“Maybe.”
Wesley’s fingers continued to rub soothingly against my temple. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Not at all.” Actually, the way he was massaging my skull felt pretty good. I sighed and leaned into his hand. “The things he said hurt way more,” I murmured.
I bit my lower lip. “You know,” I said to Wesley, “I’ve never been called a whore in my life, and today two different people have implied that I am. What’s funny is, I’m pretty sure they’re right.”
“That’s not funny,” Wesley muttered. “You’re not a whore, Bianca.”
“Then, what am I?” I demanded, feeling suddenly angry. I pushed his hand away from my head and stood up. “What am I? I’m screwing a guy who isn’t my boyfriend and lying about it to my friends… if they’re even my friends anymore. I don’t even think about it now, whether this is right or wrong! I’m a whore. Your grandma and my dad both think so, and they’re right.”
Wesley stood up, his face hard and serious. He grabbed me by the shoulders and held me firmly, forcing me to look up at him. “Listen to me,” he said. “You are not a whore. Are you listening, Bianca? What you are is an intelligent, sassy, sarcastic, cynical, neurotic, loyal, compassionate girl. That’s what you are, okay? You’re not a slut or a whore or anything remotely similar. Just because you have some secrets and some screwups… You’re just confused… like the rest of us.”
I stared at him, stunned. Was he right? Was the rest of the world just as lost as I was? Did everyone have their secrets and screwups? They must. I knew Wesley was just as messed up as me, so surely the rest of the world had its imperfections, too.
“Bianca, whore is just a cheap word people use to cut each other down,” he said, his voice softer. “It makes them feel better about their own mistakes. Using words like that is easier than really looking into the situation. I promise you, you’re not a whore.”
I looked at him, into his warm gray eyes, and suddenly understood what he was trying to tell me. The message hidden beneath the words.
You’re not alone.
Because he understood. He understood how it felt to be abandoned. He understood the insults. Understood me.
I pushed myself onto my tiptoes and kissed him-really kissed him. It was more than just a precursor to sex. There was no war between our mouths. My hips rested lightly beneath his, not pressed tightly. Our lips moved in soft, perfect harmony with each other. This time it meant something. What that something was, I didn’t know at the time, but I knew that there was a real connection between us. His hands stroked gently through my hair, his thumb grazing my cheek-still damp from crying earlier. And it didn’t feel sick or twisted or unnatural. Actually, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
I slid off his shirt, and he pulled mine over my head. Then he laid me down on the bed. No rush. This time things were slow and earnest. This time I wasn’t looking for an escape. This time it was about him. About me. About honesty and compassion and everything I’d never expected to find in Wesley Rush.
This time, when our bodies connected, it didn’t feel dirty or wrong.
It felt horrifyingly right.
18
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 wide-eyed 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-”