by Cassie Mae
I mean, if I can notice all those things, I’m sure she can too.
“Hmm … I don’t think baby blue is my color.”
My eyes go from watching the exhaust up to Wesley, arms stuck straight out and my small coat straining to cover his torso.
I hop out of the van. “Are you kidding? Reagan’s going to be all over you when she sees you in that.”
We laugh, and after several minutes of trying to get him out of the damn thing, we climb in the van, take a deep breath, and smile at each other. Time to see if the last few weeks have had any impact on our soul mates.
Talon’s house is a zoo when we get there, mostly because he has about eighty cousins under the age of ten. Reagan and I end up being the models for the girls, getting our makeup and hair done, as well as being shoved into tutus. Hey, with a glitter-covered face and side ponytail, I look hot! I’m surprised Talon’s not all over me.
And Celeste, even though she spent an hour the other day telling me about her new boyfriend, has been glued to Wesley since we got here, laughing at everything he says, complimenting him, and finding excuses to grab on to him. He’s totally sweet about it, playing Just Dance with her and letting her paint his nails. I make sure Reagan is aware of his cuteness.
Talon isn’t avoiding me today, thank heavens. He’s bumped into me twice, gotten me a glass of eggnog, and introduced me to so many people I don’t remember most of them because he had his hand on or near my elbow the whole time. When we’re done unwrapping presents with his family, we pack into Wesley’s van—after Wesley finally managed to loosen Celeste’s hold on him—and head to Reagan’s for lunch and gifts. Yay for Mrs. Kirby not catching Reagan in the condom aisle, because embarrassing conversations are kept to a minimum. It’s a surprise, since Reagan and her mom are always willing to see how red I can get when they say the word “penis.”
After that, we head to Wesley’s for gifts and games. His mom crushes the crap out of all of us in Scattergories. And it was boyfriend free until five—when we all left, he was coming up the walk. Wesley took the longest way possible to his van, walking around the guy like he was emanating BO to the max. I could tell he was tense when he hopped in the driver’s seat, so I blew a raspberry on his cheek, scaring the shit out of him so much he hit his head on the window. We all laughed our way to my house for dinner and, yes, more gifts! Did I say how much I love Christmas?
Full to the brim with Dad’s awesome cooking, we trudge back into the van and head back to Talon’s for our own gift exchange now that his place isn’t swarming with people.
“I’ll never move again,” Reagan says, throwing herself in one of the recliners at Talon’s house. “My feet quit for the rest of the day.”
Wesley doesn’t miss a beat, sitting on the floor next to her and offering to rub her feet. She instantly sticks them in his face, and I wait for Talon to say something, but instead he grabs my arm and asks, “Help me with the presents?”
I will help him with anything. The gifts we bought each other are stacked on his kitchen table, mine being the most obnoxious since they’re so big. Maybe I should rethink that whole big-box, small-gift strategy.
“Me first!” Reagan says when we set all the presents down in the center of the room. Wesley has stopped rubbing her feet, taking a spot on the couch instead. I wait to see where Talon sits, and when he takes the other recliner, I park myself next to Wesley. My heart goes wonky, like it’s not sure how to operate properly anymore. The day’s almost over, and I’m sure these presents are going to be the last attempt before Reagan sweeps Talon off into naked bliss.
Yeah, my heart’s really not working properly. As if Wesley knows this, he reaches over and squeezes my knee lightly, keeping his eyes trained on our best friends, like he didn’t touch me at all.
“Okay, Ray,” Talon says with a smile, sliding three presents in her direction. “Go for it.”
She grabs mine first, shaking it next to her ear. “Kayla, you put it in a bigger box again, didn’t you?”
We all laugh and she dives in, tearing the paper off like a frantic two-year-old. I’m cringing at her wasting all that wrapping. I could’ve totally used it for my next big box.
“Ooh!” she says, pulling out the DKNY bag and hugging it to her chest. “Thanks, girl!”
