my waist, squashing my stomach and releasing me. He does it again, and I think he’s going to fling me backwards, away from him and then run off again. His thighs are suddenly straining to move. I lift my mouth off his and purposely grip his neck tighter. I mean tight. Like a baby clinging to its parent. I hug my body to him. Rising off my knees, I am now sitting on him. My head is resting on his neck. His pulse flutters against my cheek.

  “Wesley…? Wesley… What? What is it?”

  He doesn’t answer. He holds me but he seems ready to push me away.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  I’m stunned he’s finally reacted to me. He suddenly takes his arms and wraps them completely around me, crossing them at my back and bear hugging me tightly to his torso. His arms are big and protective, but he is seeking protection from me. I’m sure of it. Even if I can’t explain it. Or why.

  I let him hug me. And hold onto me. I let him be quiet as he surrenders to it. His thoughts and mixed up emotions seem to need more than I need any answers. We sit this way for about ten minutes.

  I nuzzle his neck and near his ear. He responds. His head tilts. His hands rub me, and I lie flat on my back. He takes in a sharp breath. I straddle him so I can feel his desire for me, and it all works. He’s into me. I’m sure of that much. But this? His reaction is far deeper than that, and it means something much more. Why the panic?