This is not the Wesley Reynolds I used to be.
What’s happened to me?
Chelsea Thompson has ruined me.
Chapter 42 – Chelsea
My growling stomach forces me to skip class— which I almost never do— and head to grab some food instead.
At least extreme hunger is the excuse I tell myself as I walk up the sidewalk leading to the cafeteria.
I haven’t eaten much ever since my last encounter with Wesley, and I’m finally hungry for once.
But maybe I happen to be hungry right now because I know that it’s Wesley’s lunch break. Maybe part of me wonders if he and I are really over.
Or maybe, I realize with horror, as I stop in my tracks, I’m just a glutton for punishment.
Because there, yards away, with his back to me, is Wesley, and he’s with yet another woman.
I can only see the back of her, and her profile as she leans over to whisper in his ear, but she is super beautiful. Even more so than the last one. And she’s obviously really into him, with her hand on his thigh and her head resting on his shoulder.
As she makes a move— in public, in broad daylight— for his package, I turn around and walk in the direction I was just coming from, as fast as I can.
I thought that a blow job under an abandoned amusement park ride was risqué, but this woman is obviously way more forward than I am.
I guess I was just one girl in a long string of girls who like to do forbidden things with the star football player.
I can’t take one more time of running into Wesley with random women. He might claim the last one wasn’t a date, but he can’t get out of this one. She was all over him. And she was gorgeous.
And why would he need to get out of it? I remind myself, hearing his voice in my head, from the last time we had talked.
If you could call fighting “talking.”
You two are over. You told him to leave you alone.
But we had never really started to begin with. Not officially.
It’s time I realize that not only were we over, we never had a real beginning. That’s probably my fault as much as his, but there’s no going back and fixing it.
Wesley was right— I have no right to try to stake a claim to him. We were just sneaking around having fun behind my dad’s back. Nothing more.
I’m so upset that I had gone and let myself have hope yet again. I can’t talk to Taylor because she’s in class. And she’s probably sick of hearing about my trials and tribulations with Wesley Reynolds, anyway.
I stop when I get to the duck pond. I’ve come here partly because I have nowhere else to go— my appetite is gone again and I’m not about to walk past Wesley and his Flavor of the Week to enter the cafeteria— and partly because it feels peaceful. Water always calms me down.
I sit under a tree, watching the ducks and the other students who are feeding them and tell myself to let it go. After my mom died Dad made me go to a shrink, who wasn’t very helpful.
But the one helpful thing she told me was that sadness and worries and all other negative feelings are just thoughts like any other thought. She told me that whenever I was stuck in grief, I should imagine myself sitting by a river and putting each thought on a leaf and watching it float by.
I try to do that now, with the bread crumbs.
My anger is a bread crumb being eaten by this duck. That duck is chewing on my sadness, while her baby duck is eating my regret.
Soon, instead of feeling relieved that I was able to let go of my negative emotions, I just feel bad that the poor ducks have them in their stomachs. They’ll probably get indigestion.
Chapter 43 – Chelsea
My phone rings, waking me up. I look around, startled.
I’m still at the duck pond. I must have fallen asleep.
I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights lately— even my mom’s teddy bear hasn’t helped resolve that issue— and I guess I was so exhausted that I just drifted off. I must have been here a long time.
That suspicion is confirmed when I see that it’s Taylor calling me. She went to two classes in a row, all while I was accidentally spying on Wesley and then sitting under a tree like Buddha. Unlike him, I obviously suck at meditating, so much so that I fell asleep.
“Hello?” I ask, trying to mask my “just woke up” voice.
“Chelsea, where are you?” Taylor screeches through the phone. “Practice started half an hour ago and everyone is waiting on you to teach us the new routine that you came up with for the next stage of the conference championships. And I’ve been texting you ever since I got out of my last class, because I really need to tell you something.”
“I… I was sleeping,” I confess.
“Sleeping?”
She acts like I said I was robbing a 7-Eleven.
“Yes. Sometimes I need to do that.”
“Are you okay? You sound upset.”
“I am upset, Taylor.”
“Why?”
But I’m sick of talking to her about Wesley. Just as much as I’m sure she’s sick of hearing about him.
“I guess upset isn’t the right word,” I tell her, more to get out of having to tell her about Wesley than because I really believe it. “I’m just exhausted.”
It’s true. I’m exhausted. And upset.
“Well, what happened?” she prods.
“Can’t we talk about it later?”
“Chelsea Madison Thompson,” she chides, sounding like a mother.
Not my mother— she was never the stereotypical nagging type. She was always understanding and supportive. But just like a mother.
“Tell me what happened,” Taylor says again.
“Look, I know I’ve been having a lot of drama lately but I swear this wasn’t my fault,” I tell her. “I wasn’t trying to find an excuse to see him...”
At least not consciously, I add to myself.
“To see Wesley?” Taylor’s tone changes, as if now it’s her turn to hide something.
