“Yeah,” Casey said. “Wesley Rush’s place? I know where it is.” She was curious, but she tried to hide it behind her anger. Her acting skills were no better than mine. “Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” And she hung up.
I shut the phone and shoved it into my back pocket.
Ten minutes. Just ten short minutes.
I sighed and leaned against the railing of the balcony. From here, boring-ass Hamilton looked like a creepy ghost town. The streets were empty this early in the morning (they were never really busy, to be honest), and all the little gray-roofed shops were closed. The image wasn’t helped by the dull, sunless sky that left everything under a layer of gloom.
Sunless gloom. Go figure, right?
“You may not be aware of this, but humans tend to sleep in on Saturdays.”
I turned around and found Wesley standing at the balcony entrance, rubbing his eyes sleepily with a little smile on his face. Despite the chilly wind, he was wearing nothing but his black boxers. Damn, he had an amazing body… but I couldn’t think about that. I had to end this.
“We need to talk.” I tried to find something to look at besides his hot, half-naked body. My feet seemed like the best option.
“Hmm,” Wesley mused, running a hand through his messy curls. “You know, my father says those are the four most frightening words a woman can say. He claims that nothing good ever begins with ‘We need to talk.’ You’re worrying me a little here, Duffy.”
“We should go inside.”
“That’s not promising.”
I followed him into his bedroom, wringing my hands uncontrollably. (Sweaty palms are so attractive.) He flopped onto his bed and waited for me to do the same, but I remained standing. I couldn’t get too comfortable. Casey would be there to pick me up in about eight and a half minutes-I was counting-so I had to keep this short and sweet.
Or just short. Nothing about this felt sweet to me.
Anxiously, I reached up and scratched the back of my neck. “Listen,” I said. “You’re a great guy, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
Why did this sound so much like a breakup? Didn’t you actually have to be dating someone to dump them?
“Really?” Wesley asked. “Since when? You’ve never referred to me as anything better than a scumbag. I knew I’d grow on you eventually… but something tells me I should be suspicious.”
“But,” I went on, ignoring him as best I could. “I can’t do this anymore. I think we should stop, um, sleeping together.”
Yep. Definitely seemed breakup-ish to me. All I needed to do was throw in an “It’s not you; it’s me,” and it would be perfect.
“Why?” He didn’t sound hurt. Just surprised.
It hurt me that he didn’t sound hurt.
“Because this isn’t working for me anymore,” I said, sticking with the traditional lines I’d heard in movies. They were classics for a reason, after all. “I just don’t think this”-I gestured between us-“is in my, uh… either of our best interests.”
Wesley narrowed his eyes at me. “Bianca, does this have something to do with what happened last night?” he asked seriously. “If so, I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about-”
“That’s not it.”
“What, then? You’re not making sense.”
I stared at my shoes. The rubber edges were starting to peel, but the bright red fabric of the Converse hadn’t faded at all. Bright red. “I’m like Hester,” I whispered, more to myself than to Wesley.
“What?”
I looked up at him, surprised he’d heard me. “I’m like…” I shook my head. “Nothing. We’re done. I’m done.”
“Bianca-”
Two quick honks from the driveway saved me.
“I-I have to go.”
I was so focused on getting the hell out of that house that I didn’t hear the words Wesley yelled after me. His voice simply faded into the distance, where I hoped to leave him forever.
19
Casey revved the engine as I climbed into her mother’s ancient pickup truck. Miss Waller (formerly Mrs. Blithe; she went back to her maiden name after the divorce) could have had a much nicer vehicle. Back when she was married to Casey’s dad, they’d had plenty of money. Mr. Blithe had offered to buy her a Lexus, but she’d refused. She loved the rickety old Chevy, which she’d gotten her junior year of high school. Her daughter, on the other hand, despised it. Especially since it was the only vehicle she got to drive.
Casey definitely wouldn’t have turned her dad’s Lexus down. Unfortunately, Mr. Blithe had lost what generosity he ever possessed after the divorce was finalized.
She was gazing through her windshield at the almost-mansion while I pulled on my seat belt. She had pink pajamas decorated with green frogs on under her jacket, and her short hair stuck up in every direction. Unlike me, Casey could make looking like crap seem cute and sexy. She didn’t even have to try.
“Hi,” I said.
She looked over at me. Her eyes swept across my face-already searching for telltale signs of trouble-and her forehead wrinkled. After a short staring contest, she turned away and put the truck into drive, struggling a little with the stick shift. “Okay,” she said as we pulled out of the driveway. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me things are fine, because I got my ass up at seven a.m., and I might just wring your neck if you don’t give me a real answer.”
“Oh, yes, because resorting to threats always gets me talking.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Casey growled. “You’re just avoiding the subject, which you do a lot. That might work with Jess, but you should know damn well by now that it won’t throw me off one bit. Now explain. Start with why I just picked you up at Wesley’s house.”
“Because I stayed the night.”
“Yeah, I figured that much out on my own.”
I bit my lip, not completely sure why I was still hiding the truth. I mean, it wasn’t as if I could keep the truth from her for much longer. She’d have it pieced together soon enough, so why not just spill it now? Now that Wesley and I were over, anyway. Was lying-or withholding, really-just instinctive now? After all these weeks of secrecy, had I developed a habit?
And if I had, wasn’t it about time to break it?
She sighed and the truck slowed a little. “Tell me the truth, Bianca, because I’m pretty confused right now. Confused and annoyed. Last time I checked, you hated Wesley Rush. And I mean hated.”
“I did,” I said. “I still do… sort of.”
“ ‘Sort of ’? Jesus, stop dancing around the answers. Look, you’ve been ditching Jess and me for weeks. We barely see you anymore because you don’t do shit with us. Jess won’t say it, but she seriously thinks you don’t like us anymore. She’s upset, and I’m pissed because you’ve totally abandoned us. You’re always distracted and zoning out. And you dance around our fucking questions! Damn it, Bianca, give me some answers here… please.” The anger in her voice broke into a small plea of desperation. She lowered her voice. “Please, tell me what’s going on with you.”
My heart ached as guilt wrapped around my chest like a boa constrictor. I let out a long breath, knowing I couldn’t lie anymore. At least not about this. “We’ve been sleeping together.”
“Who? You and Wesley?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
“End of January.”
Casey was quiet for a long moment. Then, after it sank in, she asked, “If you hate him, why have you been hooking up with him?”
“Because… it made me feel better. With all of the drama with my parents and then Jake showing up and all… I just needed to distract myself. I wanted to escape from it all… you know, in a nonsuicidal way. Sleeping with Wesley just seemed like a decent idea at the time.” I stared out the window, not wanting to see the expression on her face. I was sure she’d be disappointed in me. Or, in a sick way, maybe even proud of me.