by Remi Rose
Pushing myself off the bed, I stalk over to the burgundy dresser that Wes pulled his clothes out of. My eye caught something white lying on the top, it appeared to be an old picture as it rested upside down with the words “1999” sketched on the top. Curiosity got the best of me and I slowly flipped it over. It was a woman in her late twenties kneeling down behind a young boy with a big grin across his face. Her arms were secured around his waist as they both stared up into the camera with wide grins. By the bright blue eyes and dimples, I knew immediately the young boy was Wes. They looked almost identical, the same sandy hair color and eyes that were made of caribbean water.
As I held the photo in my hand, I felt almost guilty for looking at it. It was placed upside down for a reason, and glancing at the intimate photo felt like an invasion of privacy. Like any moment an alarm would go off and Wes would come barging in seeing me with the photo in my hand. Gently placing the photo back down on the dresser, I step out into the hallway and I'm immediately drawn to the last room down the hall.
For no particular reason, my eyes connected with the brown door. My heart rate begins to speed up and a voice inside my head tells me that it was “His” room. There was nothing telling me it was his room, but the instinct I had was impossible to ignore.
I knew it was his.
Taking a hesitant step forward, my heart galloped in sync with my every footstep. The closer I got to the door, the more my hand began to twitch in anticipation. Mr. Fitz wasn’t home, Wes was still in the shower, and I was always known to be a curious person. More so now than ever.
Now stopped in front of the door, I stood with my arms at my sides. In every horror movie ever made, there’s always that creepy music playing right before someone opened the door to reveal what was on the other side. Either something was going to pop out, or they were going to see something they didn’t want to see. And right now, I felt like I was in my own horror movie. Only I wasn’t scared to look behind the door, I was anxious. Suddenly, I began to lift my hand, inches away from latching onto the door handle.
“If you're looking for the bathroom, that isn’t it.” I hear Wes’s voice behind me causing me to quickly drop my hand. Startled, I spin around to catch an amused Wes scrubbing his head with a towel.
“Shit.” I grab my chest. “You scared me.” I take in his outfit, athletic shorts and thankfully a shirt covering his chest.
Tossing the towel into his room, he slicks back some curls that fell over his forehead. “You're lucky I stopped you before you walked in there.” He teases. “Who knows what kind of shit you’d find in his room.”
A faint smile forms across my face as I drop my head relieved that I wasn’t caught snooping. The last thing I needed was for Wes to find out about my slight obsession with his father. “Yah.” I laugh. “Probably his murder kit or worse.”
Wes joins in laughing. “I’d bet far worse.” He shakes his head. “Come on, let's get away from his door. You might catch something standing that close to it.”
“Yah? Like what?” I frown on instinct, but immediately catch myself.
“My mom was a stripper.” He deadpans. “Who knows what other kinds of women he’s been with.”
The harsh blow to his mom caused my breathing to momentarily stop. He rarely speaks of his mother, and by his unreadable expression, I knew he meant every sour word.
“I’m hungry.” I change the subject and start walking towards him. He stands a little taller as I brush past him and head into the kitchen. Knowing he’d follow, I stop next to the center island and lean my back against it.
“What are you hungry for?” He stops next to the fridge crossing his large arms across his chest.
“Anything.” I chuckle and a small grin appears across his lips. “Didn’t you mention pizza at school?” I glance down at my tall socks that are covered in tiny little knives before meeting Wes’s gaze.
“Yeah, we can do that.” He notices the socks for the first time and chuckles. “If anyone could pull off ugly socks like those, it’d be you.”
My cheeks instantly flush, and I have the sudden urge to rip them off. “They're not ugly.” I defend. “They’re unique.”
Uncrossing his arms, he pushes off the fridge with a look of determination across his handsome face. “Unique.” He repeats as I tilt my chin. His bare feet stop in front of mine and I feel his minty breath fan across my face. “Unique like you.”
