Wesley stayed on my mind for the next couple days, which put me in a really pissy mood—pissier than usual, that
is.
I didn’t want to think about him. I wanted to think about Toby, who was obviously way too good for me. He could tell I
was grumpy, but instead of harassing me about the cause, he just squeezed my hand, kissed me on the cheek,
and bought me candy in hopes of making me smile again. How could I be thinking of another guy—an annoying,
egotistical, womanizing guy—when such a wonderful one stood right in front of me? Maybe someone needed to
slap me or put me through shock treatments like they give crazy people in the movies. That might have brought me
to my senses.
But Wesley seemed to be everywhere. He was always climbing into his car just as I walked out to the student
parking lot or standing two feet ahead of me in the lunch line. Do you know how hard it is to forget someone exists
when they’re constantly in your sight? Pretty damn hard. For a second, I actually wondered if he might be doing this
on purpose, like stalking me or something, but I ditched that idea when I noticed that he didn’t even look at me
anymore. Like he was too mad about the things I’d said to acknowledge me.
It should have been a relief not to have his creepy eyes crawling all over me, but it wasn’t at all. It hurt.
Every time I saw Wesley, I was overcome with a flood of emotions. Anger, sadness, pain, irritation, regret, lust, and,
worst of all, guilt. I knew I shouldn’t have said those things about his attachment issues—even if they were totally
true. And despite my urge to apologize, I kept my mouth shut tight. Honestly, I would rather have dealt with the
knowledge that I was a terrible person than suffer through another uncomfortable conversation with him.
Though I couldn’t avoid the conversation with his sister.
I was in the library one morning, trying to find a book that didn’t contain romantic vampires or kids flying on
dragons, when Amy walked up to me. I swear, she was so freaking quiet that I didn’t have a chance to run. One
minute I was alone, the next she was right beside me. I was ambushed.
“B-Bianca,” she stammered. She was wringing her hands and staring at the ground, as if talking to me was actually
going to kill her.
“Oh. Um, hey, Amy.” I shoved the book I was examining back onto the shelf. “What’s going on?” I kept my face
pointed away from her, pretending I was still scanning the titles in front of me.
I didn’t want to look at her. For one, she looked too much like her brother, and I was trying—and failing miserably
—to forget about him. For another, I couldn’t stand to meet her eyes when she tore into me, which I just knew she
was about to do. Not that I could blame her.
Well, okay, so I couldn’t really imagine timid little Amy tearing into anything, but still.
“I, um I have something to say to you,” she said, trying to sound determined.
Or maybe Amy was upset at me for facilitating Wesley’s “lifestyle.” Maybe she wanted to blame me for the
distance between them.
If that was the case, I wanted to defend him. To tell her that her grandmother was misrepresenting Wesley. That he
wasn’t a bad guy—and definitely not a bad brother. But I knew not to get involved. It wasn’t my place to fix his family
issues. He wasn’t even part of my life anymore.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
Here it comes, I thought. Whatever she says, don’t cry .
“I... I want to” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Huh?” I turned around to face her. Surely I hadn’t heard her right. There was just no way.
“Thank you,” she repeated. “For Wesley. He he’s a lot different, and I know it has to be because of you. I... I appreciate it, so thank you.”
Before I could ask for a detailed explanation—spoken slowly so that I could follow—Amy turned around and hurried
away, her brown curls bouncing behind her.
I was left standing in the middle of the library, totally confused.
And it got worse later that day.
When Wesley rounded the corner after lunch while I was pulling notebooks out of my locker, I wasn’t really
surprised. Like I said, he was everywhere. Vikki was with him, clinging to his arm and flipping her hair like the girl
in a shampoo commercial. She was laughing, but I could have bet money that whatever Wesley had said wasn’t all
that funny. She just wanted to inflate his ego as if it needed to get any bigger.
“Over here,” she giggled, pulling him into the alcove ten feet away from me. “I wanna talk to you.”
Talk? I thought. Yeah, not likely.
