by A. J. Sand
“Swift, I need to talk to you. I want to know if you’ve seen my cousin, Char. She’s blonde, petite, looks exactly like me and Abel. She’s been to your house and she was at the Surf for Life party with you and…Lana.” Wes swiped through the pictures on his phone for one of Charlotte; it was one they had taken when she first arrived. Man, how things had changed since then.
Brody looked at it in earnest. “Nope. When Lana and I are together, it’s usually just us, Deuce. Juuuust us.”
Fist. Face. Repeat. So easy. But Wes only sighed. “Good to know.”
Brody’s maniacal smile stretched as he gazed longer at the image. “But…”
“But…”
“Now that I think about it, she does look like someone I might have put my dick in once or twice—”
Rage slicing through him, Wes shoved him hard against the lockers and raised his fist, drawing the attention of the other surfers, but he dropped his hand just as quickly. He pushed Brody out of the way and walked outside to join Abel at the wave machine.
“Uh oh…” Abel said, flicking his eyes up to the crowd and tapping Wes on the shoulder. Lana. Of course she was beautiful as she smiled and chatted with Grayson, their arms linked.
But Wes clenched his teeth. She’s not even fucking upset. “It’s all good, dude…” Wes assured him, though, without the slightest of confidence. He feared his brother would spot it in his eyes, so he turned his focus to the surging water in front of them. “Abel, dude, you can’t go out there. This thing is a legit barrel. You’ve been taking it easy. Haven’t you?”
“What the fuck, mom? Plus, you haven’t seen me surf in a while, and I know it’ll put a smile on your face...since you’ll be witnessing real talent. And remember smiling? You used to do that.”
Wes bared his teeth to mimic a smile. “Fuck you, Mr. Real Talent.”
Abel grabbed one of the mini surfboards and headed into the manmade, forty-mile-per-hour, ten-foot barrel at the call of his name by an announcer. A frenzy pulsed through the crowd as everyone marveled at Abel’s aerial twists and flips, and Wes tried to watch, but Lana had completely captured his attention. Where had she been? Was she with Brody the entire time? Why hadn’t she answered his calls? Lana’s eyes passed over the horde and found him, they took each other in for a moment, but he broke away after he waved at Grayson.
“Deuce!” Abel called as he jogged out of the churning water and signaled for him to join. “Elliott magic, baby!” Wes grabbed a board and went out to chants of his nickname. He and Abel coordinated their moves, doing aerials over each other’s heads, performing the same stunts simultaneously, and mimicking each other’s tricks, much to the crowd’s delight. The exhilaration was certainly a mood enhancer, and Wes was soon shedding his bad feeling.
He hopped out to get another board, went back into the wave with it, performed the Wes Reverse Roll and maneuvered so that he switched boards while in the middle of an aerial and touched down clutching the original board. The pandemonium pressed past its previous peak when he landed the trick, and he swiveled around, beaming beneath cheers. But his mood careened back to irritable when his gaze fell on Lana and Brody talking right in the front of the crowd. He doubted they were really together, but it still hurt like hell to see them; it still felt like a betrayal every time. Maybe she was right, and maybe this was an issue wedged too deep for him. Still, as uncomfortable as it was watching them, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Oh shit! Deuce! Move!” Abel screamed in terror, but Wes didn’t have time to react, and Abel toppled down onto him and they were pulled into the swirl of water together. Alarm spread through the crowd, and the wave machine rumbled to a stop as an anxious murmur of voices rose.
“Always the showstopper!” Abel shouted out with amusement, and everyone’s mood quickly swung back to its jovial tone as Wes got to his feet, but Abel was gripping his shoulder, the (formerly) healing rotator cuff one, as he moved to his haunches from his crumpled position on the floor of the contraption.
Way to go, Wesley. “Abel? Fuck…I’m so sorry…” Wes said, immediately swamped with intense guilt. “Are you all right, dude? Fuck…”
“Yes...” But Abel winced as Wes and Christian helped him up. “You totally broke my fall, bro. Thanks.” Abel clenched his teeth and continued gripping his upper arm.
