Every Kiss
Page 3
I slip my hand into his. “Callie, and also embarrassed.”
He shrugs, still holding my hand. “Don’t be. Where did Shane and Makenna go?”
“Picking up a few last minute things. They shouldn’t be much longer.” I realize we’re still holding hands, and I pull mine away. “Maybe I should call them and let them know you’re here.”
“No need. Shane was the one who told me to be here at this time. He even texted me to see if I was here yet, right when I was pulling in the driveway.”
“Well, that must mean they’re on their way, then.” God, I hope so. This guy is intense. Although I’m glad I was wrong about his appearance, I expected Shane’s brother to act more like him. Always smiling, fun, playful. His brother, on the other hand, is broody and dark. The fact that he’s also powerfully mysterious and sinfully sexy is beside the point.
Jeez, Cal.
“So, uh . . . I think I’ll go upstairs and touch up my makeup.”
“You don’t have to run away on my account. You stay. I’ll go.” He doesn’t allow me to respond. He just bounds up the stairs and into the room adjoining mine. I guess it’s not Shane’s room next to mine after all. It’s his. Luckily, Shane mentioned that no one would be staying there, so I guess he’s not planning on being here all night. I don’t know how I’d ever sleep, knowing he’s just on the other side of the wall.
I grab my cell phone from the counter and send Makenna a text. She needs to hurry up and get her ass back here.
Me: ‘Just met Wes. NOTHING at all like Shane. Get back here and save me from Mr. Moody.’
And within seconds, she replies.
Mak: ‘Moody? Wes? He’s a man of few words, but he’s always sweet.’
Before I can start my reply, he appears again, grabbing his forgotten glass from the counter and snagging the bottle from the cabinet. With a terse nod in my direction, he goes back upstairs.
Me: ‘Man of few words. Totally. Sweet? You’ve got to be kidding me.’
Mak: ‘Not at all.’
Me: ‘In less than 10 mins, downed a glass of whiskey, working on a second, and took the bottle with him. Pretty sure he hates me. I’m telling you…moody.’
Mak: ‘Shane says something must be wrong. Be there in five.’
True to her word, Makenna walks through the door with Shane only minutes later with a huge cake box.
“Anything left in the car that I need to get?”
Shane drops the bags on the counter. “Just the ice left, but the cooler is too heavy. I’ll get it in a minute. Where is he?”
I point upstairs.
His sigh is almost a groan. “Damn it.” He begins to ascend the stairs and waves his hand at everything left out on the counter. “Hey, Mak, don’t worry about all that stuff. I’ll take care of it in a bit. You can go ahead and get ready.”
“Okay.”
“What’s that all about?” It seems like there’s a big piece of the puzzle that I’m missing here.
“I’m not entirely sure. But I have a feeling it has something to do with his mom.”
“What would their mom do to piss him off like that?”
She shakes her head. “Not their mom. Just his. Shane and Wes have the same dad, but Mrs. Baxter isn’t his real mom.”
“Okay, so what would his mom do to make him so upset? Not come to see him on his birthday?”
Her mouth twists around for a minute, clearly thinking of what to say. “I doubt that’s the issue because, from what I’ve heard, aside from the day he was born, he’s never met her.”
Oh.
HELLO, MY NAME is Callie, and I’m a habitual eavesdropper.
I’m trying to appear engrossed in what’s on television, but it’s not really loud enough for me to hear anything. Lucky for me, I’ve seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s enough to know exactly what’s been said, in case I’m caught. At least that’s my brilliant plan.
Shane has been in there with Wes for nearly an hour, and I’ve been trying to pick up on anything said. At first, I was getting bits and pieces because it was more than a little heated. I don’t think Wes is mad at Shane, but . . . somebody. Now, though, I can only hear a muted murmur, and it’s driving me crazy. Makenna has been upstairs getting ready, so maybe she’s picked up on more of the conversation. I’m dying to know what the deal is.
