19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Wes

“You drive… that?” Disbelief oozes through Trip’s tone as I nod my head patiently. Unsurprisingly, her reaction is one I get often.

“Sure do. Lola’s a beauty isn’t she.” Trip’s astounded stare turns from our mode of transportation to me and back again.

“I can’t tell if the fact you named your car, or the name choice itself is more horrifying.” I run a hand along the side of my baby, gently stroking the peeling beige paint.

“Shh, don’t hurt her feelings. Lola’s hard enough to start at the best of times.” I yank open the passenger door, bits of rust falling off the old Ford 500.

Walking tentatively towards me, Trip mutters under her breath, “I’m surprised it starts at all.”

Choosing to ignore the barb, I gallantly bow and beckon towards the open door.

“Malady, your chariot awaits.” With one last look at the neon zip ties holding the bumper in place, Trip shakes her head and folds herself into the car. I smile and lean down to help her with the seatbelt. She hasn’t even seen the worst of it yet.

“The trick is to pull and release three times before pulling it across your body. May I?” At her nod, I stick my head in the door and give her seatbelt the appropriate number of tugs before pulling it across her waist and clicking it in place. Amused grey eyes follow my step-by-step process.

“Lola’s a bit… finicky I see.” Her too-full bottom lip tugs into a smirk and I find myself tracking the movement.

Want to know the fastest way to distract a guy? Move your lips. Sounds ridiculous but it’s the truth: when you bring attention to your lips, the guy you’re in the midst of wooing has no choice but tothink of those lips. I might even write about it in my psych paper due Monday. I even know what my title would be: Lips: The Oral Seduction of Man.

On second thought, maybe I’ll save that one for health class.

“I like my girls to have character, what can I say.” My words have the intended effect on Trip, and a mild blush warms her cheeks. Her tongue pokes out to skim her bottom lip, leaving the pale pink glistening with temptation.

Do you see what I mean? Hook, line, and sinker.

My lips crash onto hers and her yelp of surprise gets swallowed whole. Gripping the front of my shirt, Trip pulls me closer and deepens the kiss simultaneously. Our tongues tangle together as my hands cup her jaw, fingers stroking the flushed skin underneath.

“YO, GET A ROOM!” My head hits the roof as a car honks, rudely breaking our lip lock. I grin sheepishly at her, and carefully extract myself from her side of the car.

I rub my head as I walk around to the driver’s side and yank the rusted door open. Plopping myself down in the seat, I take a deep breath and immediately get hit by coconut vanilla shampoo. Shit. This is going to be a long ride.

Ignoring the semi already forming in my pants, I look at the passenger beside me and feel a spark of satisfaction at her equally glazed gaze.

“Are you ready for the ride of your life?” I turn the key and wait for the familiar battle of Lola turning over. The screeching sound fuels the soul as the engine cranks into gear.

Ah, that’s my girl.

“Show me what you’ve got.” a playful smile touches Trip’s swollen lips as I jerk the gear shifter into drive.

This is going to be a really longride.

We stutter to a grinding halt in the parking lot of Taber’s only shopping mall. Large and square, the hideous brown building is home to no more than fifteen stores. Five of which are fast-food chains that make up the cafeteria. You can always count on small towns to limit your number of options.

Casually yanking the parking brake into place, I go through the usual motions of making sure Lola won’t go for an unsupervised stroll: wiggling the gear shifter until I hear the click, turning my wheels so they face an empty stall, and giving Lola’s steering wheel a firm love pat. Sounds ridiculous, but trust me. The last time I didn’tfollow through on these steps, Lola found herself bumper-to-bumper with an F150. Hence the zip ties holding the front bumper in place.

“Welcome to Townhall, otherwise known as the shopping district of Taber.” My announcer voice is sold with the perfect cheesy grin combination. Trip unbuckles her seat belt – the material flailing wildly as it returns home – and leans forward to peer through the cracked windshield.

“It’s so… ugly.” I chuckle and lean back against Lola’s fabric seats. The lack of leather is not by choice, let me tell you.

“Wait until you see the inside.” Misty eyes flick to mine in alarm.

“The interior has a worse colour choice?” Her concern is not for nothing. Townhall somehow managed to find the exact shade of well, shit, and covered every inch of their shopping mall in it.

“Oh no, don’t worry. The interior has the samecolour scheme. But the inside florescent lighting does wonders for this particular shade of brown.” Trip starts to giggle, and the sound spreads warmth through my chest. On my list of favourite things, her laughter is right up there with her shampoo.

Trip turns to grab the door handle and I grab her arm to stop her. “I’ll get it. Lola’s a locked vault once we’re inside.” A single eyebrow raises in my direction.

“Are we trapped?”

Considering I just vacuumed those backseats, being locked in here wouldn’t be the worst situation. I have a few ideas on how we could pass time.

“Not as long as you know the combination.” Keeping my thoughts to myself, I throw her a wink and proceed to kick the inside of my door as hard as I can.

And this fellas, is why we don’t skip leg day.

A good two minutes of strenuous effort passes until finally the driver’s door swings open with an ear-splitting screech. I hop out of the car, freedom greeting me at long last, and scurry over to wretch the passenger side open.

“Well, you definitely cracked the safe.” Trip smirks up at me as she climbs out of the car.