“Fuck! We should get you to the ER or something. Sorry, bro, I shouldn’t have been standing there…”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Abel joked. “I’m really okay…” But he trailed off as Brody approached just as Lana worked her way to the barrier separating the crowd from the wave machine.
“Brody, stop!” she yelled.
“You know, I can’t tell which Elliott I enjoy seeing on their knees more: you…or that cute little cousin of yours…”
“This is exactly why I finally told the Olins to be done with you,” Lana screamed.
“Charlotte? You know where she is?” Abel asked. “Is she in Orange County?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude,” Brody said. “You should know by now, fucking with you is pretty much my favorite pastime.”
“You are such a douchebag,” Christian said.
“It’s only by the length of a hair, but I like my money and freedom more than I’d probably like punching you until your nose was on the other side of your skull, so I’m gonna walk away now…” Wes said, as he and Christian led Abel off the wave machine.
“Wait. Charlotte’s missing?” Lana asked. Wes walked by her without saying anything or even looking in her direction. “Wes! Wes!”
If I hadn’t been so fucking distracted…
Handle your shit, his brother had told him in Teahupo’o.
Time to handle your shit, Wesley.
*
Hey.
The single text from her came in the middle of another mostly sleepless night in the living room, and he ignored it. He loved her, he still loved her just as strongly, but it was combined with so much pain, too entwined to separate, both feeding off each other’s strength. So, he let the text simmer then fester in the back of his mind for three days without responding as he focused on surfing and a few local Lava-related work obligations, still downing more Lava to get through the days, as the nights seemingly became more sleepless than before she had sent the text.
On the fourth night post-text, the anxiety and fatigue had him more jittery than usual. Images of her and Brody invaded his thoughts and made it impossible to do anything except invent more mind-destroying scenarios of them together in a naked tangle, fucking. Fucking Brody. Fuckin’ Brody. Shit.
His anger hit him like a lightning strike. Wes hopped in the shower, jumped into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed the essentials, grabbed her things—including the painting of her and her easel—and drove to her place. It was a little after one a.m. when Wes pulled into a visitor’s parking spot, heart raging. Her bike was parked in its usual space, so he jogged up to her apartment after dragging the easel up the stairs, and banged on the door. “Lana!”
Footsteps traipsed across the carpet in his direction then the peephole darkened before the door swung inward. Her expression was one of wariness but not surprise. His attraction to her swelled as he took her in. What had he expected? Of course the sight of her would immediately weaken him. Their gazes locked, each searing the other with a pointed glare.
He dropped her things at her feet, his gaze swirling around the place. “Where the fuck is Brody? Is he here?” Wes asked. He fought the impulse to tear through her apartment. This level of jealousy was foreign to him; he felt crazed.
“Is that why you’re here in the middle of the night while my roommates are sleeping?” Lana scoffed bitterly. “You came here to shake the curtains? And sniff through my panty drawer? Be my guest.” She waved her hand in the air and granted him entry to the apartment.
“Did you think I came over to talk?”
“You don’t want to talk at all? Because my text was—”
&
nbsp; “I want anything of mine that’s here. And did you know Charlotte was doing drugs before that night at my house when she showed up with that guy? Did you not mention it because you would have to tell me you were at that Surf for Life party with Brody?”
Lana’s eyes widened as she spun to face him. “She really is doing drugs? Honestly, Wes, I didn’t even know Charlotte was at that party when I got there. I hung around, doing my best to change Brody’s mind, and when I saw Charlotte it was for, like, five minutes. I didn’t pay attention long enough to see if she was high. Yeah, maybe I ducked out because I didn’t want her to see me talking with Brody and have it get back to you.” Lana’s expression turned solemn. “Is she okay? Where is she?” The shock was plain and genuine on her face.