Don’t judge me. You’d be doing the same thing if you were in my fabulous red shoes.
As soon as I hear a door open upstairs, I snatch the remote from the cushion next to me and turn up the volume a little. Maybe I can pry a little info from Makenna now; she knows how nosy I am.
But it’s not Makenna who slumps into the couch next to me. I quickly discover that the mixed scent of cologne and whiskey make an interestingly appealing combination.
“Sorry if I was an ass earlier.”
I cut my eyes at Wes. “You weren’t.”
“Moody, then. I believe that’s how you described it.”
“Your brother has a big mouth.” Blushing. Again.
He snickers. “If I hadn’t been cut off, I’d drink to that.”
I turn toward him and take notice of the glassy sheen in his eyes. “Two drinks and you’re cut off, huh?”
“Four. And yeah. At least for a while.”
What the hell. “Want to talk about—”
“No,” he interrupts.
“Okay.”
Yeah, man of few words, for sure. I feel like both conversations that we’ve had so far have been more like tennis matches, volleying short, staccato sentences back and forth. And I’m definitely losing the game. The silence between us now, though, is far stranger than the uncomfortable banter. It’s irritatingly loud somehow, compelling me to break the quiet with any random thought that crosses my mind.
But he does it for me.
“I’ve actually seen this movie before. It’s not bad. I like this chick.”
Oh, thank God. Not only is he talking, he’s speaking my language. “You’re telling me you like Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Don’t you get your man card revoked for saying something like that?”
“Does a guy with a little culture freak you out, sweetheart? Or do you only date cavemen who grunt and scratch themselves?”
I’m beginning to think I’ve pissed him off, but when I look over at him to explain I’m kidding, he flashes a bright smile at me. Oh my . . . that smile. It’s like a punch in the gut, and I’m suddenly floundering for any form of response. Once all those dark clouds of his float away, he’s actually incredibly hot.
He has the same crystal blue eyes that Shane does, but that’s where the similarities end. Shane is of average height and is barely taller than Makenna. He’s broad and has a more athletic, stocky build. Shane’s facial features are softer, more rounded, and he always keeps his short hair perfectly placed and his face clean shaven.
Wes, on the other hand, is unusually tall. Okay, I know, most people are tall to me, but he must be at least 6’5” or so, if I’m guessing right. His long, lean frame isn’t without muscle, though. His broad shoulders and arms are accentuated by the tight black t-shirt pulled taut across them, and it also allows me to see the muscle rippling across his stomach when he reclines back and props his feet on the coffee table. Soft stubble covers his square jaw and extends upward toward his sharp cheekbones. He reminds me of a Greek statue—but with more clothes. His hair makes me want to dig my fingers in. It’s a little long on top, almost hanging in his eyes, and its unruly ends have no semblance of order.
No, he’s nothing like Shane at all. But I’ll be damned if I can make myself think that’s a bad thing. Chalk that up to my affinity for bad boy assholes, I guess.
“See something you like, sweetheart? You’re staring awful hard.”
Oh, shit. What the hell is wrong with me today? Okay, Cal . . . get your head back on straight and play it cool. “Not particularly. Just trying to figure you out. Are you bipolar or something?”
“No, but women, in general, make me moody. They�
��re all so damn frustrating.”
I scowl at him and turn back to the television. Holly Golightly picks up her cat and walks to the fridge. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this movie, I always think she’s going to put the cat in there. When she starts describing the “mean reds,” I raise my eyebrows at Wes. “Maybe you just need a trip to Tiffany’s to make you feel better.”
He snorts. “If it means I get to go to New York, then sure. I’d do just about anything to get away from here for a few days. But, no, I’m the lucky bastard who took off work tomorrow because my brother wanted to throw me a birthday party in the middle of the week.”
“Well, it is spring break. But I have to agree with you on doing anything to get away. Even if it’s just for a day.”