“Right. I just ran into him. Like last time at Moon Howl Grill. And he was with yet another girl, just like he was then.”
I pause because I’m embarrassed to even be telling this story. But then I plunge ahead.
“Except this one looked even happier to be in his presence. I swear it’s like someone out there wants to rub it in my face that he sees all these other girls now. And it upset me. And I got tired. So I walked to the duck pond kind of accidentally. And then I went to sleep. Fell asleep, actually. Under a tree. Accidentally. That’s all.”
I realize I’m explaining myself to her as if I’m in trouble. When she’s the one seeming shady all of a sudden.
“Do you know something I don’t?” I suddenly ask her.
“No. I mean. Maybe. Chelsea, just hurry to practice so we can concentrate on the cheerleading routine, and then we can talk about all of this afterwards.”
“What is it?” I demand, ignoring her suggestion. Or maybe it was a command. “What do you know?”
She sighs, audibly.
“Look, Chelsea, please don’t be mad at me.”
“For what?”
“I… um.”
She pauses. I wait.
“That girl you saw Wesley with was his math tutor.”
“His math tutor?”
What the fuck.
She didn’t look like any math tutor I’d ever seen.
“I… hired her,” Taylor says.
“What?”
Nothing is making any sense. Maybe I’m still in my meditative pose under the tree, dreaming all of this up while I sleep.
“I just thought that I should step in and put this whole matter to rest once and for all. I was trying to be helpful, but I realize now that it might not have been the best idea to…”
“To interfere?” I ask, and the question comes out more explosively than I’d meant it to.
“I mean, I just wanted to…”
“Help,” I fill in. “You said that already. And you’re
right. It wasn’t your place to step in, to meddle in my business without even telling me. Somehow your help hasn’t ended up being very helpful. It’s just done more harm than good actually.”
My tone is full of anger but my eyes are welling up with tears. The memory of my dad asking us if we knew any math tutors— and Taylor answering that she might— floods through my brain so strongly that it is not a thought I can put on a leaf and let float by.
I’d thought that Taylor had said she’d look for math tutors just as a way of trying to steer my dad off the trail of Wesley and me. But she’d obviously gotten the idea then and there to hire some girl to tutor Wesley.
She’d wanted me to find out— to see him with her— and get him out of my head for good. But she hadn’t even consulted me.
“I know Chelsea. But please just hear me out,” she pleads.
“I don’t want to hear you out,” I tell her. “I need a break.”
I hear Wesley’s voice in my head telling me that Taylor is like a mother figure to me. He was right, and not in a good way. I need to break away from her and do my own thing for a while. Make my own decisions. She can’t replace my mother, and my mother never would have done anything like this.
“A break from what?” Taylor asks. “From us?”
The way she says “us” grates on my already strained emotions. Maybe Taylor thinks she had good intentions. To rip off the Band-Aid and help me move on more quickly. But maybe, whether she knows it or not, she’s happy that I have to move on from Wesley. She was never a fan of me finally having a boyfriend.
Not that he was my boyfriend.
But she was probably jealous that he took time away from her. So she’s happy it didn’t work out and wants to hurry me back along to just concentrating on “us,” on her and me and our friendship, without any guy to steal my heart and get in the way.
He didn’t steal my heart.
But I don’t even want to explain it to her. I don’t want to fight. I just want some alone time.
“A break from everything,” I finally answer her. “I’m tired.”
“You’re not going to come to practice?” she asks. “Everyone’s waiting on you…”
“Well, they’ll just have to make do without me. Practice the spirit cheers for the upcoming game. Or tell everyone to take a rest. It’s okay to do once in awhile, even intentionally.”
“Chelsea, I’m worried about you…”
“Well don’t be. I’m just fine.”
Even though I’ve realized some hard truths about my best friend. And even though I’ve lost the guy I’m really into.
I’m not really into him.
I’m fine. I just need more sleep. And then I can figure out how to make decisions on my own, without Taylor. Starting with how to move on from Wesley for good.
Chapter 44 – Wesley
“Blah blah blah blah, Chelsea’s birthday,” announces Coach Thompson, and I look up and say, “Huh?”
I’ve barely been able to pay attention to anything lately. All I think about is how to get Chelsea back.
We’re in the locker room for a wrap-up talk after football practice and the coach’s words are mostly a blur to me, like everything else these days. But I certainly heard her name, which snapped me out of my mental slumber.
“Yes, Mr. Reynolds,” Coach Thompson says, as if calling on a kindergartner. “Do you have a question?”
“I just, um, missed what you said,” I tell him. “Sorry. Can you repeat?”
“I said that next weekend is my daughter’s birthday and I’m taking her on a father- daughter fishing trip, so don’t bug me. I hope all of you heard it this time, because I mean it,” he says, looking around at everyone. “Don’t bother me.”
I hadn’t known that Chelsea’s birthday was coming up.
This is the perfect time to do what I’ve been thinking of doing for a long time now: something drastic to win her heart once again. I know I had it before and now I just have to get it back.
