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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 sca
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 fu
“Over here,” she giggled, pulling him into the alcove ten feet away from me. “I wa
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 ru
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.”