I swear, I tried not to listen. I knew hearing them flirt would only get me worked up, but Vikki’s squeaky voice
carries, and they were standing really close to me, and yeah, a masochistic little part of me couldn’t stop myself. I
started arranging the textbooks in the bottom of my locker, trying to make enough noise that I wouldn’t be able to
hear their conversation.
“What are you doing for prom?” Vikki asked.
“I don’t have any plans,” Wesley answered.
I shuffled my papers loudly, hoping that, even if I couldn’t drown out their words, they would notice me and take the
make-out session elsewhere. I mean, they weren’t groping each other yet, but I knew both of them well enough to
be sure it wouldn’t take long.
“Well,” Vikki said, either not hearing me or just not caring. “I thought maybe we could go together.” I didn’t have to
look to know she was scraping her long, polished fingernails lightly down Wesley’s arm. Vikki used the same
moves on every guy. “I thought maybe after the dance we could have a little time alone at your place, maybe?”
I had the serious desire to puke. I grabbed my books, slammed my locker shut, and prepared to bolt toward my
next class before I had to hear Wesley say yes. Let them have each other! I thought bitterly. STDs all around! To
hell with it. But he answered before I could even take a step.
“I don’t think so, Vikki.”
I froze.
What? What? Rewind for a second, please. Did Wesley really turn down a girl? A girl who was perfectly willing to
fuck his brains out? I had to be dreaming.
Vikki seemed to be experiencing a similar reaction. “What? What do you mean?”
“I’m just not interested,” Wesley said. “But I’m sure you have plenty of other boys who would love to join you. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Vikki stumbled out of the alcove with a look of hurt surprise. “It’s, um, okay. Not a problem. Just thought I’d
offer.” She hesitated for a second. “I guess I’ll see you later? Gotta go to class. Bye.” And she took off down the
hall, obviously confused.
She wasn’t the only one.
Was this the difference Amy had been talking about? Was Wesley suddenly inclined to be less man-whorish? If so,
how was that because of me?
I stared as Wesley walked out of the alcove. Then, for the first time in days, he looked at me. His eyes locked with
mine. A weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but the expression in his eyes was unreadable. I could tell
he wasn’t angry, though. That fact sent instant relief through my tense muscles.
Knowing he wasn’t pissed at me made the guilt ebb a little but not entirely. I’d still said some cold things to him,
and in that second, as I held his gaze, I thought of speaking, of apologizing. I thought about it, but I didn’t say a
word.
Wesley took a step toward me, and I suddenly remembered who I was—who he was. While Wesley’s rejecting
Vikki was undeniably surprising, it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t have a chance with him; he would never want
a real relationship especially not with me. And then there was the fact that I was dating Toby. Plus, I knew that
communicating with Wesley would just make my steadily improving life complicated again. I wouldn’t punish myself
that way.
I spun around and started running down the hallway, pretending I didn’t hear him call after me.
I slowed when I turned down another hallway and saw Toby (my boyfriend? I wasn’t sure how this worked) waiting
for me by the old, out-of-order snack machines. He smiled and adjusted his glasses, and I could tell he was
genuinely pleased to see me. Was I equally happy to see him? I was. Of course I was, but the smile on my face felt
artificial.
Toby’s arm wrapped around my shoulders when I got close enough. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I sighed.
He leaned down and kissed me on the lips before asking, “Is it okay if I walk you to class?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the emptying hallway. “Sure,” I murmured, facing forward again. I leaned my head on
his shoulder. “That sounds perfect.”
A few days later, I found Jessica waiting for me outside my third-block calculus class. “Can we talk on the way to
English?” she asked without the usual bob in her step or swing to her hair. I could tell something was up by the way
she bit her lower lip.
“Um, sure,” I said, shifting my books under my right arm. Seeing my perpetually perky friend looking so solemn
made me uneasy. “Is something wrong?”
“Kinda, not really.”
We shoved our way through the packed halls together, trying not to step on too many people’s toes. I waited for
Jessica to speak, my curiosity and anxiety rising. I really wanted to say, “Hurry up! Out with it!” Luckily, though, she
started talking before my legendary low patience ran out.