“Oh, come on.” He rolls his eyes at me. “I seriously doubt your life is all that complicated. Doing your homework and stressing over which shoes to wear with your dress hardly constitute the need to get away. You have it easy right now, sweetheart. I suggest you enjoy it.”
I gape at him. “You don’t know me. You have no right to judge whether I have a lack of complexity in my life. Believe me, I have just as much shit going on as you do. Jerk.” Who is this self-centered asshole? How could Makenna ever think he’s sweet?
Even though I’m glaring at him with every ounce of fury in my being, the bastard starts laughing at me. Not just a little giggle, either. He’s full-on bellowing. I start to get up to make a statement by storming out of the room, but he grabs my elbow and pulls me back down.
“Don’t leave.” He tries to stifle another roar of his amusement, attempting to appear sincere, but a hint of a smirk still shadows his lips. “I’m sorry, and you’re right. I’m being an ass. I don’t mean to direct it at you. Today has been twenty different shades of screwed up, and I’m not taking it well. Most girls don’t call me out on my bullshit, so you caught me a little off-guard. But surprisingly, I actually like it.”
I’m still not too convinced that he’s not bipolar. “Makenna told me that she thinks the reason for your mood swings is because of your mom. Is that true?”
That hint of a smile disappears in a flash. “How much do you know?”
“Nothing much other than what I just said. She told me that you and Shane have different moms and that you don’t really know yours. That’s all.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. I don’t want to talk about it, especially with you.”
Well, if that wasn’t a slap in the face, I don’t know what is. “Fine.”
We sit in complete silence through the rest of the movie, and having him in the room makes the gooey, sappy ending scenes unusually uncomfortable. I keep praying for Shane or Makenna to come downstairs to rescue me, but they never do. And I’d go upstairs to find her myself, but I have a feeling he’d stop me from leaving.
Even though I hate to admit it, I know what he’s feeling. It’s a strange place to be. You’re pissed at the world and you want to be alone, but then again, you can’t stand the thought of the miserable solitude. I don’t want to empathize with him because he’s such an ass, but I can’t help it. That’s why I stay rooted in my seat, offering him the silent companionship that he doesn’t want to admit he needs.
Finally. Finally, the ending credits begin to roll, and he grabs the remote from the table to click the power button. I sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye, and he’s just staring into the darkness of the screen, fixated on everything and nothing at all. “I, uh . . .” His voice is as quiet as a whisper, the edges softened by vulnerability. But his slack jaw clamps shut at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Shane and Makenna walk into the room hand-in-hand, and before anyone can speak, Wes stands and shoves his hands deep in the pockets of his low-slung jeans. He walks toward the kitchen, only stopping by Shane to say, “Thanks for putting me on babysitting duty.” And he slips out the back door.
Yep. Still an asshole. “What the hell is his problem?” I ask Makenna after Shane takes off after him.
“I don’t know the whole story either. But I did confirm it’s about his mom. I had a feeling because Shane told me a few days ago that her name was on the caller ID. She’s never reached out to him before, but he doesn’t want anything to do with her. This afternoon, though, he went home and nearly tripped over a gift basket she left at his front door. She somehow found out where he lives, and I think that really has him bugging out. Shane has been sworn to secrecy, and he told me a lot more than he probably should have. Just try to be forgiving of Wesley’s behavior. I promise he’s not normally like this. He has a lot eating at him right now.”
“Obviously. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking he’s a butthead.” I fill her in on all of the conversations we had while she was upstairs, and while I’m complaining about him, I can’t help but thinking about how superficial I sound. He’s going through something huge, and I’m whining about the attitude he had toward me. I can be a bitch on a good day, so maybe Mak is right. I should give him a little slack. Besides, it’s just one night. I can put up with him for a few hours, and once other people get here, I probably won’t have to see him at all.
Shane comes back inside, putting a stop to our talk. He stops at the kitchen island, leaning over to rest his elbows on it and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’d think I’m the big brother in the family. He’s four years older than I am, and I’m taking care of him.” He straightens and shoots an apologetic frown my way. “He doesn’t mean it, Callie. It’s just not a good day for him.”
