by Tasha Ivey
Speaking of which, I should probably turn one now.
“Why don’t you go out and swim with Wes?” Makenna asks, her question full of false innocence.
I slide my sunglasses to the top of my head and look out at him. “Oh, I didn’t even realize the guys were out there. I think I’d rather stay here and read though. This book is so good. I’ll let you borrow it when I’m finished.”
“Hmm, I don’t think I’d like it.”
“Why not?” I look back over my shoulder at her.
A mischievous smile plays on her lips. “Looks like a pretty complicated read to me. The words are printed upside down.”
My eyes fall to the open book in my lap, and I gasp, slamming it closed and standing to move my chair. “I must’ve just turned it when you started talking to me,” I explain, lying on my towel on my stomach, facing away from Wes.
“Yeah, like a half hour ago. I’ve been watching to see if you’d ever notice, but I guess as long as Wes is out in the water, half naked, it would be hard for anyone to read. But that’s okay. You two can play it cool all you want. You’ll eventually cave. And as long as Shane and I are around for a buffer that’s not going to happen, so we’re going inside for some private time. We’re all going out for your birthday tonight, so be ready by six.”
She stands, crooks a finger at Shane, and walks up toward the house. He immediately stops splashing Wes and follows her, leaving the two of us alone. When I glance back over my shoulder, our eyes meet for only a split second before I turn back to my book, willing myself to comprehend any of the words despite the fact that I can hear him coming closer.
“What are you reading?” he asks as he falls on the towel next to mine.
I pause to show him the cover and go back to reading . . . or pretending to read. He doesn’t need to know which.
He lies on his side, facing me with his head propped into his hand. “Is that the bikini you wore at my birthday party?”
“It is.”
“Are you going to keep ignoring me all day?”
I turn to him, about to say that I’m not ignoring him, when he reaches out and slides my sunglasses off my face. I’m struck by the cool blue of his eyes and the intensity behind them. His hair is still damp with ocean water, and he has sand clinging helplessly to his dark skin. Interesting. I can honestly say I’ve never been jealous of sand before. He’s not helping things by looking like that.
“You look good, Callie. As always.”
I let out a sigh that’s more of a groan. “Distance, Wes.”
“Trying, Callie,” he mocks. “I want you to know that I’m really sorry about how everything happened between us. I wish we could start over.”
I roll onto my side and mirror his pose. “Oh, yeah? Do you really think it would’ve ended any differently? Let’s be honest here, Wes. I think we still would’ve been attracted to each other, and I would’ve ended up in your bed at some point. And being how you are, you would’ve run away like you always do. This is your pattern with every woman, so I don’t know why I’d be any different.”
“Damn, Callie, tell me what you really think about it.” He falls over onto his back and shakes his head.
“You don’t want to know what I really think.”
He huffs out a puff of air. “Well, aren’t you just all self-righteous today? Go ahead and lay it on me. Tell me.”
“Well,” I begin, “I still think you’re a coward. Cowards run instead of facing their feelings, so yeah . . . you’re still a damn coward. And cowards don’t talk about the hard stuff because they’re afraid it makes them look weak. Cowards are also too scared to take chances, even when it’s something worth going after.”
He seems to contemplate that for a minute, but he doesn’t get mad like the last time I told him that. Finally, he shrugs one shoulder and looks over at me. “Okay. Since you put it that way, maybe I am. But I’d rather run scared than end up hurt again. Women don’t have any problem walking away from me, so I’ve learned it’s a lot easier to be the first one to walk away.”
Well, hello. I think he just confessed the root of the problem. He actually opened up to me in a roundabout way. “Are you ever going to tell me what makes you that way? You say that you’ve always been honest with me, but you’ve never told me why you feel like you have to run. Does this have something to do with your mother?”
“Callie, I’ve told you. I’m not discussing my mother with you. It’s just not ever going to happen. All of that is between me and my parents. No one else. But since you’re so intent on digging, I’ll give you a piece of the puzzle.”
I can see the hurt just behind his eyes as he dredges through the painful memories from his past. I don’t want him to feel that way, and I almost stop him, but he needs to talk to someone. He needs to get it out. I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I take his hand and squeeze it. At first, he keeps his hand straight, and I almost pull mine back, but he turns his hand and laces his fingers with mine. “I know it sucks, Wes, but I need to understand.”
“Her name is Sarah. She wasn’t just my high school sweetheart; she was my girlfriend since the third grade. I always knew we’d end up together. If I started a sentence, she’d finish it. She could always cheer me up, even when I didn’t want to be. She was my motivation, my reason for waking up in the morning. I thought we had something special, you know?”
Rubbing my thumb across the top of his hand, I nod.
“Right in the middle of our senior prom, she dropped the bomb on me that she was pregnant. The timing of it was awful, I know. We had a lot of living to do, and it was way too early to start a family, but I knew I wanted that with her. It was just happening a little sooner than I had planned. Our parents weren’t too thrilled about it, but the weekend before our high school graduation, we got married. I wanted our baby to have a good life, to grow up knowing it’s loved every day. I fell in love with it the day that we went to listen to the heartbeat. I was only eighteen years old, but it’s still the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. That was my child. I was a father.”
