by Ashley Hall
Chapter Ten
April
I thought it would be easier and easier to ignore him, but it only got worse, especially right now. I was spying on him as he was sitting on the couch, tenderly holding the baby. I couldn’t believe it. Stripped away was his bad boy nature, and it was forcing me to think of him in a new light.
A light that would never go away. I wanted to be the one he was holding, to be sitting on his lap, for us to not be wearing any clothes.
Unreal. I was even more sexually frustrated. How could I get him out of my system? Something was wrong with me. Really wrong with me. I was beginning to get concerned. I had never been like this with Adam or any of my previous crushes. I’d never been…obsessed. There was no other word for it. I was hyperaware of him at all times, always wondering what he was doing, if he thought about me as much as I thought about him.
But why would he be? He had new friends. And Lizzy.
I never had a problem with Lizzy before Wes befriended her. Our social circles didn’t mix much. She was uber popular and hung out with the jocks and cheerleaders. I was beneath the likes of her, and I didn’t care. Popularity didn’t matter to me. I would rather have more quality friends than desperately needing a bunch of people to cling to me as if I was a queen. I didn’t think highly of Lizzy, and she probably didn’t think highly of me either. We just didn’t mix. She slept around. I didn’t. She dated a new guy every two weeks or so. I didn’t. I wanted a meaningful relationship. She just wanted sex.
Well, I kind of wanted sex too, or at least I was curious about it. I’d been kissed a few times, but they hadn’t been on the lips so they didn’t count, and the one boyfriend I dated for a substantial amount of time I didn’t allow to touch me. That had been three years ago, when I had been naïve and unwilling to touch myself, let alone think about actually having sex. I’d never seen a penis, let alone touched one.
Penis. Cock. I mulled the words over in my mind. Penis seemed too vanilla, too goody two shoes-like. Cock. More vulgar. More fitting.
I wanted to touch a cock.
Not just any cock.
Wes’s.
Adam was a good guy. He did volunteer work, he was bright, and he was hot. He was perfect for me.
But I didn’t want him as much sexually as I did Wes. Life would be so much easier if I did. Why was I so drawn to Wes?
I shouldn’t be worrying about this. I should be forcing myself to think about anything other than Wes. I definitely shouldn’t be analyzing my feelings for him. But I lingered there, watching him with Penelope, and I thought I figured it out.
Adam didn’t need me. Not like Wes did. Wes was damaged and hurt and betrayed. His life had been so hard. He needed some goodness in his life.
He sure as Hell didn’t need a girl like Lizzy in it. But could I help him? Or was I just falling into that mysterious bad boy trap? People didn’t change, right? That only happened in movies and books. Not in real life.
Head down, I walked past the living room and went straight up to my room. I lay on my bed and tried to forget about Wes, to blot him out of my mind. But I couldn’t. As I drifted off, my last thought was if he ever masturbated while thinking about me and hoping that he had or that he would in the future.
***
Friday rolled around, and as soon as I walked into school, everyone was buzzing about Lizzy’s party—who was going, who was wearing what, what kind of drinks they planned on having, what drugs might be available to try.
I hadn’t been invited—not that I wanted to be—but Wes had to have been. Was he going? I tried to tell myself it was step-sisterly to care, but my worry was a little deeper than a sister should feel for a brother. It was more than just concern. It was almost obsessive.
At lunchtime, I went to sit with the girls when I spied Wes entering the cafeteria. Before he could go sit with his friends, I rushed over to his side. “Hey, Wes.”
He paused and glanced over at me. “Wes?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. He sounded amused.
I tried my best not to blush. “If you prefer Wesley…”
“You can call me whatever you want.” His lips twisted into a slow, easy grin, and my stomach did a flip-flop. He leaned closer, and I resisted leaning back. “You can scream my name too, if you’d like,” he whispered sensually.
Now I was definitely blushing. Was Lizzy watching us talk? The likes of her would never feel threatened by the likes of me. Wes loved to watch me squirm, that much was very clear, and I wanted to turn the tables on him, or at least try to. “Ever wanted to scream my name?” I countered.
“While I’m stroking my cock you mean?”
I gaped. Yes, I had been thinking and wondering this all week long, but for him to say it out loud, for him to be so vulgar and foul-mouthed around so many people…it was such a turn-on.
Time to change the subject. “Are you…are you going to Lizzy’s party?”
He pulled back, and I immediately missed his closeness. I was sick. There was something wrong with me. He was toying with me. He didn’t really want me. Not like I wanted him.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked causally, maybe with a little attitude. But then he grinned again, cocky as ever. “Are you planning on going?”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head emphatically. “No real reason. I was just wondering.”
