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She sounds a little snooty and refers to Mr. Heart like she’s familiar with him.
Something I don’t like at all.
There is some clicking and tapping, then she recommends logging out and back in again.
“If it’s still a problem, Mr. Heart can call me again and I’ll be glad to help,” she says dreamily.
I hang up, making a face, putting his phone down a little too hard.
“Everything alright?” he asks, frowning.
“Who is she?” I nearly spit, surprising myself at how jealous I feel.
“Who’s who?” he asks, confused.
I only stare at the phone, then back at him, my eyes like slits.
“I dunno, whoever the office put me through to,” he reasons aloud. But I can only scowl harder, hating the idea of anyone being so easy with Wes.
My Wes.
It’s stupid, I know. But I’ve already given myself to him in my mind.
Talk about making myself miserable.
As if this guy would ever…
“You hungry?” he asks, breaking my mood in the easiest way, mentioning food.
I’m starving, but we haven’t gotten to the bottom of his computer problem yet.
“Uh, I need you to log out then back in again, but maybe wait until this de-frag is done,” I remark, my lip curling into a smile as I watch him pretend to know what that means.
“But food though?” he says eagerly, making me laugh.
Hearing my laugh bounce off the walls, I realize I haven’t laughed in ages, not real laughter anyway.
Wes just makes me feel so many things, like hot and cold. Jealous then laughing.
Shy and then wild, like an animal that wants to tear its clothes off.
Like someone who’s suddenly thinking things, things I’ve never thought possible.
Things I want him to do to me.
Right now though, he only wants to know if I’m hungry, and I turn bright red when my stomach answers for me.
A low, groaning sound, like a deep sea whale song drones from my belly as his brow cocks with interest.
“I thought so,” he remarks, snapping his phone up again and starting to busy himself with it.
“No allergies?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“You okay with fish?” he murmurs, deep in thought as his thick fingers tap the screen.
I nod, hoping he’s ordering anything that’s got fish as long as it’s not-
“Sushi alright?” he asks briefly, double-checking before hitting send.
“My favorite,” I squeak, kicking myself straight away.
Kissing the rest of my weekend goodbye.
I hate Sushi.
Every time I have it, it makes me nauseous.
But when Wes Heart asks me if I like something and he’s buying?
I love it.
It’s my favorite.
I could eat it all night.
Idiot.
“Done,” he calls out in triumph. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered for us both. I eat in a lot,” he confesses.
I strain a smile and watch his amusement grow. “You sure you like sushi?” he asks me again, and I only make it worse by insisting it’s my favorite.
He beams with pleasure, until I turn my attention to his photos, wanting to change the subject.
“Are all these you?” I ask, getting up and having a closer look.
The change in his mood is instant, and I feel like I’ve done or said the wrong thing.
“It used to be me,” he says gloomily, his shoulders sagging. His eyes moving to the empty space on the wall, where at least one picture used to hang.
“Sorry,” I whisper, “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright,” he says, suddenly gripping his lower back and wincing, as if the memory is physically painful as well.
“Just ancient history,” he says, trying to smile but I feel like I’ve ruined the moment.
Agreeing to sushi, and then mentioning the one thing I probably shouldn’t have without even knowing what it is.
Dammit!
Chapter Six
Wesley
She looks even cuter when she’s mad, giving me a sour look when she has to speak to another female about me, even over the phone.
Maybe I stand a chance after all.
I don’t think I could have hidden my annoyance at being interrupted by that security guard much more either.
Cuter when shy or mad, even when she’s lying she’s beautiful.
Just a little white lie, but I can read people well enough to know when someone’s agreeing to food they hate just to squeeze out of an awkward situation, like bringing up a man’s past he doesn’t want to think about let alone discuss on a first date.
Is that what you think this is, a date, Wes?
Almost feeling the wrath of my fellow teachers, professors, and coaches, I remind myself this isn’t a date.
I’m only here with Katelyn so she can get my computer up and running.
Just a thank you meal and then I’ll walk her home.
And if that’s as far as it goes then fine.
I’ll just rub myself raw ‘til I’ve drained my balls then go join a monastery.
I’m trying to not think about her like that, I really am.
Anyone else who fibs about loving raw fish and then eyeballing my past like it’s a topic of conversation, I’d have shown them the door already, computer be damned.