“I know. It’s okay.” I’m a little shocked that he’s that much older than Shane, making him twenty-six. Just over five years older than I am. No wonder he said he was babysitting me.
“Thanks for understanding, but he does owe you an apology. Makenna, people are going to be arriving soon. Will you help me iron my shirt?”
She nods and follows him. I know that was code for “I need to talk to you in private” when I hear him whispering to her on the way up to the room. “He’s on the phone with my dad right now.”
I swear this is the most stressful, dramatic party I’ve ever been to, and it hasn’t even started yet. It even tops the time my friend, Grace, caught her boyfriend sucking face with Jamie Mitchell in the linen closet at her birthday party a few years ago. Seeing the time, I decide to go reapply my lip gloss before other people get here. The entire time I was alone with Wes, I was chewing on my bottom lip—a bad nervous habit of mine—so I know what I applied earlier is far gone.
I take my heels off at the bottom of the stairs and pad up them as quietly as I can. I’m not eavesdropping this time, I swear it. But if I happen to overhear something, it’s totally not my fault. Okay, fine. I’ll try not to listen.
Once I reach the top, I’m met with complete silence. Damn, Shane is really good at this secretive thing. I slink into my room and shut the door behind me, immediately appreciating the serenity and privacy. Being able to have this space to myself is surprisingly nice, and I’m relieved to have a break from the thick tension in the air around Wes.
After touching up my lip gloss, I open the door leading to the balcony and fill my lungs with the crisp, cool air, one of the best feelings on this planet. I love cool weather, so the impending approach of summer always makes me depressed. Don’t get me wrong. I love the feel of sun on my skin, but I can still have that in the winter if I take my jacket off.
Deciding to take a private moment to appreciate my five minutes of solitude, I fish my mp3 player and earbuds from my purse and go back out to the balcony to sink into one of the cushioned wicker chairs. Scooting down to the very edge of the seat, I prop both feet on the iron railing and switch the player on to find my favorite playlist. Just before shoving the tiny speakers in my ears, I hear Wes talking on the phone in the yard below.
“Dad, don’t you dare patronize me. I swear, if you told her where I live, you and I have nothing else to say to each other.”
I quickly drown him out with
the haunting riff of an expertly played guitar, cranking up the volume and closing my eyes, effectively shutting out the entire exhausting world. Sure, I could probably listen in and have all of my nagging questions answered, but there are certain lines that even I won’t cross.
Knowing that I’m in my favorite kind of oblivion, I succumb to the peace of it. I listen to the evocative emotion in the lyrics, allowing the singer to pull me into his own deeply profound thoughts. Pain. Desire. Undying love. The search for something unknown. Every song is different, yet they each leave you with the same underlying current of passion for life. The good and the bad. This is the reason I use music as my escape.
I have no idea how long I’ve been out here in my own little world, but I’m sure Makenna will come looking for me any second, so I force my eyes open and yank out my earbuds. The combination of the sudden light and nearly perfect silence is a shock to my senses, and it takes me a second to fully adjust. The first thing I notice is the setting sun, casting a warm, golden glow over the trees swaying in the gentle breeze. The scene before me is calmingly beautiful, causing a smile to creep onto my lips.
Still stuck in my temporary state of euphoria, I pull my now-stiff legs off the railing and stand, stretching and smiling uninhibitedly. But as I turn to go back inside, my moment of pure soaring ecstasy crashes and burns. “Jeez, Wes! You scared me to death! Do you always stare at people who are blissfully unaware of your presence?”
“You’re kinda cute when you think no one is watching you.” He leans against the outside of the door frame and folds his arms over his chest.
“Happy to entertain you, but you’re off babysitting duty now, so there’s no need to check up on me.” I try to get past him, but he steps right in my path. Being so short without my heels on, I smack my face right into his chest. “I need to get back downstairs. Will you please move?”