Gripping the edge of the counter, my eyes meet his and my heart beats wildly. His hungry gaze drops down to my lips, and for a second, my eyes flutter, waiting for his mouth to land on mine. Seconds turn into what feels like minutes and I open my eyes, to see a conflicted Wes gripping the counter next to my hand. His huffing chest is brushing against my breasts, as his eyes drop down to the ground.
He appeared torn as his hand clutched the counter to the point his knuckles turned white. My mouth opened, but no words came out as his rejection sank in.
“Don’t.” He whispers under his breath like he can already tell what I’m thinking. His head lifts and pins me down with a broken stare.
A part of me was hopeful that one day I’d be able to taste his lips, even if I was going to regret it. I wondered if he was as sweet and gentle at kissing as he was with everything else.
Would he take his time?
Would he slowly savor my lips like a fine wine or devour me whole?
Staring up at his mouth, I dropped my gaze knowing it was all wishful thinking. Pushing away from being caged in by his arms, I step into the living room.
“Becca.” He calls my name desperately. He must think I’m about to leave, but I surprise myself and him when I plop down onto the couch.
“It’s fine. We're friends, we’ll always be friends.” I reassure. His friendship meant everything, and risking it for a kiss would be ridiculous.
“Yah, always.” He scratches the back of his head with a frown. “I just….” He goes on to say but stops himself. “What kind of pizza do you want?”
Crossing my legs, I try to erase the almost kiss from my brain and focus on the all brick fireplace. “Anything with bacon.”
“Alright.” He sighs. “You can put on a movie or something while I call and order.”
Without turning around, I nod my head and immediately reach for the remote. Scrolling through the channels, I land on Sleepy Hollow and focus on the screen. Fully engaged in the movie, I don’t even notice when Wes takes the seat next to me and I hear his soft chuckles beside me.
Twisting my head, I find him laid back and resting his arm behind the couch. He’s sitting close, but not nearly as close as we just were minutes ago. “What’s so funny?” My eyebrows dip in confusion.
“You are.” He continues laughing. “I kept trying to get your attention.”
“Maybe you should try harder.” I tease, shoving him with my shoulder. “I zone out whenever I watch movies.” I admit with a shrug.
“Yeah, I can tell.” His dimples appear and I can’t help but admire his face. “You want a blanket or anything?” He offers, pointing to the soft looking blanket that's thrown over the opposite side of the couch.
“Sure.” I nod, and he quickly snatches it before laying the blanket over the both of us. He’s sitting a tad closer this time, our thighs lightly brushing against one another and I feel butterflies take over in my stomach. Sure, we touched, but it was always in a friendly manner. But something about this felt different. His bare skin was touching mine and it felt hot, almost too hot to the point I wanted to move away.
“Have you seen this movie?” I ask, trying to hide the fact I scooted away from his touch.
“I haven’t.” He glances down at the small space between us. “I can’t even remember the last time I sat and watched a movie.” He admits.
“Seriously?” I glance at him with wide eyes.
Shrugging he drops his arm from behind the couch and focuses his eyes on me.
“Yeah, I’ve never been a huge fan of movies.” He chuckles know
ing that my life revolved around movies and music. “I’d rather be outside getting my hands dirty than stay inside.”
“Yah, I kind of figured that out the day I met you.” Ever since our friendship grew, he’d always try to have me do something that was completely out of my comfort zone. Whether it be ice skating, or that time he tried getting me to play a game of horse, I knew he was an outside guy.
“But, I think I’m starting to like being inside with you.” His words cause me to blush, but his stare sends a shock up my legs. He was doing it again, giving me his sweet words which I was a complete sucker for but he had no clue the effect they had on me.
The movie was nonexistent.
The sounds faded into nothing.
And the only thing that seemed to matter was the way our starving eyes matched each other.