He eyed me, and I couldn’t tell if he bought it or not. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
I blinked. That really surprised me.
And it also made me absurdly happy. You haven’t sunken your claws into him, Lizzy.
“You shouldn’t go either,” he added.
Was he looking out for me?
“You’ll get eaten alive,” he finished. Without waiting for me to respond, he walked away and joined his friends, sitting next to Lizzy of course.
Or was he saying I wasn’t in their class? He was definitely more popular than I was, but popularity wasn’t something I ever wanted. I would rather be happy being me than faking it, like some kids did to be a member of the cool kids.
Then again, was I happy being me? I wasn’t sure how I felt about Wes, but I did like that he challenged me. He kept me on my toes. No one ever did that to me before.
A phase. I was just going through the same phase most girls did—falling for a bad boy, the one off limits. It would pass. Maybe then I could finally get Adam to really notice me. Start something with him. Because I shouldn’t start anything with Wes. I was a smart girl, and that just wasn’t smart.
You’ll get eaten alive.
A warning? A threat?
Or a challenge?
***
Dinnertime. Twice a day, I was forced to have meals with Wes and the rest of my family. It reinforced how much I shouldn’t want him, that he was a part of my family. I found it easier to ignore him when we were forced together, so I tended not to talk much during breakfast or dinner anymore. Wes hardly spoke either. P and P and all of the adults more than made up for our silence.
Did he spend his dinners thinking about Lizzy? She had an awful habit of hanging all over him at lunch every day. Obviously he hadn’t told her to stop. They weren’t dating, but was it only a matter of time? She had to be much more his speed. No way was he a virgin, not with his arrogance. Maybe he’d already slept with a Lizzy-type before. Whatever. If he wanted to associate with trashy girls like her, he could go for it. I wasn’t about to stop him. He could make his own decisions, his own mistakes. Because Lizzy and those types were mistakes. They never did anything for anyone other than themselves.
Tonight, the dinner table was quieter than normal. I pushed the peas around on my plate. While I was glad Wes wasn’t going to the party, the more I thought about it, the more his comment bothered me. He thought I was so removed from his friends. Eaten alive. Like I couldn’t handle myself at a wild party. Like I was a child.
“Wesley,” Yvonne suddenly said.
I glanced at her. She hardly ever talked to him. She didn’t talk to
me that much either, for that matter.
“Your hair. It’s a little long, don’t you think? It might be time to get a haircut. A buzz cut might look…nice on you.”
I wrinkled my nose. I liked Wes’s hair. It was the kind a girl could run her fingers through. Lizzy had already. Man, I was so jealous of her. I was thinking about her as much as I was Wes, but for a completely different reason.
Dinner was quickly becoming awkward. Even P and P noticed. They were glancing from Yvonne to Wes.
“A buzz cut, yes,” my dad agreed. He nodded several times.
A buzz cut? Really? It was too military for Wes. At least he wasn’t back talking them. It would only make things worse, although Dad might view his silence as ignoring them, and that wouldn’t be good either. Why were they bringing this up now?
He took a bite of his spaghetti.
“And your clothes.” Yvonne shook her head. “Your jeans hang a little too low, don’t you think, Jacqueline?”
His mom shifted in her seat a little uncomfortably. “Maybe a little,” she murmured, staring at her plate rather than her son.
“Yes. Your clothes, your looks, your appearance…you might want to try a little harder.” Dad put down his knife and fork. “How you present yourself is important. First impressions mean everything. How do you want people to think of you? Do your clothes and appearance work for you or against you?”
Dad’s tone suggested Wes needed to change and yesterday. Still, Wes didn’t respond, but his knuckles were whitening as he gripped his fork. He was furious, and I didn’t blame him. They were ganging up on him, and he was expected to take it without complaint.
“Really, Wesley, you should talk more. We’re having a discussion here, aren’t we?” Yvonne glanced at Dad, who nodded again. “There’s no reason to be so quiet all the time.”
“Your personality is a little…lacking,” Dad said.
Ouch. How could he say that? That was downright cruel! I wanted to say something, to speak up, but I couldn’t. What if I blushed and stammered? I didn’t have a poker face, and if they figured out my secret desire for Wes…
And I knew better than to speak up for another reason. I didn’t want their watchful eye on me. Sometimes it was better to keep your head down. Of course, when they were making comments about your anti-social behavior, it might be the time to speak up.
“If you shaved more,” Yvonne suggested.
“Wore clothes that fit and weren’t ripped,” Dad added.
“Maybe wore some cologne.”
Was she trying to suggest he smelled? At least Mom wasn’t saying anything, and other than the one comment, Wes’s mom was quiet too. This was terrible. I wasn’t even the subject of their criticisms, and I still felt like I was being scolded. They had that way about them, like they knew best, and we were stupid.
