I knew something was wrong the instant I opened my eyes the next morning.
The sky looked dull and cold outside Wesley’s window, but I felt warm. So warm. Wesley’s arm was draped over
me, holding me against his chest, and his soft, rhythmic breathing heated the back of my neck. It was so peaceful.
So perfect. I felt safe and content.
And that was the problem.
I caught sight of a pink sweater lying forgotten in the corner of the room. It had been there for weeks. Property of
some nameless girl. One of many Wesley had brought up to his bedroom. Seeing it, I suddenly remembered
exactly whose bed I was in. Who was holding me.
I shouldn’t have felt safe or content. Not here. Not with Wesley. It was wrong. I should have been disgusted. I should
have been repulsed. I should have wanted nothing more than to push him away from me. What the hell was going
on? What was wrong with me?
And just as I asked myself the questions, the answers hit me like a tidal wave. An icy tidal wave that left me wideeyed
and shocked.
I was jealous of the other girls he talked to.
I was willing to do anything to make him smile.
I felt safe and content in his arms.
Oh my God, I thought, half panicked. I’m in love with him.
I had to shake myself then. No, no, no. Not love. Love was a big word. Too big. Love took years upon years to
develop right? I was not in love with Wesley Rush.
But I had feelings for him. Feelings other than hatred and disgust. It was more than a crush. More than anything I’d
felt for Toby Tucker over the past three years. Maybe even more than I’d felt for Jake Gaither all those years ago. It
was real. It was powerful.
And it was terrifying.
I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t let myself fall into this trap. No matter how I felt about Wesley, he
would never feel the same.
Because he was Wesley Rush.
And I was the Duff.
There was no way in hell I was going to torture myself that way. I’d learned my lesson with Jake. Getting too close
just led to getting hurt, and Wesley had plenty to hurt me with. Last night he’d seen me at my weakest. I’d let him in.
I’d opened up. And if I didn’t leave now, I’d pay the price.
No matter where you go or what you do to distract yourself, reality catches up with you eventually. Mom had said
that about herself and Dad.
A bitter smile spread across my face as I reluctantly crawled out of Wesley’s arms. Mom had been right. Wesley
was my distraction. He was supposed to be my escape from emotions. From all the drama. And here I was feeling nothing but emotions.
I crept around the room, trying to get dressed without making any noise. After yanking on my sweater and jeans, I
grabbed my cell phone and slipped out onto the balcony.
Before I could talk myself out of it, or convince myself that she wouldn’t answer, I dialed Casey’s cell phone number.
I knew she’d still be pissed at me, but I couldn’t think of any other options. No matter how mad she was, I knew
Casey would help me. She’d help anyone. It was just part of her nature.
“H’lo?” she grunted sleepily after two rings.
Damn, a little voice murmured in the back of my head. After all this time, I couldn’t believe this was how Casey
would find out my secret. But I knew it was for the best. I knew if I didn’t leave then, I never would. I knew, but I didn’t
want to go. I didn’t want to feel what I felt. And I really didn’t want Casey—or anybody, for that matter—to know
about it.
“Hello? Bianca?”
Too bad I never got what I wanted.
“Hey, Casey, I’m sorry to wake you up, but can you do me a big favor? Please.”
“B, are you okay?” she demanded, her drowsiness vanishing. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”
“Can you get your mom’s keys and come pick me up? I really need a ride home.”
“Home?” She sounded confused. Not a good thing when combined with fear. God, I was going to give the poor girl
ulcers one day. “You mean you aren’t at home? You didn’t stay at your place last night?”
“Chill out, Casey. I’m fine,” I said.
“Don’t fucking tell me to chill out, Bianca,” she snapped. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks and totally ignoring
me every time I tried to talk to you. Now you’re calling me early in the morning and telling me to pick you up, but I
should chill out? God, where the hell are you?”
This was the part I’d been dreading, so I took a deep breath before answering her question. “I’m at Wesley’s.
You know the giant house on—”
“Yeah,” Casey said. “Wesley Rush’s place? I know where it is.” She was curious, but she tried to hide it behind her
anger. Her acting skills were no better than mine. “Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” And she hung up.
I shut the phone and shoved it into my back pocket.
Ten minutes. Just ten short minutes.
I sighed and leaned against the railing of the balcony. From here, boring-ass Hamilton looked like a creepy ghost
town. The streets were empty this early in the morning (they were never really busy, to be honest), and all the little
gray-roofed shops were closed. The image wasn’t helped by the dull, sunless sky that left everything under a layer
of gloom.
Sunless gloom. Go figure, right?
“You may not be aware of this, but humans tend to sleep in on Saturdays.”
I turned around and found Wesley standing at the balcony entrance, rubbing his eyes sleepily with a little smile on
his face. Despite the chilly wind, he was wearing nothing but his black boxers. Damn, he had an amazing body but I couldn’t think about that. I had to end this.
“We need to talk.” I tried to find something to look at besides his hot, half-naked body. My feet seemed like the
best option.
“Hmm,” Wesley mused, running a hand through his messy curls. “You know, my father says those are the four most
frightening words a woman can say. He claims that nothing good ever begins with ‘We need to talk.’ You’re
worrying me a little here, Duffy.”
“We should go inside.”
“That’s not promising.”
I followed him into his bedroom, wringing my hands uncontrollably. (Sweaty palms are so attractive.) He flopped
onto his bed and waited for me to do the same, but I remained standing. I couldn’t get too comfortable. Casey
would be there to pick me up in about eight and a half minutes—I was counting—so I had to keep this short and
sweet.
Or just short. Nothing about this felt sweet to me.
Anxiously, I reached up and scratched the back of my neck. “Listen,” I said. “You’re a great guy, and I appreciate
everything you’ve done for me.”
Why did this sound so much like a breakup? Didn’t you actually have to be dating someone to dump them?
“Really?” Wesley asked. “Since when? You’ve never referred to me as anything better than a scumbag. I knew I’d
grow on you eventually but something tells me I should be suspicious.”
“But,” I went on, ignoring him as best I could. “I can’t do this anymore. I think we should stop, um, sleeping together.”
Yep. Definitely seemed breakup-ish to me. All I needed to do was throw in an “It’s not you; it’s me,” and it would be
perfect.
“Why?” He didn’t sound hurt. Just surprised.
It hurt me that he didn’t sound hurt.
“Because this isn’t working for me anymore,” I said, sticking with the traditional lines I’d heard in movies. They
were classics for a reason, after all. “I just don’t think this”—I gestured between us—“is in my, uh either of our best interests.”
Wesley narrowed his eyes at me. “Bianca, does this have something to do with what happened last night?” he
asked seriously. “If so, I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about—”
“That’s not it.”
“What, then? You’re not making sense.”
I stared at my shoes. The rubber edges were starting to peel, but the bright red fabric of the Converse hadn’t faded
at all. Bright red. “I’m like Hester,” I whispered, more to myself than to Wesley.
“What?”
I looked up at him, surprised he’d heard me. “I’m like” I shook my head. “Nothing. We’re done. I’m done.”
“Bianca—”
Two quick honks from the driveway saved me.
“I—I have to go.”
I was so focused on getting the hell out of that house that I didn’t hear the words Wesley yelled after me. His voice simply faded into the distance, where I hoped to leave him forever.
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