He swallows hard, trying to fight back emotion and choking on his words. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry or both, but I know this is the most raw and honest I’ve ever seen him. I know he’ll eventually close right back up again, but just like his mom said, he’s split wide open.
“Makenna told me that she miscarried, Wes. I’m so sorry for both of you.”
“No,” he spits out, his words full of venom. “Don’t be sorry for her. She doesn’t deserve anyone’s pity.”
“Look, just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean that—”
He sits up and faces me, still holding onto my hand. “Stop right there. That’s not why, Callie. I’m going to tell you something that no one else but Sarah knows, and you have to swear to me that you won’t say a word to anyone. Not Makenna. Not my family. No one.”
“I promise.”
“Callie . . . she . . . she killed my child. She told me and everyone else that she miscarried, but before she left me, she confessed that she had an abortion. Our innocent baby never even had a chance because she couldn’t stand the thought of having a life-long attachment to me. She wanted away from me bad enough that she murdered my child. I would’ve taken the baby and let her walk away, just like my mother did, but she couldn’t even stand to stay with me long enough to have the baby. That’s not something that I’m likely to forget, Callie. That’s two of the most important people in my life who walked away, who didn’t care what the consequences were. They just couldn’t stand to be a part of my life, so they both made selfish decisions, not caring what it did to me. That is why I refuse to let myself feel anything for another woman. That is why I’ll always walk away first.”
His eyes are filled with unshed tears, but mine are flowing freely. I can’t imagine being so selfish that I’d abort my own child to keep from spending my life with a guy. I definitely get it now. I understand exactly why he feels the need to run,
and that knowledge makes me want to hold onto him a little tighter. His mom is right. Someone needs to chase him, to show him that running isn’t an option. And I’m not even going to mention to him that he let some information slip about his mother. That’s clearly the most raw, infected wound of all, so I’ll let him open that one up another day.
I rise up to sit on my heels, and I throw my arms around him, holding him tight until his body finally relaxes into mine. He buries his face into my neck and wraps both arms around my waist, rubbing his thumbs up and down my sides. Neither of us needs to say anything right now. There’s not anything I could say to heal that hurt, not today. And there’s not anything else he needs to say to help me understand. I’d be scared out of my mind to get close to someone, too, so maybe he’s not as big of a coward as I thought he was. He just has some deep scars and doesn’t want to get hurt like that again. It’s a defense mechanism. Survival instinct.
“I’m sorry, Wes.” I’m finally able to form those words without feeling like crying. “You’re an amazing guy, and you don’t deserve to feel that way. One of these days, someone is going to walk into your life, and if it’s the right person, you won’t be able to make them walk away from you. You just have to be willing to give them a chance to prove it to you. But I also think that you’ll know when she’s the right one. Just trust your gut.”
He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t think it can be any other way. I refuse to go through that again.”
“But tell me something.” I run my fingers through the hair at his nape. “Are you happy with your life? Are you happy spending your nights with Allison, just because you know you don’t like her enough to ever have real feelings for her? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this?”
He pulls back and looks at me. He didn’t ever cry, but the red rimming his eyes tells me that he came close. “I’m happier than I would be if another woman walked away from me. This is easier. Safer. And I haven’t seen Allison since my birthday. I’m done with her . . . not because I have any feelings for her, but because . . .”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just can’t stand to be around her anymore.” Wes pushes my hair back from my face. “Thanks for listening to me whine. This is your birthday, and it shouldn’t be about me.”
Aaaaand . . . the vault closes again. “I’ll listen anytime. Isn’t that what friends are for?”
He smirks, his aquamarine eyes brightening. “I guess so. But you know what just occurred to me?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Shane and Makenna.” Wes looks back at the house. “As much as I hate to admit it, they were right. Their stupid plan might not be so dumb after all.”
I guess he’s right about that. I feel better right now than I have in weeks, and I know it’s because he’s here and we’ve talked. This weekend will end, and I know he’ll go back to his life and I’ll go back to mine, but I only want to think about this moment. Sure, I’d love more from him, but maybe we can actually be friends. The line may always be a little blurred, but as long as we acknowledge it, there shouldn’t be any surprises.
“And I really wanted them to be wrong, so I could let her have it.”
“Well, well, well . . .” Makenna calls out as she walks down the sidewalk leading to the beach. “Didn’t take you two long to hug up to each other.”
Wes drops his arms from my sides. “Well, it didn’t take you two long to take care of business. I’ve tried to tell Shane that slow and steady wins the race, but I think all he heard was ‘race.’”
A bright red flush blooms onto her cheeks. “As long as we both reach the finish line, I’m happy.”
“That’s not how it should be.” Wes winks at me. He’s trying hard to embarrass her. “I’m a fan of the Indy 500, myself. You just make one round after another, going so long you have to stop to rehydrate and refuel before ‘hitting’ it again. Pun intended, of course.”
“So I’ve heard.” Makenna purses her lips and turns to me. She’s practically glowing like a stoplight now. “You should probably think about coming in and getting ready. We’re leaving for dinner in just over an hour.”