No, they only wanted to help us, even if they were talking down to us. While I thought Wes looked good with his slightly wild hair and his stubble, and he looked hot in his clothes, they weren’t exactly the style that screamed professionalism, and I knew Dad was serious about Wes finding a job. Putting one’s best foot forward was the best way to get ahead in life, like Dad would always say.
“Why don’t you ever tell us about your grades?” Yvonne asked. “You can talk to us about anything.”
“Grades or your friends. Do you have any friends?” Dad asked.
Wes maintained his silence, for better or worse. He had to think they were jerks. I had been on the other side of their criticisms before, but never like this, never to this extent. And they weren’t really giving him much of a chance to respond either, not that I thought he would. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably stay quiet too.
“If you want to be a member of this family,” Dad started.
“You already are,” Jacqueline cut in. Her lips were pursed, making lines appear at the corner. She was gripping her knife that she slowly set on the table. She was pissed. Good. I was glad someone else was siding with Wes, but she needed to say more in order to stop them.
“You need to talk to us more. Share. Make us care about you,” Dad finished.
Wes went rigid. Only a muscle jumped in his throat. Otherwise, he was completely still. I felt so badly for him. Maybe I should say something to get them off his back. It wasn’t fair, their teaming up on him. And Jacqueline was hanging her head. Wes would get no more help from her, that much was clear.
“Actually, April, you haven’t been as social lately yourself.” Dad stared at me, his eyes piercing. I always felt like he could read my thoughts when he looked at me like that, and I forced myself not to fidget. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I said maybe too quickly. “Well, maybe I’m a little stressed about upcoming finals.” It was a lie, but at least there was a little bit of truth to it. Finals were coming up. I forced a smile. “But I just need to study a little more. I’ll do fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“April, you know how important grades are.” Dad’s frown had me uneasy.
“I know. Why do you think I’m stressed?” I hated lying to him. I actually felt pretty good about my finals. My classes this year were on the easier side. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have many with Wes.
“What about you, Wesley? Are you stressed out over finals?” Dad pressed.
Wes was staring at his plate, his head down. Silent as ever. I could tell Dad was getting upset over his lack of responses. The tips of Dad’s ears were turning red.
“We’re going to study together as soon as we’re done eating, aren’t we?” I said, hoping he’d at least nod.
He didn’t.
Not even a minute passed before Wes stood. He left his plate there—it was Peter’s turn to clear the table tonight—and he stomped away from the table, obviously upset. Who could blame him? At least no one made an issue out of him not asking to be excused first.
“Time to go study.” I smiled as much as I could. “If I can be excused.”
Dad frowned but nodded.
I followed Wes up the stairs. Once I was sure we were out of earshot, I said, “I’m sorry for—”
He opened his bedroom door and shut it immediately.
I knocked on his door. “Wes. Come on. Let’s talk. Or not. We can just study.”
I put my ear against his door. He didn’t say anything.
“I know it’s Friday night,” I said, “and studying isn’t that fun, but…”
No answer.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” I shivered at my words. In another context, that could be a promise of good times. Very good times. Very naughty times.
Still no response. He wasn’t going to talk. Not to me. Not to my family. My family. Not his. He didn’t view us as his family.
If I were him, I probably wouldn’t want to either.
***
Two hours later found me lying in bed, reading to distract myself from all things Wes related. The story was just getting to the good part—the first time the hero and heroine fell into bed after declaring their love for each other—when I heard a door opening. Wes’s.
I just knew where he was going, and it made my stomach twist into knots.
I tried to read a few more pages, but I can’t concentrate on the words. I stood, walked over to my window, and watched Wes walk to his bike’s hiding spot.
The next thing I knew, I was rifling through my closet until I found my cutest skirt and a top to go with it. Then I curled my hair and applied makeup. Just a little more eye shadow. Another coat of mascara. Some more lipstick. There.
The girl looking back at me in the mirror? A stranger. A hottie. I didn’t even look like myself, I noted with pride.
I took a deep breath. I went this far, but did I have the guts to go all the way?
Why not?
With shaking hands, I retrieved my cell from my purse and dialed Aunt Caroline. “Hi,” I said when she answered.
“Oh, I know that tone. What do you want, April?” Her voice was wa
rm and mischievous. She was like an older sister to me.
I giggled, but my stomach was still churning. Aunt Caro was definitely a fun aunt, a troublemaker, and I knew I could count on her to keep my little rebellion under wraps. If I had the courage to do it.
Aunt Caro wouldn’t think twice about it.
“Do you think you could give me a ride somewhere?” I asked.
“Of course!”