Come Friday

by Brooke St. James

I found myself on a rooftop patio with Wes Bishop. Just a few feet away, there was music and chaos, and yet here we were, completely alone and secluded. Wes smiled at me—a mischievous grin that took my breath away as he came to stand next to me. The patio was small, so he only had to take a step or two. There was a tiny table to one side with just enough room for us to stand by the rail.

  Wes reached out for me, and I went instantly and willingly into his arms. He was everything I wanted, but I had forced myself to ignore my feelings for so long that it was difficult for me to give in to them. Falling into stride with Wes was so new to me that I couldn't help but feel a little stiff and uncertain as he pulled me close.

  "Come here," he urged, causing me to relax a little. He wrapped his arms around me confidently and securely.

  I felt him feeling around on my side, and I smiled when I realized he had found my leather sheath. It was concealed under my shirt, and it hugged my side, but he found it nonetheless, and we smiled at each other when we both realized what he was touching.

  "That's super hot," he said.

  I laughed. "What? That I carry a weapon?"

  "And that you know how to use it," he said. "Mostly that you know how to use it. Anyone can carry it."

  He adjusted, pulling me closer. He held me in his arms and stared down at me like all was right with the world now that we were in this position. He regarded me like we belonged together.

  "I bought you one," I said.

  "One what?"

  "One of these sheaths. It's similar. My mom made mine, so I couldn't find one exactly like it. I bought you a knife to go in it, too."

  He smiled at me. "I'm glad you bought me something."

  "Why, you like presents?"

  "Yeah, but more because I bought you something, too."

  "You did?" I asked, pulling back and scanning his body as if I might find something on his person.

  "Yep."

  "What is it?"

  "It's a little more embarrassing to give than a knife."

  My face turned to one of true confusion, which caused Wes to laugh. My heart was already pounding from being in his arms, but now that there was talk about an embarrassing gift, it rattled in my chest. I knew it couldn't possibly be true, but for the sake of honesty, I'll admit that the first thing that went through my mind was that he was about to propose.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "A ticket to Memphis," he said. "I already bought it, so you sort of have to agree to come with me. I'm sorry about you missing work. I hope they don't get too mad at you. We're staying for like two weeks."

  I grinned at him. It was a nervous grin because my head was full of thoughts. "You're joking."

  He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

  "When?"

  "Today—I just bought it like a few hours ago."

  "Not when did you buy the ticket," I said. "When are you going?"

  "When are we going?" he said.

  My smile broadened. "When are we going?" I asked.

  "We're leaving on the nineteenth, I think, and we'll be back around the end of the month."

  My eyes widened. "That long?"

  His expression turned beseeching. "Please say you'll come. I think I need you, Jo. I realized during these last few days that I need you. I really want you with me. I missed you."

  He squeezed my waist, pulling me toward him where our bodies pressed against each other. I was looking straight into his eyes as I reached up and touched a little lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. I let my fingertips trace the side of his face, and he closed his eyes and took a breath as if enjoying my touch.

  "Baby girl, I have to get ready," he said opening his eyes. "Bucktooth Bobby had to cut a couple of songs from their set list because the bass player's sick. We have to go on a few minutes early."

  I flinched as if trying to break free from his grasp so that I could let him go, but he held me securely in place. "I wasn't telling you that to make you leave right this second," he said. "I was saying it so you don't think I'm trying to rush you when I kiss you."

  I cut my eyes to the side in the direction of the door with the little window, instinctually making sure nobody was watching us.

  "Nobody's looking," he said.

  "I'm nervous," I said, honestly.

  "I know."

  "How?"

  "Because you're wiggling around."

  I became still when I realized he was right. My hands were resting on his shoulders, and I reached up and touched the side of his face.

  "I'm so happy you're here," he said.

  "Me too," I said.

  He stared at me sincerely. His expression changed slightly as if he was contemplating saying something and trying to find the right words. "I'm really sorry it took me so long to figure it out," he said. "I think you might've seen it before I did. I'm sorry if that's the case. I'm really happy that, well, that you're still here. That you're here now."

  His words were raw and honest, and I felt them pierce my heart. "I don't know if I saw something you didn't see, but I hoped it, that's for sure."

  "You hoped for what? Me and you?"

  I gave him a shy nod. Wes let go of the hold he had on my waist and he placed his hands on the side of my face. I naturally repositioned, wrapping my arms around his waist. He held me there, his face only inches from mine as he scanned my face from my eyes to my lips. He licked his bottom lip as he stared at mine, and my knees got weak. I leaned into him pulling him closer to me.

  "You don't have to tell me anything," he said. "You don't have to say a word back to me. But I want you to know something, Jo. I love you. I really do. I've thought about it a lot, and my heart knows it's true. I've never said that to another woman, and I'm saying it to you. I'm so relieved now that I figured it out. I want to just be beside you, stand next to you, hold you. I love you something terrible, JoJo. I love you something fierce. I love you all the way up to outer space and back." He glanced up at the stars and then at me again.

