Страница 14 из 50
It was a little after seven that night when Wesley and I finally finished the essay for English. Or at least, we finished the rough copy. I made him promise that he’d e-mail me the draft later so that I could edit it.
“You don’t trust me to get it done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me as I put my shoes on in the foyer.
“I don’t trust you with anything,” I said.
“Except getting you off.” He was wearing that grin I hated. “So, was this a one-time thing, or will I be seeing you again?”
I started to snort, to tell him he was dreaming if he honestly thought I’d be back, but then I remembered that I was about to go back home. The manila envelope would probably still be lying on my kitchen table.
“Bianca?” Wesley asked. A shiver ran across my skin when he touched my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
I jerked out of his reach and moved toward the door. I’d gotten halfway out before I turned to him and said, with a moment of hesitation, “We’ll see.” Then I ran down the front steps.
“Bianca, wait.”
I clutched my jacket closer to me, trying to fight the cold wind, and yanked open the door of my Saturn. He was behind me in seconds, but, thankfully, he didn’t touch me this time. “What?” I demanded as I slid into the front seat. “I need to get home.”
Home, the last place I wanted to go.
The winter sky had already turned black, but I could still see Wesley’s gray eyes in the darkness. They were exactly the color of the sky before a thunderstorm. He crouched down by my door to get to my eye level, and the way he was looking at me made me really uncomfortable. “You didn’t answer the other question.”
“What other question?”
“Are you all right?”
I scowled at him for a long moment, assuming he was just trying to be a pain in my ass. But something about his lighted eyes made me hesitate. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not,” I whispered. I started my car, and he darted out of the way when I moved to slam the door shut. “Bye, Wesley.”
And I drove away.
When I got home, Dad was still in his bedroom. I finished cleaning up the living room, avoiding the kitchen altogether, and ran upstairs to take a shower. The hot water didn’t wash away the dirty feeling Wesley had left on my skin, but it did relax some muscles that were forming tense knots in my back and shoulders. I just hoped the dirt would wash away in time.
I’d barely wrapped a towel around me when my cell phone started ringing in my bedroom, and I sprinted across the hall to answer it in time.
“Hey, B,” Casey said into my ear. “So are you and Wesley done?”
“What?”
“You two were working on the English project today, weren’t you?” she asked. “I thought he was meeting you at your place.”
“Oh,… right. Well, I wound up going over to his house instead.” I was trying hard not to sound guilty.
“OMG, you mean the mansion?” Casey asked. “Lucky! Did you walk out onto one of the balconies? Vikki said that’s half the reason she wants to hook up with him again. Last time, it was just in the backseat of his Porsche, but she really wants to see the inside of that house.”
“Is there a point to this conversation, Casey?”
“Oh, yeah,” she laughed. “Sorry. It’s no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
What was with everyone asking me that tonight?
“I know you hate him,” she continued. “I wanted to make sure you were fine… and that he was okay, too. You didn’t, like, stab the boy, did you? I mean, I totally disapprove of murdering hotties, but if you need help burying the body, you know I’ll bring the shovel.”
“Thanks, Casey,” I said. “But he’s alive. Today wasn’t as bad as I expected. Actually,…” I almost told her everything. How Mom and Dad were getting a divorce and how, in a moment of desperation, I’d kissed Wesley Rush, again. How that kiss had turned into something much, much more. How my body felt dirty all over, yet at the same time amazingly free. The words lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make them come out.
Not yet, at least.
“Actually what, B?” she asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Um,… nothing. He actually had some good ideas for the paper. That’s it. I guess he’s, like, a Hawthorne freak or something.”
“Well, that’s good. I know you find smart boys sexy. Are you go
I froze, not knowing how to respond to this, but Casey was laughing already.
“I’m teasing, but I’m glad things turned out okay. I was a little worried about you today. I just had this feeling that something bad was going to happen. I guess I was just being paranoid.”
“Probably.”
“I’ve got to go. Jessica wants me to call her with all the details of my meeting with Harrison. She just doesn’t get it, does she? Anyway, I’ll see you at school on Monday.”
“Okay. Bye, Casey.”
“See you later, B.”
I flipped the cell phone shut and placed it on my nightstand, feeling like a total liar. Technically, I hadn’t lied; I’d only withheld, but still… withholding from Casey was, like, a mortal sin. Especially when she made such a point of opening herself to my problems.
But I’d tell her eventually. Well, about my parents, at least. I just needed to deal with it myself before I sprang it on her and Jessica. The Wesley thing, though… God, I hoped they’d never find out.
I knelt at the foot of my bed and started folding the clean clothes, like I did every night. Weirdly, I wasn’t as stressed as I’d expected myself to be. I hated to admit it, but I definitely had Wesley to thank for that.
9
Dad didn’t leave his bedroom for the rest of the weekend. I knocked a couple of times Sunday afternoon and offered to make him something to eat, but he just murmured a refusal, never opening the door between us. His isolation terrified me. He must have been depressed about Mom, and ashamed he’d fallen off the wagon to top it off, but I knew this wasn’t healthy. I decided that if he hadn’t emerged by Monday afternoon, I would bust into the room and… well, I didn’t know what I’d do next. In the meantime, I just tried not to think of my father or the divorce papers on the kitchen table.
Surprisingly, that was pretty easy.
Most of my thoughts swarmed around Wesley. Ew, right? But I really didn’t know how to handle school on Monday. What did one do after having a one-night stand (or, in my case, one-afternoon stand) with the school’s biggest man-whore? Was I supposed to act nonchalant? Treat him with my normal undisguised hatred? Or, because I’d honestly enjoyed myself, should I act, like, grateful? Tone down the contempt and be friendly? Did I owe him something? Surely not. He’d gotten just as much out of the experience as I had, minus the self-loathing.
By the time I arrived at school Monday morning, I’d pretty much settled on avoiding him entirely.
“Are you okay, Bianca?” Jessica asked as we walked out of Spanish at the end of first block. “You’re acting… um, weird.”
I’ll admit, my spy skills weren’t exactly smooth, but I knew that Wesley walked past the classroom on his way to second block, and I didn’t want to risk an awkward post-sex meeting in the hallway. I peered anxiously around the edge of the door, sca
“It’s nothing,” I lied, stepping out into the hall. I looked both ways, like a small child crossing a busy highway, and I was relieved that I didn’t see him anywhere. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, okay,” she said without suspicion. “I must be imagining it, then.”