“No nail polish in this one, Reagan. Remember what happened to the one I gave you for your birthday.” I smile at her, but also keep that stern look on my face, because the last purse I got her was way cute, and she went and tossed nail polish in one of the pockets without making sure the lid was screwed on all the way. There was a mini yellow pool when she reached in for her wallet.
Reagan waves me off, setting it next to her hip and grabbing Wesley’s gift to her. I try to keep my eyes off him, but I can’t help it. They float to his, and he winks at me before looking back at Reagan.
“Wes! You’re hilarious.” She laughs and pulls out a big bag of Laffy Taffy, a card taped to the top of it. She doesn’t read it out loud, but it makes her laugh again, leap off the recliner, and give him an airtight hug, boobs smack in his face. “Thank you.”
What the big deal with Laffy Taffy is, I don’t know, but again Wesley amazes me.
Talon shifts in his seat when Reagan grabs the last gift, and he starts rubbing his hands together. I’m sort of feeling the same way, that maybe he should’ve given it to her privately, but I know she’ll love it. And that I’m majorly jealous of it.
“Oh honey.” Reagan looks at the earrings, hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. I have to force the smile on my face. “I love them, thanks.”
She jumps over, and they peck and hug. He whispers something in her ear that makes her blush, and instead of going back to her seat, Reagan stays on his lap.
“Okay, who’s next?”
Wesley grabs the presents for me, and I hurry through them because I’m starting to feel sick. Reagan gets me a Wonderbra, to add to my embarrassment from the G-strings last year. She laughs, and I try to laugh with her while also trying to ignore the feeling that there’s a blinking sign on my chest that says No Boobs Here.
Talon says, “Babe, that’s not what I told you to get her.” His eyes send out waves of apologies at me, but after all, it’s Reagan—did we really think she’d get me car seat covers?
Apparently someone thought to, because Wesley’s present is just that. And they aren’t pink either. Score! I ask him if he’ll put them on for me because he put on the last ones. He tells me that he’ll do it for a small fee, gesturing to the bra. I shove him off the couch.
My hands are shaking like crazy when I start carefully taking the wrapping off Talon’s gift. I recycle.
“Um …?” I ask, pulling out a brick of cheese, staring at the three others in the box.
“Parmesan, asiago, mozzarella, provolone.” He gives me that stunning smile, his ice blue eyes staring at me like I should get it, but I don’t. He laughs. “The four cheeses on cheese pizza.”
How totally sweet! I thought he’d spaced during that humiliating conversation, but he was so listening. I don’t even care that Reagan’s sitting on his lap or that she’s wearing beautiful earrings. Talon’s gift to me means something. I know it.
Before I can recover from that, Wesley’s already into his presents, opening Talon’s first, Reagan’s second, and mine last. He saves the wrapping for me, even folding it and handing it back with a smirk.
“Wait, are these steel-coated?” he asks me, taking out the guitar strings and examining the package.
“Um, I think so. I asked the guy what ones are the best.”
His mouth pops open, and for a second I’m worried I got the wrong ones, but he gives me a one-armed hug. Dropping his voice, he says in my ear, “I told you not to spend a lot.”
“I didn’t.” Forty bucks isn’t that much.
“Kayla, I know how much these are.”
“Do you like them?”
“Of course.”
“Then shut up and be happy ab
out it.”
He laughs and pulls back, and I discover that Talon is already opening his last present. Thanks to Wesley, I totally missed him opening my awesome gift card.
Talon does wink at me, though, so I’ll take that as a thank-you.
Reagan’s bouncing on his leg. “Hurry, babe!” she says, helping him tear all the tape she put on it. The second the wrapping rips open, my stomach rips with it. She didn’t …
It’s dead silent as the boxes of condoms and lube fly from their hands and land on the floor. My mouth is stuck in the open position, and Wesley seems to have lost the ability to breathe. Talon’s face goes ghost white, while Reagan seems to be the only one in the room who hasn’t turned into a statue.