“Fuck it.” Wes grumbles under his breath and in a flash, the blanket is thrown to the ground. I feel his hand wrap around the back of my neck, and with his fingertips he gently tugs me towards him. I don’t have time to react before his lips come crashing down on mine.
His lips brush against mine softly, as if he were unsure while he guided our mouths together. His movements were slow, like he was savoring the feel or taste of me and I found myself wanting more. I didn’t want sweet Wes. I wanted an all-consuming kiss that sent shockwaves throughout my body. My whole body was aching for more, anything to relieve this sexual need that coursed through me. I wanted rough, I wanted him to tangle his fingers in my hair and pull hard, till I was panting for more in his arms.
Slipping my tongue in his mouth, I found myself groaning against his lips. Searching for his tongue, I try to caress it with my own, but he instantly shuts that down when he goes back to his gentle kissing.
I wanted this. I wanted to feel his lips on mine, but something felt off the minute his mouth touched mine. It felt wrong, but a deep part inside of me wanted to enjoy it. I was without a doubt falling in love with my best friend, but there was something stopping me from falling all the way.
Gripping onto his cotton shirt, I tug hard urging him to give me more but I was left feeling frustrated and confused. I feel myself start to pull away from him but then suddenly the sound of a door slamming shut has my heart dropping out of my chest.
We both quickly pull away from each other and turn towards the direction of the noise. With my chest heaving trying to catch my breath, my eyes clash with Mr. Fitz who’s standing in the kitchen with fire in eyes. He looked deadly as he took in the scene before him, like he was ready to kill at any given moment. And by the way his black soulless eyes focused only one me, I knew I was his intended target.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jack
Earlier that night
“Come on.” The dark haired woman whined as she nursed a tall glass of some fruity cocktail. Pressing her chest against my side, I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name.
Kerry?
Kacey?
Whoever the fuck she was, was driving me insane. I should have never agreed to come out tonight, but the look across Becca’s face was priceless when I said yes. Her face red with fury and jealousy that sent a shock straight to my dick. As much as I enjoyed pissing her off, she was becoming a problem. It became her mission at school to rile me up in class, always staring and always trying her hardest to make me see her, notice her. But what she didn’t know was that I always fucking noticed her.
Even when I shouldn’t.
“Stay for a little bit longer.” She whined in my ear this time, making extra effort to grab my thigh.
“Can’t.” I mumble while pushing my hand away. The three other teachers that came were busy dancing to the shitty band that was playing. I, of course, was stuck with the very drunk young teacher who couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself.
“Boo.” She frowns, sipping the remaining drink she had left in her cup. “Maybe you can take me home?” She swirls the straw in her mouth, using her tongue to move it.
Pushing my beer bottle away from me, I lift off the stool and throw a twenty on the bar top. Her greedy eyes devoured me, while the tip of her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip.
“I ain’t takin’ you home, sweetheart. You and I will never happen.” I tried to let her down easy, but a part of me was trying to claw its way out. The dark, hungry side of me that hasn’t felt the warmth of a woman in years. I needed a release, and the young woman in front of me was practically begging for my cock.
But what she was offering, wasn’t what I wanted.
Turning my heel before I made a huge mistake, I walked out of the bar and headed for my truck that was parked up front. Hopping inside, I make the short drive home and I’m surprised to find a white car in the driveway.
Who the hell could be here this late?
Throwing the truck into park, I turn off the ignition and walk towards the front door.
Wes never had friends over, if he was with friends, he was never here with them.
As I open the front door, the sounds of the TV. playing in the background rattled in my ears. The minute my eyes peered around the door, all I could see was red. The truck keys slipped out of my hands and dropped onto the floor, and my head was already filling with deadly thoughts. Gripping the door, I slam it so hard the hinges might pop out, but at this point, I didn’t fucking care.
The blonde angel who’s been invading my every thought, was in my house.
Alone with my son.
And was kissing him with those fat lips I desperately tried not to fantasize about. It was a blow to the gut, a knife to my fucking heart, but worst, I began to feel the rage that I kept locked up inside me for years building up.