Wes starts to push a few more of her buttons, but I smack him to shut him up. “I’ll gather up all of our stuff and be right in.”
“This.” She points to both of us. “I like it. Damn, I love being right.” She spins around and practically prances back inside.
I groan, grabbing my towel as I stand to shake the sand off of it. “And I have a feeling she won’t let us forget it either.”
“OKAY, CAL . . . PICK your poison. Make it something good because you’ll probably always remember the first alcoholic drink you were able to buy on your own.”
I peer at her over the wine list. “It’s just a drink, Makenna. I’m not naming my first born.”
The waitress moves to the other side of the booth to take everyone else’s orders after I order a glass of moscato, awarding me an approving nod from Makenna. She and Shane both order soda, and I’m not at all surprised when Wes orders whiskey and cola. Is it sad that the smell of whiskey on him does bad, bad things to me?
The restaurant we chose is a dine-in nightclub of sorts, and we had to be extra careful in choosing a place that you can get into if you are eighteen. Makenna has several months before she’s twenty-one, and because she can’t drink, Shane isn’t either. They may not be ordering drinks tonight, but the silver lining for me is that I know for sure I’ll have a sober driver to get me home. Not that I plan to get trashed or anything, but after a few glasses of wine, I certainly couldn’t drive. Especially after seeing the size of the wine glass the waitress just brought me.
The dining area circles all the way around the large space. The cozy high-back booths give a little separation from the other diners, but the dance floor is only a few steps away, allowing a full view of the entire floor. We were told that the music would start in an hour or so, so we’ll actually have some time to eat and chat before the music drowns us out.
“I can barely see you over there.” Makenna giggles. “I’ve never been in a restaurant this dark before. I won’t be able to see what I’m eating.”
“Honey, you’ve never been in a club before. They’re all like this.”
“Seriously,” Wes elbows me. “You’ve never dragged her into that club just off campus?”
“I’ve tried.” That’s all I can manage to say with him looking at me like that. He looks delicious as always in his black V-neck tee and low-slung jeans, but something about the soft lighting and the atmosphere in this place only amplifies his appeal. It could be the fact that I can’t stop thinking about where I’ve seen him in dim light before—his bed.
“So what you’re saying is that you’ve never been dancing in a club, right?” Wes is stunned. “How is that even possible? From what the hostess told me while we were waiting for our table, it gets kinda wild in here after eleven or so. You’re getting all kinds of cherries popped lately, aren’t you kid?”
Shane bumps his shoulder against hers when she slumps into her seat, mortified that Wes said that so loudly. “I’m happy to be your first everything. When the music starts, we’re going out there.” He puts a finger over her lips when she starts to protest. “Don’t even try to tell me that one slow dance at my mom’s banquet counts. This is totally different. I promise you’ll love it.”
Three glasses of wine later, despite the fact that we’ve eaten dinner, I’m feeling quite warm and fuzzy. My lips are even feeling a little tingly, so I know I’d better slow down a little. Which is good in theory, I guess. But when the music starts, it does strange things to me. I want to let loose, have a few more drinks, and dance my ass off. This all goes back to my favorite two things about parties—dancing and kissing. I can handle the dancing part, but making out with a guy might be a little more trouble than it’s worth.
Wes has been staring at me all night long, and more than once, I’ve caught him looking at my mouth as if he coul
d devour it right then and there. I bet that he’s had enough to drink to be convinced to kiss me, but at what cost? Do I really want a repeat of the night of the banquet? Okay, a repeat of the sex would be amazing, but I’m thinking about the morning after when he ran away. I really don’t want to feel that again. It sucked.
Shane drags Makenna out of the booth and onto the dance floor as soon as the first thumps of bass pound into the air. I can’t wait to see this. I’m interested to see if she actually dances like she does with me at home, or if she freezes. It could go either way, but I’m leaning toward her freezing.
“Why don’t you go out there and show her how it’s done?” Wes challenges.
“Wesley Baxter, you’re just trying to get me out there, so you can watch me shake my ass.”
He throws his hands up. “Guilty as charged. What if I go out with you?”
“You dance?” Oh, I can’t wait to see this.
“Maybe you should just find out,” he says, sliding all the way around to the other side of the booth to get out. He holds out a hand to me. “Come on.”
I watch Makenna as I approach her, and bless her heart, she’s trying to get into it, but she’s too worried about other people watching her. She looks relieved to see me, so I bump my hip against hers. “Just like we’re at home. Don’t worry about anyone else.”
I’m no hypocrite. I really try to dance like there’s no one else there, but when Wes moves right up against my back and starts grinding on me, I can’t help getting a little caught up in that. I don’t hold anything back. I let the music tell me how to move, and within a few minutes, I find myself moving in perfect rhythm with Wes. His hands slide down my sides to grip my hips, pulling me tight against him. I throw both arms back over my shoulders to link my fingers around the back of his neck, and he surprises me by pressing his face into the crook of my neck, trailing his tongue up from the hollow part and stopping just below my ear, kissing lightly.