  "We've got one more song for you guys!" The singer's announcement cut through the night air, and when I realized what he was saying I stared at Wes with wide eyes.

  "It's fine," he said. He still had a hold of my face as he leaned in, gently placing his lips so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my mouth. I was weak with desire. Love and passion flooded my body, causing me to feel hot and tingly.

  "Wes," I whispered, our mouths almost touching. "I love you too."

  He gave me a little grin just before he pressed his lips to mine. They were soft and warm, and they molded to mine in what seemed like a perfect fit.

  He kissed me over and over again—soft, tender kisses where our mouths just kept finding home against each other's. Finally, after what must have been ten or twenty kisses (I lost count)… finally, he tilted his head to the side, urging me to let him kiss me more deeply. I easily gave in. I opened my mouth, and he accepted the invitation, letting his tongue gently slide into my mouth, moving next to mine. We kissed deeply, finding a pulsing rhythm where we exchanged passion and revealed just how deprived we had both been feeling for one another. We held onto each other for dear life.

  I let out an unintentional whimper when he finally pulled away, and he smiled at me before kissing me again. Two, and then three, four more times, he let his lips hit mine gently.

  "JoJo, I have to go, my sweet princess."

  "I know," I whispered.

  We reluctantly let go of each other, and he led me by the hand back inside.

  "I thought you fell over," someone said the instant we came into the room.

  "We were only out there for like five minutes," Wes said.

  "Try twenty-five," the guy said.

  As I glanced around, I realized that the group that was in there earlier had dwindled to four or five guys… no girls at all. I deduced that they had already gone out to get their seats for the show, and knew I should do the same.

  Wes let out a laugh as he continued leading m
e to the door that led to the hallway. The door had been propped open before, but now it was closed. Wes pulled it open and stopped at the threshold, holding the door in a way that let me know I was leaving but he was staying behind.

  "I need to go over a few things with the guys," he said as he brought my hand to his mouth. He kissed the back of it. "You're riding home with me, so don't leave with your brother."

  "I won't," I said.

  I took off toward the venue, but almost instantly, I heard Wes say, "Hey." I turned and regarded him from over my shoulder.

  "You know I love you?" he asked.

  "You told me that," I said.

  "You love me back?" he asked.

  "You already know I do," I said.

  He smiled and disappeared into the room again. I went down the hallway, into the club, and straight toward the ladies room. It was even busier in there than it had been before, but I hardly noticed. It felt as if I was floating on clouds. I had to wait in line for a stall to open up. I carried a small, leather purse, and I opened it and took out a mirror once I closed the door and latched the lock.

  The lighting was dim, but I had never been the type of girl to stand at the sink and make adjustments in a mirror—especially when a restroom was as busy as this one. I could see and feel myself shaking as I held the tiny mirror in front of my face. I had to steady myself against the side of the stall to get a good look at my reflection. Thankfully, I did not have lipstick all over my face. I did, however, have none to speak of on my mouth. My lips were swollen and sensitive, and the sight of them caused the memory of his passionate kiss to hit me, which caused my stomach to tighten again. I smiled at myself when I realized I was squeezing the mirror in pure delight.

  I applied some powder to my cheeks and chin before putting on a fresh coat of lipstick. I was so wound up about the kiss and about all the things Wes had said about loving me, that for a second, I had completely forgotten that he wanted me to go to Memphis with him.

  All sorts of ideas and emotions began flooding my body at the thought. What if I go with him? What if we got married? What if we moved there? What would his family think of me? Could this possibly be real? Am I in love? Is he the one? How would I like living in Memphis? How would Wes feel about moving back home? Don't get ahead of yourself. Are you even going on the trip? Yes, you're going on the trip. Of course you are, don't be ridiculous. What am I going to say to them? How am I going to act like I'm not nervous to meet them when I'm so nervous? Don't be a respecter of persons. The Bishops are the same as a penniless, homeless person. We're all just humans. I'm so in love. I'm a human who's in love. I love him. I can't believe I said it. He said it. We both said it. What's happening? How did I end up here?

  My mind raced, thinking about one thing after another in no specific order. I was only in that stall for a minute or two, but my thoughts ran wild the whole time.

  Music was playing as I made my way toward our table, but it was neither the opening band nor Wes's band—it was a remix of a popular song that I heard on the radio all the time. The atmosphere in the venue was lively and expectant, and I realized as I approached the table that the bands were both on stage—one of them breaking their equipment down and the other setting theirs up.

  "Where'd you go?" Luke asked.

  "Yeah, where were you?" Katie added as I came to stand next to her.

  They obviously located an extra stool, because there were now three of them around the table. Katie pointed to the third one, and I walked around to the back of the table to sit on it.

  "Are you sure you don't want it?" I asked, directing my question to Micah and my brother since they were still standing.

  They both shook their heads and gestured for me to have a seat.

  "We saved it for you," Katie said.

  "Where'd you go?" Luke repeated.

  "Backstage," I said, leaning over the table and yelling to compete with the sound of the crowd and music. "Not really backstage, I corrected, glancing at the location of the stage and realizing there was nothing behind it.