As soon as the door flung closed, they both dropped the kiss and spun their heads in my direction. While Wes appeared unbothered by my appearance, Becca’s face grew pale. Her ghostly eyes took me in cautiously, like she was making sure I was actually here.
Yah, it’s me O’Connor. I caught you.
I didn’t bother glancing over at my son. I wanted all my focus to be on her. I wanted her uncomfortable, nervous, and squirming on the couch as I glared holes into her head.
“What are you doing home already?” Wes speaks up as I feel a snarl work its way up my pipes, but I quickly suppress it.
Stripping off my jacket, I feel Becca’s eyes trace my every move but the tone in Wes’s voice has me clenching my fists.
“Get out, O’Connor.” I hiss through my teeth, but it comes out coolly. Becca flinches from my words as Wes scowls, ready to argue back.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He scoffs angrily. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Crossing my arms, I knew this was going to boil down to a fight and by the drop of Becca’s head, so did she.
“Go home, Becca.” I stare deep into the pits of her eyes, and she soon figures out that I wasn’t fucking around. As cruel as it sounded, I wanted her gone.
She rises up from the couch, but Wes quickly snatches her wrist. “Stay.” He pleads, giving her a frown that makes me want to hurt my own son. “What the fuck’s your problem?” He shouts in my direction, but I’m too concentrated on the grasp he has on Becca.
“It’s...It’s fine.” Becca mutters while pulling her arm out of his grip. “It’s getting late anyway.” She starts to scramble for her belongings and shoes, purposefully avoiding me at all costs.
“Becca, don’t go.” Wes stands up from the couch to try and stop her but she ignores his request.
Once her shoes are on her feet, she makes one last attempt to peer up at me. She’s stopped at the door, her hair is wild and her chest rises and falls as she tries to read me. Her eyebrows are dipped in confusion, but the hurt is evident in her somber eyes.
Her face wants to know why I’m doing this, but deep down, she already knows the answer.
“I’ll see you at school.” She directs her statement at Wes, but she keeps her gaze focused on me.
And with that, she rushes out of t
he door.
“Happy?” Wes announces behind me sarcastically, but I was anything but.
I was beyond furious.
How could I have missed this?
“What did I say about having people over when I’m not here?” I spun around, meeting the eyes of an enraged Wes.
“Are you serious?” He laughs. “I’m eighteen years old. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
“You’re still in high school.” I bark, matching his tone. “My house, my rules. No more girls over at this house…. no more Becca O’Connor.” I find myself saying as her name stings the inside of my mouth.
I didn’t want her here, especially alone with Wes. More importantly, I didn’t want what I saw to happen again. Their fused lips replay in my head, and I feel my blood begin to boil to a scorching temperature.
“You can go out and fuck whoever you want, but I can’t invite a friend over to hang out? What kind of ass backwards rules are those?” He takes a step towards me, and in that moment I’m reminded of my young self. His anger, hot temper and eristic demeanour. He was me twenty years ago.
“Watch your mouth.” I growl, fed up with his profanities. “What I do is none of your damn business. But my job is to be your father and as long as you live under my roof, you’ll follow my fucking rules.”
Wes’s head drops, focusing on the floor, but his clenched fists at his sides give me an inkling of the anger he’s holding back.
“Father?” He jokes under his breath before lifting his head. “You’ll never be my fucking father.”
His words cut like a knife, slicing through my already broken heart and delivering its final blow. I feel my foot stumble, and grab onto the wall to steady me.
I wasn’t the best father. Hell, I wasn’t even a good one. But for years, I tried. We fought, argued and it sometimes ended with a bloody nose, but I still hoped that one day he’d turn around.
“Your blood is my blood.” I snarl. “You will always be my son.”
His lips thin and his eyes glare at my statement. He knows I'm right, but the scowl across his face tells me he wishes it wasn’t true.
