coke and watched as Wes steered towards a small group of girls. They all wore tiaras, like they were on a bachelorette party. And then Wes talked to the only guy of their group. A skinny guy with blond streaked hair, who gladly accepted the drink. Wes bent down to talk into the skinny guy’s ear and the skinny guy turned his head to respond into Wesley’s ear.
An “Oh” escaped my throat.
I’d been pretty sure that Wes had flirted with me a number of times since I’d gotten here. I couldn’t have been imagining that, right? I reflected on the winking and the grinning. Yeah, he had definitely flirted with me, but had he done that when we were alone? Or was it all for show?
Oh. It made a lot more sense now, that he’d have his brother think we were sleeping together. Trace probably didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to tell him that Wesley was flirting with a boy merely a few feet away from me. Maybe I shouldn’t have watched, but it was nice to see them both at ease, smiling and leaning in again and again to have hushed conversations.
“Darling, how did you do that ?”
I spun around to Sierra. Her jaw was close to the floor as she stared at Wes and his…guy.
“What?” I shuffled in front of her, trying to hide the boys behind my back. If Wesley didn’t want people to know, I could make that happen somehow.
She shifted her weight to look past me. “I’ve been trying for months to make him take action.”
“You have?” I mumbled, drawing my eyebrows together. So maybe only Trace and Alex didn’t know. I’d have to make Wes give me the exact details, so I’d know what to say to whom.
“Yes, yes, but he kept finding random girls to make out with and afterwards complain to me about because it didn’t feel good or something like that.”
Marcus moved up behind her and handed her a bottled drink while snaking his arm around her mid. Sierra needed no more invitation than that, she immediately pulled him into one very, very affectionate PDA. Suddenly everybody I knew was tangled up in intimacies and I stood in the middle of a Latin dance bar by myself. Oh my God, was Sierra seriously touching him down there? Her hand most definitely snuck into his pants’ pocket. Oh God, I shouldn’t even be watching this. I shouldn’t be here in the first place.
I’d come to London to find my mom, not to make friends and help some guy hook up with some other guy. I hadn’t come here to go dancing and watch a waitress give her way-too-old husband an almost hand job in public. I tore myself away from the scene and bolted right out the door and into the next cab. I’d had enough for one night.
Only when I put a safe distance between that and myself, I texted Wesley that I was heading home, and to ease his guilt, I added that I had a terrible headache when, in reality, all I needed was to open the stupid box from under my bed.
I didn’t spare Trace and his new bedfriend with giant boobs a second glance when I ran past them on the stairs; I just headed for my room and threw the door shut behind me.
It was time to face the truth.
I fell to my knees and crawled over to feel for the box without looking at whatever might surprise me from under a strange bed. Once the hard edges pressed into my palms, I yanked it out, up on the bed and fell onto the mattress next to it. I had avoided it long enough, waited for the phone book’s last Theresa Lawrence to call me back long enough. This was it.
I inhaled deeply and flipped off the lid.
My breath caught in my throat.
The burning in my eyes was hard to fight down, but I didn’t want tears blurring my vision. Ignoring the warning stutter of my heart, I carefully lifted the contents out of the box and laid them out on my bed. They were fragile, and I hoped it all still worked. My fingers trembled so hard, I barely managed to push the tiny switch to on . The small screen flickered briefly, but nothing more happened. The batteries were probably too low. There were
An “Oh” escaped my throat.
I’d been pretty sure that Wes had flirted with me a number of times since I’d gotten here. I couldn’t have been imagining that, right? I reflected on the winking and the grinning. Yeah, he had definitely flirted with me, but had he done that when we were alone? Or was it all for show?
Oh. It made a lot more sense now, that he’d have his brother think we were sleeping together. Trace probably didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to tell him that Wesley was flirting with a boy merely a few feet away from me. Maybe I shouldn’t have watched, but it was nice to see them both at ease, smiling and leaning in again and again to have hushed conversations.
“Darling, how did you do that ?”
I spun around to Sierra. Her jaw was close to the floor as she stared at Wes and his…guy.
“What?” I shuffled in front of her, trying to hide the boys behind my back. If Wesley didn’t want people to know, I could make that happen somehow.
She shifted her weight to look past me. “I’ve been trying for months to make him take action.”
“You have?” I mumbled, drawing my eyebrows together. So maybe only Trace and Alex didn’t know. I’d have to make Wes give me the exact details, so I’d know what to say to whom.
“Yes, yes, but he kept finding random girls to make out with and afterwards complain to me about because it didn’t feel good or something like that.”
Marcus moved up behind her and handed her a bottled drink while snaking his arm around her mid. Sierra needed no more invitation than that, she immediately pulled him into one very, very affectionate PDA. Suddenly everybody I knew was tangled up in intimacies and I stood in the middle of a Latin dance bar by myself. Oh my God, was Sierra seriously touching him down there? Her hand most definitely snuck into his pants’ pocket. Oh God, I shouldn’t even be watching this. I shouldn’t be here in the first place.
I’d come to London to find my mom, not to make friends and help some guy hook up with some other guy. I hadn’t come here to go dancing and watch a waitress give her way-too-old husband an almost hand job in public. I tore myself away from the scene and bolted right out the door and into the next cab. I’d had enough for one night.
Only when I put a safe distance between that and myself, I texted Wesley that I was heading home, and to ease his guilt, I added that I had a terrible headache when, in reality, all I needed was to open the stupid box from under my bed.
I didn’t spare Trace and his new bedfriend with giant boobs a second glance when I ran past them on the stairs; I just headed for my room and threw the door shut behind me.
It was time to face the truth.
I fell to my knees and crawled over to feel for the box without looking at whatever might surprise me from under a strange bed. Once the hard edges pressed into my palms, I yanked it out, up on the bed and fell onto the mattress next to it. I had avoided it long enough, waited for the phone book’s last Theresa Lawrence to call me back long enough. This was it.
I inhaled deeply and flipped off the lid.
My breath caught in my throat.
The burning in my eyes was hard to fight down, but I didn’t want tears blurring my vision. Ignoring the warning stutter of my heart, I carefully lifted the contents out of the box and laid them out on my bed. They were fragile, and I hoped it all still worked. My fingers trembled so hard, I barely managed to push the tiny switch to on . The small screen flickered briefly, but nothing more happened. The batteries were probably too low. There were
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