  "There's a room back there for the band. They have snacks and stuff, and a little balcony. It's pretty cool."

  My brother just continued to look at me with a befuddled expression. He knew Wes and I had been spending a lot of time together, but he had no idea things had changed between us, and I could tell he was waiting for me to explain.

  "I think he broke up with Shea," I said.

  "You think?" Luke asked, sarcastically. "He came over here acting like he was your boyfriend or something."

  "What if he is?" I asked. I tried, but I was unable to contain a grin from spreading across my face.

  "Is he?" Chasidy asked.

  She and Katie both leaned toward me with wide-eyed expressions that made me giggle.

  "Are you dating him now?" Luke asked.

  I shrugged. "He asked me to go to the States with him."

  Luke dramatically turned and took a step away from the table before turning to look at me again. He held his hands on his head and stared at me with a seriously flabbergasted expression. "To Memphis?" he asked, looking intense.

  I smiled shyly and nodded.

  I could see Luke's wheels turning. He hesitated to say too much, but he was such a fan of Bishop motorcycles that going to Memphis to check out the birthplace and headquarters of the company would be would be a dream come true for him—let alone meeting the family.

  "You get to go to Memphis?" he asked. "When?"

  "In a couple of weeks, I think."

  Chapter 15

  Everyone at the table was so curious about my mysterious new relationship with Wes that they asked me question after question about it. Katie and Chasidy both wanted details about Wes, but my brother was mostly curious about my impending trip to Memphis.

  Katie and Chasidy gathered from our conversation that Wes was part of the same Bishop family that made the motorcycles, but they had no idea the extent of their success in America or about the ties the family had to Courtney Cole. Luke was extremely excited and curious, but he and I both had the presence of mind not to share too much in front of everyone else.

  Wes's band started playing about ten minutes after I got to the table. I was so amped from the kiss that I had almost forgotten how very much I loved watching him perform. I could not be prouder of him. He owned that stage. He wore ripped jeans and a simple white t-shirt, and he looked like a million bucks. His electric guitar hung near his hips, and during the times when he took a break from playing, he would hold onto the microphone as he sang into it.

  I loved it when he did that.

  Other girls loved it, too.

  I was a hundred percent aware of the fact that he had adoring female fans. I could see them staring at him longingly from the section near the stage. It was something I had gotten used to in the weeks since we had known each other. In all honesty, the time that Wes and I had spent in the friend zone had served me well.

  Don't get me wrong, I would have quit it any second and moved onto the more-than-friend zone if he would have been interested, but looking back, it was a beneficial experience for me. I got to know him as a friend first. I got to understand how trustworthy and loyal he was. I got to experience a different side of him and realize that I thoroughly trusted him.

  I knew he meant it earlier when he said he loved me—I could feel it from his heart to mine. So now, I didn't feel threatened by all of those girls who were gathered around the stage. On the contrary, I felt proud of him. Proud that he was compelling enough as a musician to cause them to scream and yell after every song. Proud that he could manage to make them all feel special enough to swoon over him and line up for all of his shows.

  The band played what must have been ten songs before Wes announced that the final three numbers were songs they had never before performed live. Wes often practiced in front of me, and these were brand-new songs, even to me. I had been glued to my stool the entire show, but it would have taken an earthquake to cause me to get
up during these final songs. They were written for me—not just for me, but also about me. My name was even repeated in the chorus of one of them, and when he sang that one, Katie squeezed my arm the entire time like she was a blood pressure monitor. I hardly noticed her because my eyes were fixed on my man. He knew where I was sitting, and he glanced at me often during these final songs.

  The crowd erupted when they finished playing the last song. Wes thanked everyone for coming out, and then all four guys walked off the stage. For what must have been a full minute, the crowd cheered for an encore.

  Wes finally came out, but this time he was by himself. Off to the side of the stage, there was an acoustic guitar, and Wes shrugged into it, adjusting the fit and position as the crowd (mostly the women in the crowd) went crazy.

  "May I have that stool if nobody's using it?" he asked, squinting into the crowd and pointing at a spot near by the stage.

  I saw the silhouette of a stool being thrust into the air the instant he asked for it, and Wes reached out with one hand to take it from the person. He sat it on the stage and took a seat on it, adjusting the microphone and then the guitar.

  "I'm gonna do this last one by myself, if that's okay."

  Screams of approval came from the audience, and he smiled as he began playing notes on the acoustic.

  "It's called Say I’m Not Late." He mumbled the words into the mic as he continued playing notes, and I racked my brain, trying to think if I had ever heard that song or if it was another new one. I had seen him play his acoustic guitar before, but he never did it in front of an audience.

  He played a beautiful sequence of notes.

  They were slow and gripping.

  I loved the song before he even began singing.

  Don't have to say you love me,

  Baby, I can see you do.

  You were waitin, waitin', baby,

  For me to love you too.

  Gave me time and patience,

  Gave me all your soul.

  But I gave you nothin',

  Cept my rock and roll.

  Oh, baby please,

  Say I'm not late.