But that’s how we Pipers handled stress.
Alone.
Why was that? Why couldn’t either of us open up? Why couldn’t Dad admit that he and Mom were having issues? Why couldn’t I confront him about it?
“Hello, Duffy.”
Why did that jackass have to sit next to me?
“Go away, Wesley,” I growled, staring down at my restless fingers.
“I can’t,” he said. “You see, Duffy, I’m not one to give up easily. I am determined to hook up with one of your friends-preferably the one with the fantastic rack.”
“Then go talk to her,” I suggested.
“I would, but Wesley Rush doesn’t chase girls. They chase him.” He grinned at me. “It’s all right. She’ll be over here begging me to sleep with her soon. Talking to you will just speed up the process. Until then, you get the honor of my company. Lucky for me, it doesn’t look like you’re armed with a beverage tonight.” He laughed but stopped suddenly. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t look up. “Are you all right? You don’t seem as aggressive as usual.”
“Leave me alone, Wesley. I’m serious.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Go away.”
The anxiety inside me needed to escape, to be released in some way. I couldn’t wait until Casey and I got back to her house to vent. I needed to let it out right then. But I didn’t want to cry, not in front of half the school, and there was no way I was going to talk about it with Joe or the douche bag next to me, and punching someone would just get me in trouble. I couldn’t see any other options, but I felt like I’d explode if I didn’t let it out soon.
Mom was in California.
Dad was drowning.
I was too much of a coward to do a damn thing about it.
“There has to be something bothering you,” Wesley persisted. “You look like you might cry.” He put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn and face him. “Bianca?”
Then I did a really fucked-up thing. My only excuse is that I was under an unbelievable amount of stress, and I spotted an outlet. I needed something to distract me-anything far away from my parents’ drama-just for a second. And when I saw my chance I didn’t stop to think about how much I’d regret it later. An opportunity sat on the bar stool beside me, and I lunged at it. Literally.
I kissed Wesley Rush.
One second his hand lay on my shoulder, and his gray eyes rested, for once, on my face, and the next my mouth was on his. My lips were fierce with bottled emotion, and he seemed to tense, his body frozen in shock. That didn’t last very long. An instant later, he returned the aggression, his hands flying to my sides and pulling me toward him. It felt like a battle between our mouths. My hands clawed into his curly hair, tugging it way harder than necessary, and his fingertips dug into my waist.
It worked better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help me release the agonizing pressure, but it definitely distracted me. I mean, it’s hard to think about your dad when you’re making out with somebody.
And as disturbing as it sounds, Wesley was a really good kisser. He leaned into me, and I tugged at him so hard that he nearly fell off his bar stool. In that moment, we just couldn’t get close enough to each other. Our separate seats seemed like they were miles apart.
All of my thoughts vanished, and I became a sort of physical being. Emotions disappeared. Nothing existed but our bodies, and our warring lips were at the center of everything. It was bliss! It was amazing not to think.
Nothing! Nothing… until he screwed it up.
His hand slid up from my waist, trailing along my torso, and came to a stop right on my boob.
Everything flooded back, and I suddenly remembered exactly who I was kissing. I tore my hands out of his hair and shoved him away from me as hard as I could. Anger-fresh, hot anger-surged through me, completely replacing the anxious worry I’d been feeling a minute before. His hands dropped, one landing on my knee, as he pulled away. He looked surprised but distinctly pleased.
“Wow, Duffy, that was-”
And I slapped him. I slapped him so hard, my palm stung with the contact.
The hand on my knee flew to his cheek. “What the hell?” he demanded. “Why did you do that?”
“Asshole!” I yelled. I jumped off my stool and stormed onto the dance floor. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was madder at myself than at him.
4
Casey’s queen-size bed was incredibly warm. The pillows were soft, and I felt like I could sink into the fluffy mattress and live there forever. But I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned on my side of the bed, trying not to wake Casey up. I counted sheep. I did that thing where you relax every part of your body from the big toe up. I even imagined one of Mr. Chaucer’s rambling lectures on public policy.
Still wide awake.
I was bottling again, but it had nothing to do with Dad this time. I’d gotten that off my chest after Casey and I had dropped Jessica off earlier that night.
“I’m getting worried about Dad,” I’d told her. I’d waited until Jessica was out of the car to talk about it. I knew she wouldn’t have understood. Jessica was from a happy, healthy two-parent family. Casey, on the other hand, had already seen her parents’ relationship crumble. “He’s so clueless. I mean, isn’t it obvious that it isn’t working? Shouldn’t they just get the fucking divorce and be done with it?”
“Don’t say that, B,” she warned. “Seriously, don’t even think that way.”
I shrugged.
“It’ll all work out,” she said, reaching over and squeezing my hand as we sped toward her house. The snow hadn’t started falling yet, but I could see clouds moving across the stars in the dark sky overhead. “She’ll come home and they’ll talk it through and have makeup sex-”
“God! Gross, Casey!”
“-and everything will be back to normal.” She paused as I pulled into her driveway. “And in the meantime, I’m here for you. If you need to talk, you know I’ll listen.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It was the same Casey Saves the Day speech I’d been hearing for twelve years, any time the slightest problem appeared in my life. Not that I needed it that night, really. Honestly, since we’d left the Nest, Dad hadn’t been on my mind that much. I’d released all that stress when I’d kissed Wesley.
And that was what kept me from sleeping. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done at the Nest. My skin itched. My lips felt foreign. Plus, no matter how many times I’d brushed my teeth in Casey’s bathroom (after half an hour, she’d knocked on the door to make sure I was okay), the taste of disgusting, womanizing bastard was still in my mouth. Ugh! But the worst part was that I knew I’d done it to myself.
I’d kissed him. Yeah, he’d groped me, but what had I really expected? Wesley Rush didn’t exactly have a reputation for being a gentleman. He might have been a jackass, but I had to take the blame for this situation. That knowledge didn’t sit well with me.
“Casey,” I whispered. Okay, so waking her up at three a.m. wasn’t very nice of me, but she was the one always telling me to share or vent or whatever. So, technically, she brought this on herself. “Hey, Casey?”
“Hmm?’
“Are you awake?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell anyone?” I asked. “And will you promise not to freak out?”
“Sure, B,” she mumbled. “What is it?”
“I kissed someone tonight,” I said.
“Good for you. Now go back to sleep.”
I took a deep breath. “It was Wesley… Wesley Rush.”
Casey shot straight up in bed. “Whoa!” She shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her wide hazel eyes. “Okay, now I’m awake.” She turned to face me, her short blond hair sticking up in every possible angle. God, how did she manage to make even that look good? “OMG! What happened? I thought you hated the guy.”