“I wouldn’t know.” Wes scanned her frame, his gaze brushing over her neck, collarbone, chest and legs. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top without a bra. Fuck. She looks good. Heat flared down the front of his jeans, a hint of his beginning erection. “Did you let him touch you?”
“Seriously?”
“Did he?”
“This is really why you came over here?”
“I came to get all my shit and give you yours, but it seems like a fair question considering you got in his goddamn car, and you two can’t seem to stay away from each other. So, did you fuck Brody?”
“Did you fuck Kiera? Yeah, I know people who have been partying at your house. She’s been over a few times, right?” she said, jealousy thick in her voice.
Wes’ jaw clenched. “I’ve been having those fucking parties because of you! Refresher course: Your apartment. Brody. Me. You. My Embarrassment. You not returning my calls or texts. And Kiera doesn’t have anything to do with this but, no, I didn’t sleep with her.”
She bit her lip until he finished speaking. “Sleeping with Brody? Is that what you think of me? Is that what this has been about this whole time?”
He shook his head. “Okay, wait, I didn’t—”
“Yeah, Wes.” Lana’s strides swallowed the distance between them so quickly he’d barely completed his blink before she was inches from his chest. “I fucked him six ways to Sunday, everywhere and, oooh, and I let him put it wherever he wanted, then I let him come all over my face. You happy?”
Her eyes and tone said it was a lie; still, the words were like poison, debilitating to his soul. But her face was too close to his—her lips, parted and so pink from how hard she’d been biting them, her skin, flushed and covered in the glow of sweat, her chest, heaving with the quickening rhythm of her breaths. His senses were too in tune to her. His lust enmeshed his dark feeling, unraveling it, diluting it, until his desire turned his nerves electric.
“That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”
“I just want my shit back. All of it.”
Lana sighed. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Wes. I miss you…can we please talk?” His breathing pattern changed as her fingers curled against his shirt. At her touch, his yearning crashed down on him, and it was a teasing and delicious ache as her fingers skittered down his front. Want radiated out from his core, and a swatch of heat spread across his pelvis.
“No, I’m going…” Wes pushed his face toward hers, nearly slamming their noses. “Just figure out how to get me my shit, Lana. ‘Cause I brought every book of yours and your easel, and I plan to get every fucking thing of mine you ever touched—everything you ever looked at—out of my place. I don’t want to talk; I want you out of my life, though.” She stared back at him with an unflinching expression, and something crackled within him. She was too fucking intoxicating; she had seeped into him, crawled into his veins, and he wanted to grab her mouth and kiss her until neither of them could breathe, until their very survival was at stake.
“Wes, please don’t go…” Her skin was so flushed, and he could smell the sweat on it. He wanted to taste her, swirl his tongue right into her body until her vision blurred, feel her fingers twist and yank his hair. Wes turned for her door, but as soon as he swung it open, she slammed it shut. Lana grabbed the back of his neck and brought his mouth so hard against hers, he was pretty sure he tasted blood from biting his lip. He pressed her against the door, and with a swift pull, she ripped his shirt off him. Wes lifted her and she curled her legs over his waist. Her nails scraped across the width of his back as they kissed with the kind of ferocity and that caused shivers in them both. He savored the familiarity of her mouth, the taste of her tongue he had longed for, as Lana wriggled against his erection; it was digging right into the split of her legs and her nails were clawing into his flesh.
“Fuck…I miss you, too…” he mumbled and he slipped his fingers beneath her tank top, and electricity sparked at his fingertips.
“Take me to bed,” she said breathlessly. “Please, Wes…” He wanted to tell her no so badly. But he knew better than to pretend he could resist Lana Langston, like he wouldn’t have done anything she asked, demanded or begged for. With his mouth pinned to her neck, he walked to her bedroom and fell on top of her onto the mattress. As they stripped each other’s clothes off, their movements were ravenous and feral, like there was a strong possibility that they would rip each other apart and leave nothing but pieces when this was over. He flipped Lana to her stomach, speared her hair forward to expose her neck and dropped his lips to the nape. Lana reached back and grabbed his head and he stuck his hands beneath her body to grip her breasts.