“It’s about you and Toby. I just don’t think you’re right together.” She said it so fast that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her
at first. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she moaned. “It’s not any of my business, but I don’t see a spark there, you know? And
Casey totally disagrees with me. She says you’re better with Toby, and she might be right, but I don’t know. You
don’t seem like yourself when you’re with him. Please don’t be mad.”
I shook my head, trying to fight my sudden urge to laugh. That was it? That was what she was worried about? I’d
seriously thought someone was dying or, at the least, her Mom had forbidden her going to prom. Instead, it turned
out that she was worried about me. “Jessica, I’m not mad at you at all.”
“Oh, good,” she breathed. “I was really scared you would get p.o.’ed at me.”
Ouch. Was I that bitchy? So horrible that one of my best friends was afraid to tell me her opinion because I might
go into a rage or something? God, that made me feel like shit.
“It’s not that I don’t like Toby,” Jessica continued. “I do. He’s sweet, and he’s nice to you, and I know you need that
after after my brother.”
My heart may have actually stopped beating for a second there. I stopped right where I was and, after a stunned
pause, whirled around to stare at Jessica. “How do you?” I managed to whisper.
“Jake told me,” she said. “I was telling him about my friends when your name came up, and he told me about your
thing a few years ago. He feels horrible about it now, and he wanted me to apologize for him, but I didn’t want to
bring it up. I’m sorry, Bianca. It must be really hard for you to be my friend after what Jake did.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“I just can’t believe you didn’t say anything. It must have been on your mind when Jake came to visit. Why didn’t you
tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to think less of your brother,” I said. “I know you think a lot of him, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”
Jessica didn’t say anything. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me as close to her
as humanly possible. It was a little awkward at first, especially considering the fact that Jessica’s giant boobs were
practically smothering me, but I gradually fell into her embrace. My arms slid around her waist, returning the hug.
Knowing I had someone who would hold me like this, with nothing to gain, made me feel like one of the luckiest
people in the world.
“I love you, Bianca.”
“Um, what was that?”
Jessica released me and took a step back. “I love you,” she said. “You and Casey both. You’re the best friends I’ve
ever had, and I don’t know where I’d be if you two hadn’t come along my sophomore year. I’d probably still be
letting those preppy girls walk all over me.” She looked down at her feet. “You two always try to protect me, like not
telling me about what an a-hole my brother was. And I want to do the same thing for you.”
“Jessica, that’s sweet.”
“That’s why I’m telling you this,” she went on. “I know Toby is nice and he likes you, but I don’t see a connection. I
mean, I’m glad you’re spending time with me and Casey again, and I think it’s cool that he hangs out with us
sometimes, but what I care about is that you’re happy. You might look happy, but I don’t think you are.” She took a
deep breath and tugged at the hem of her floral-print skirt. “I don’t want to bring this up, but I’ve heard some
rumors about Wesley lately.”
I bit my lip. “Oh.”
“He hasn’t been as flirty lately,” she said. “I haven’t seen him with any girls, and I thought”—she looked at me with
wide chocolate eyes—“I thought maybe you’d want to know. I mean, I know you have feelings for him, and—”
I shook my head. “No,” I said, “it’s not that simple.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I just thought I’d throw it out there. Sorry.”
I sighed and smiled, reaching out to take her hand and pulling her toward the English classroom. “It’s okay. I
appreciate you being concerned—I really, really do. And you might be right about me and Toby, I mean. But this
is just high school. We’re only dating. It’s not like I’m looking for a husband or whatever. I don’t think you need to
worry about me yet. I’m fine.”
“Casey says you’re usually lying when you say that,” Jessica informed me.
“She does, huh?”
I released Jessica’s hand as we walked into English class, determined to avoid answering her accusation. That
proved to be pretty easy, really. I was able to feign distraction—well, it wasn’t entirely fake—when I noticed the
folded piece of paper lying on my desk. I sat down and picked it up, assuming it was from Casey. Who else would
be writing me a note?
But Casey always drew a smiley face over the i in my name, and the handwriting on the outside of this paper was small, cursive, and faceless.
Confused, I unfolded the paper and read the single sentence that was scrawled across the top.
Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls, but I’m chasing you.
No comments:
Post a Comment