“Whoops!” she says, picking up the safe sex items and placing them back in Talon’s hands. She pecks him on the cheek and says, “Merry Anniversary!”
I’m waiting for Wesley to do something—make a joke like he normally does, ease the tension in the room the way he’s so good at. But he doesn’t. He’s sitting next to me staring at the now empty spot on the floor where the condoms were. After a quick glance around the room, Reagan starts to realize no one is laughing, so she pouts at her boyfriend.
“Do you not like it?”
I’m so embarrassed for her, I almost cry. Why isn’t Wesley doing something? Save us all from this!
“Um, can I talk to you for a minute?” Talon asks Reagan, sliding her from his lap. They turn the corner into the hall but don’t go far enough away for me and Wesley not to catch every word they say.
“What is this?” Talon asks, the tone of his voice causing an anxiety attack in me. I hate conflict, and I don’t want to hear them fight. I know that tone will make Reagan bite back with a fury.
“Wow, Talon. I thought you were experienced with this stuff. You should know what they are.”
“Why did you buy these? Why did you give them to me in front of everybody? Do you have any idea how messed up that is?”
“What? I thought you wanted this. Wanted me.”
“You know that’s not what this is about. Do you think you’re being funny? Trying to make a joke out of what we’ve been fighting about?”
“It’s not a big deal, Talon. Just thought you’d want to have sex with your girlfriend. But I guess you’d rather sleep with half the cheerleaders instead.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is all this? I start taking deep inhales and exhales, pushing through the tightness in my chest. Wesley’s hand methodically rubs my back while I try to calm the anxiety. I want to cover my ears, but I’m so confused about everything, I’m not sure if I can not hear.
“Shit, Reagan. That was a long time ago, and I haven’t pressured you about anything.”
“That’s the problem. I want you to want me like you wanted them. You don’t even touch me.”
“So buying me condoms, that’s how you decide to tell me about this?”
“I thought you’d appreciate the gesture!”
“Not in front of our friends! Damn it, do you even get how embarrassing that is? I don’t want them to know about our sex life.”
“Or lack of sex life.”
Tears are creeping down my face, my whole body wanting to run from this spot and never come back. Wesley puts another hand on my back, kneading my shoulders with his thumbs, almost as if he’s trying to push all the tightness out of me.
“They don’t need to deal with this shit. Why can’t you buy normal presents? Or do things privately? I’m pretty sure Kayla didn’t want to open up underwear in front of us all again this year. Do you get how insulting it is? I’m sitting there with stuff that tells people about what should be between you and me, but now it’s out there for everyone to know.”
“They’re our best friends. It’s not like they don’t know already.”
“Of course. You have an excuse for everything.”
“Talon, all I wanted was to show you I want you.”
“Then tell me! Don’t do stupid shit like this.”
“Fine!”
A loud thump and the sound of breaking glass finally unfreezes me and Wesley, and we jump off the couch. I’m still shaking and trying to control my breathing. You’d think I’d be happy about the fighting, but I’m not. I hate it. I hate that I’m hearing it. I hate that it’s two people I love. Even though I don’t want them together, I don’t want them hating each other either.
Wesley turns the corner first and stops so suddenly I slam into his back.
“Ouch! Jeez, Wesley—”
I stop in midcomplaint, following his stunned gaze to where Talon and Reagan are attacking each other down the hall. And when I say attacking, I mean half their clothes are off already and Reagan is pulling Talon into one of the guest rooms. The door slams, shutting us out. Along with any hope that this night wouldn’t turn out exactly the way Reagan thought it would.
I slide down the wall and let the last of my anxiety seep out, replacing it with complete failure.
Step 14:
Find Comfort Food
(Or a substitute for it that won’t make your butt grow out of your pants.)
It’s late. So beyond late it may be considered early. I can’t sleep, and I can’t stop thinking about how dumb I am. How completely airheaded was I to ever think I could split those two lovebirds up before The Night? They were even fighting at maximum level of dysfunction before locking themselves away. Why can’t they see how wrong they are for each other?