Even if it makes me look like a fool, I need to declare my love for her. I know it could cost me my football career, but I don’t even care anymore. All I care about is Chelsea.
As we walk out of the locker room, I tell Christian, “Wish me luck, Dude. I’m about to make the pass of my life.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Chelsea. I’m going after her.”
“You’re definitely crazy,” he says. “Haven’t you learned anything?”
“I’m not good at learning lessons,” I tell him. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
He shrugs, shakes his head, and then says, “Whatever, Man. Good luck. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Unfortunately I’ve never been one to heed warnings, either,” I tell him.
He saunters off and once again I’m left wondering what’s up his ass. I just don’t get the guy. I guess Coach is right that he’s jealous. If I get Chelsea back, I’ll just rub it in to fuck with him since he’s obviously been fucking with me.
As I head to my car, I send a text message to Taylor, hoping she’s as desperate to get back into Chelsea’s good graces as I am. Desperate enough to work with me instead of against me.
I think you and I could help each other out.
Chapter 45 – Chelsea
When I get out of class the next day, I’m feeling much better. My dad had left me a nice card and roses that morning, instructing me to meet him at the lake house later tonight because we need father- daughter bonding time over my birthday weekend.
At least with everything else going on in my life, I always have my dad.
But as I round the corner to head to my car, I see Christian Lewis waiting for me.
“Chelsea,” he says, with a strange grin on his face.
“Christian. How you doing?”
I’m surprised that he wants to talk to me, but I figure why not hear what he has to say. I know it won’t be good but I’m ready to get Wesley out of my system forever.
Leave it to Christian to come to deliver the final blow to any relationship I thought Wesley and I might have.
“I know you like to leave notes in your lover boy’s locker,” he says, grinning that awful grin still.
“So?” I shrug.
Who cares? Is this the best he’s got?
“But do you know what else is in his locker?”
Now I glare at him.
“Follow me and I’ll show you.”
“Fine,” I spit back.
Let’s get this over with.
As soon as we get to the locker room, Christian triumphantly marches to Wesley’s locker. He slips a key in the lock and then opens up the locker door with gusto, as if he’s a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
There are clear bags full of drugs. I’m no expert, but it looks like some weed and some pills and some coke or maybe heroin— little baggies full of white powder.
“I’m sure that Daddy Dearest will be interested in knowing what Wesley has been doing. Both with his daughter and with these drugs.”
My mouth is still agape, and I’m still horrified. But something doesn’t seem right.
I think about Wesley’s strong hands on my shoulders, giving me a back massage. And then the openness and vulnerability that he shared with me. Suddenly, even though things don’t make total sense, all I want is to believe in him. To be with him.
“Why do you care so much about what Wesley’s doing?” I ask Christian.
His mouth turns into an ugly sneer as he squints at me before he answers.
“I just like to keep my teammates safe. I care about what happens at this school.”
“That’s funny,” I tell him. “Because I’ve never known you to care about anyone but yourself.”
I walk out of the locker room, leaving a flabbergasted Christian before he can stomp out after me.
I decide to contact Wesley and see if he wants to try to really give this this— us— a go. But that’ll have to wait
until next week. Because there’s another man who’s already claimed my attention this weekend. And I have a lot of explaining to do to him.
I head to my car, which is mostly packed for the weekend trip. I have to go home and pack a bit more before heading out, but I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. It will be refreshing to spend time at the lake house after how these past few weeks have gone.
I send my dad a text message before starting my car.
Dad- I’m leaving early for the cabin. See you when you get there, and let’s talk. If you hear anything about Wesley allegedly selling drugs, please hold off judgment until then. Love you. Chelsea.
Hopefully if I tell him that I dated Wesley and he’s a nice guy and that I think Christian is setting him up, he’ll believe me. I know I risk my dad’s wrath but at this point I’m sick of hiding the truth and I don’t want Wesley to get in trouble.
Chapter 46 – Chelsea
As usual, it takes me longer to finish packing than I’d expected. I’m not really getting much more of an early start than when my dad will probably leave, after his practice gets out. But at least I’m finally on my way.
On my drive up to the cabin, I have a gut feeling that this weekend is it. It’s when my dad is going to tell me he’s going to propose to Taylor’s mom. But I’m honestly going to try my best to be happy for him. At least someone I know is happy. And Wesley was right— it’s always good when one’s parents are happy, as opposed to the alternative.
When I get to the cabin, I park in front and get out of my car. I swear I hear whistling coming from the back of the cabin. That’s odd, because the place is deserted. No one has been here since Taylor and Wesley and I were, after the party.
Then as I get closer to the sound, I realize it’s the same tune that Dad always whistles. And it dawns on me. Dad probably left for the cabin once he received my text.
It’s rare of him to skip practice, but the assistant coaches can handle it and he was probably ready to get an early start on the weekend once he found out that I wanted to. And it doesn’t take him nearly as long as it takes me to pack and get on the road.
Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Page 29