“Wes…” She arched her back as he planted feather-light kisses on the curve of her spine, curling her hands around the sheets. She turned over and whimpered in pleasure when his lips landed on her stomach, and she locked her legs around his torso, hugged him hard against her as she raked her fingers through his hair. He whipped his tongue over one of her nipples and kneaded her other breast.
Lana cried out and drew her nails up his back. And Wes rose above her, cock at her opening, poised to thrust into her, staring down at her beautiful body, craving it, craving their intimacy. Lana’s legs were folded over his hamstrings, and with her leg muscles, she pulled him forward just slightly, and he shuddered from the sensation to his nerves of coming into contact with her body. But Wes didn’t budge.
“Wes…” Lana pulled him toward her again, and his dick brushed against her once more, sending jolts of pleasure ripping through him. “What? You want me to beg?”
“Why should I?” he asked, finding a moment of enlightenment he had lacked before.
“What?” Her expression crumbled from lustful to concern.
“Why should I give you what you want?”
“What?”
“Why should I give you what you want? Did you think about me, and what I wanted and what I felt when you left me in San Diego and then you left me outside your apartment? To go with Brody?” He sat back on his haunches, searching for his clothes.
“I screwed up…”
“That’s your response? You ‘screwed up’? You really fucked me up, Lana,” Wes said as he got dressed.
“I know and I’m sorry. And I want to explain. Let’s talk…let’s talk. Can we start there?” Lana grabbed a big t-shirt off her floor, and when she put it on, his chest blazed; it was one of his.
“No.”
“Is sorry not enough?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so…” He sounded so aloof it bothered him.
“Okay, what can I do?”
“Not leave me in San Diego. Not get in that car with Brody.” The anger, the pain, it was barreling in, muddling everything again. “Maybe I wanted to talk before, way before…but I don’t think I can now…”
“So, you’re just gonna go?”
“Isn’t that what you did?” Wes sighed.
She laughed with some bitterness, hurt flashing in her eyes. “You’re being vindictive.” He was, and it really had not been his original intent, but for a moment, he reveled in how much it made him feel better.
Wes stood up. “I’m walking out the door and I kinda hope you play this moment
over and over in your head. The way the day you left me plays in mine.”
Chapter 13 How to Save a Life
“Is it weird that I’m oddly turned on by that story?” Abel asked after Wes relayed what had taken place at Lana’s apartment a few nights before. The Elliott house was its usual upbeat raucous, but tonight Wes was hiding out upstairs in his brother’s room.
Wes scrunched his nose before he took a sip from a can of Lava. “Uh, yeah…not even oddly weird. Really nasty.”
Abel winced as he slipped his injured arm through the sleeve of his polo shirt. “I was just picturing myself in the situation. Not banging Lana, obviously…”
“Good to know…” Wes laughed and rolled to his back on the bed.
“Why’d you go over there if you didn’t plan on having hot ass make-up sex?” Abel ran his fingers through his hair; his idea of styling.
“‘Cause I didn’t want to make up with her. I wanted to see her. And not see her. And I was thinking about her and Brody because of what Charlotte said. And I knew it wasn’t true but my head is so messed up right now…”
Abel spun away from his mirror. “Why didn’t y’all have, like, I hate you but I love but I hate you so much sex then? You know, angry ex sex. Lana looks like she’d be good at—”
“Stop, don’t finish that sentence. I’m sure it would’ve been awesome. Only Lana could make me horny during an argument. I wanted her, but I was looking at her, knowing how I’m pretty much crazy about her, and I just didn’t want her to win, you know? I wanted her to miss me and feel bad, too. Total immature move, but you know maturity has never factored into Elliott decision-making.”