I stare at the fire, watching the flames but not really watching them. My eyes are stuck open, and my mind is replaying the scene I witnessed before Reagan pulled Talon into that room. All I keep thinking is it’s supposed to be me. It’s selfish and idiotic even to think he’d ever want me in return, but I can’t help it. I’m suffering a new level of torture. The guy I’ve been crushed out on for years and years is sleeping with my best friend. And if I think this is bad, wait till tomorrow, when Reagan tells me every single thing.
If only I was as open as she was about anything romantic. I’d have opened up about Talon way before they even started dating, and then maybe things would be different. But that didn’t happen, and it sucks. I need comfort food stat, but I can’t find it in me to move from the spot.
I pick at the glitter polish on my toenails and let silent tears stroke my cheeks. Then I cry even harder because I’m freaking crying over something I can’t talk to anyone about. Can’t tell my best friend, my crush, my mom or dad … I don’t know if I’m crying more because I’m sad or because I’m sad about something I shouldn’t be sad about.
My phone buzzes on the armrest, and I figure it’s a spam email or Facebook notification or something stupid that doesn’t matter. But it’s a distraction, so I look at it.
Not an email. A text. From Wesley.
You awake?
I rest my chin on my knee as I type back.
Of course.
I hope he doesn’t want to talk about this via text, since it’s a paper trail. But I suppose it’s better than him actually being here and seeing me cry like a huge baby over it.
Will you let me in?
I nibble on my tongue before putting the phone back on the armrest. Making sure my eyes are as dry as I can possibly make them, I pluck myself off the couch and tiptoe to my front door. I take a peek through the peephole and see Wesley standing on the porch, fiddling with his phone and shivering in his big green coat. Don’t know why, but it makes me smile that he’s here.
I slowly unlock the dead bolt and pull the door open enough for him to slide in. He shakes his hair free of snow and unzips his coat. I don’t even hesitate about jumping into his arms when he opens them to me. Normally I would—hesitate, I mean—but it hides the fresh wave of tears creeping up behind my eyelids. I can talk to Wesley, but I’m not sure I want to. Holding each other seems to be working just as well, since we can’t really talk ourselves into feeling better about what’s going on.
My arms lock around him underneath his coat
, and I never realized how much I really like the gummy bear smell Wesley has. It’s oddly comforting. Like he’s my comfort food. Which is so ridiculous I end up snorting a laugh through all my tears.
“Something funny?” he asks, and I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s grinning like an idiot over the top of my curls.
I shake my head, trying to be subtle about inhaling the scent of his cotton T-shirt. “Not really. Just thinking.”
“Yeah. Me too. Can’t stop thinking, in fact. That’s why I showed up at your door at three in the morning.”
Is it three? I honestly had no idea other than I’d been up way longer than everyone else. “What would you have done if I was asleep?”
“Knew you wouldn’t be.”
What a cocky ass. I pinch his side as I pull away from him, but at least my tears have been replaced by laughter. I’m so glad he’s back to normal.
Wesley shrugs out of his coat and follows me back to the fireplace. I flop on the floor so he can have the couch to himself in case he wants to sleep, but he plops down next to me, sitting cross-legged while I fold my knees under my chin again. The nail polish is almost completely gone from my toenails, so I dig at the little that remains.
The fire crackles and becomes the only sound in the room—besides Wesley’s breathing, which is a little off, to be honest. Like he jogged here. He’s not panting, but it’s definitely not normal. I want to look at him, but what if he’s crying? I do not do well with crying people. Which is stupid, since I bawled into his belly button. And Reagan is so full of drama she’s either crying a river or laughing up a storm. But guys crying? I can’t help but think that’s sexy. And I can’t be thinking Wesley is sexy.
“I always wanted a fireplace growing up.”
Okay, so I’m delusional. Because when I finally look at Wesley, he’s not crying at all. His eyes are glossy, but it’s probably because of the fire reflecting in them. He’s sort of smiling and his fingers are curled around his shoelaces.