I give her a modest shrug, “Lola can confirm my burglary skills are top of the line.”

“I can see that. And now I know why her frame is so bent out of shape.”

I gasp and rub my hands over Lola’s hood. “She doesn’t mean that, gorgeous. You’re amazing just the way you are.” Rolling her eyes, Trip nods towards the turd-coloured building.

“Come on, Bruno Mars. We’ve got an emergency to evade.”

Lou

Ugly. So ugly.

And this time the visual assault is not in reference to the unfortunate brown coloured walls surrounding me. Oh no. This time it’s the man in front of me who is burning my retinas to the point of no return. Want to know the worst part about the bright orange dress shirt causing permanent damage? The gigantic smile plastered on Wes’ face as he admires himself in the mirror.

“It will match my jersey perfectly!”

Correction: it will give the Taber Tiger mascot a run for his money.

“Or maybe we could find a black shirt to coordinate with the stripes?” My suggestion sounds desperate but it’s the best I’ve got without flat out insulting him. He turns from the dressing mirror, looking me dead in the eye.

“You don’t like it?” I gulp, trying to remember how much honesty it takes to break a friendship.

“It’s not that I don’t like it…” I trail off, biting back the H word. I know hate is a strong word but it’s the only one that appropriately describes my feelings towards this gaudy piece of clothing.

“But?” Wes’ eyes twinkle with mischief, the orange overpowering the green pigment in his irises. That in itself should be a crime.

“I just think a different colour might be more flattering.” Shopping has never been more excruciating. Is this what bridesmaids feel like?

“Hmm…” He turns back to the mirror, assessing the shirt from different angles. “If you don’t like it, you can just say so.” There’s a tease in his voice that has me narrowing my eyes.

“Is this a test?” The innocent look he shoots my way confirms it. Wes is a lot of things, but innocent is not one of them.

“Why would I be testing you?” Busted. I send a scowl his way and the smirk on his face grows into a full-fledged, dimpled smile.

“Not that I’m confirming this is a test, but if it were, maybe I just wanted to see how far your people pleasing tendencies stray.” He strikes a pose in the mirror; the orange assaulting people around the world.

“And given your natural kindness, I’m afraid we have strayed too far past acceptable.” His words ring with humour yet the sentiment behind them touches something deep inside me.

When Wes describes me, it’s as though I’ve always belonged; to him, to Taber, and to this moment.

I clear my throat to get rid of the emotion clogging it and give the dress shirt a final once over. “It’s horrible. Unless you plan on lighting it on fire as soon as we leave this building, I cannot allow you to walk out of here with it.”

Amusement flickers across Wes’ face as he gives me a mock salute. “Roger that, commander. Arson is not on today’s agenda.”

Clapping one hand over my eyes, I use the other to point towards the changerooms, “In that case, try on the next one. I can’t bear to look at that orange anymore.” Wes chuckles and retreats to his stall, drawing appreciative glances from the patrons mingling in the fitting rooms.

The fact he draws stares in such a hideous colour attests to some serious genetics. I catch one girl eyeing the curtain Wes ducked behind, so I quickly jump up from my stool and shuffle over to his curtain, making sure my body barricades the entrance. The blonde in question gives me the evil eye, and I try not to smirk in response.

I fail.

“Which one do you want me to try on next?” The clarity and shocking proximity of Wes’ voice startles me, and I topple, off-balance and headfirst into the dressing room.

Gravity takes its toll, and I plummet to the ground like an arrow. Right before I make nose-breaking impact, a pair of strong arms scoop me up and haul me back to my feet. My mind is slow to catch up, and the vision switch from pale vinyl flooring to hard planes of muscle has my head swimming.

So much for keeping intruders out.

I squeeze my eyes shut as a deep chuckle rumbles through the broad chest inches from my face. Peeking one eye open, my stomach goes into another free fall as my feet remain firmly planted on the ground.

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you’ve got to do is ask.” Wes’ teasing voice hums in my ear and I blush from the base of my neck to the tips of my ears.

The rookie standing before me is wearing nothing but a pair of navy boxers. That fit really well. A little too well.

Gulping, I run my gaze over the athletic body standing in front of me. I saw both Wes and Cody shirtless during their dance karaoke performance, but this is different. This time the six-pack leading into the narrow waist and muscular legs is within touching distance. Within licking distance.

One stumble later and I’m halfway to becoming a cannibal. Stella will be so proud.

“I am so sorry, there was this girl I thought might break in, so I thought if I guarded the curtain, it would scare her away but then you scared me…” My ramble trails off as Wes’ eyes take on a glint that can only be described as dangerous.

“EXCUSE ME!” A pitchy voice breaks through the thin curtain, causing Wes and I both to wince. “Only one person is allowed in a changeroom at a time. ONE PERSON.” Giving me a look that says he has been in this situation before, Wes throws the woman a thumbs up over the curtain.

“Just putting on clothes, ma’am! My friend here was just helping me with some buttons.” He quickly throws his t-shirt over his head and I bite back a sigh of disappointment as the material covers his lean frame. My eyes had just started to recover from the orange assault.

Tugging on his jeans, Wes grabs my hand. We exit the stall and find the blonde from earlier standing next to the elderly manager. Doesn’t take much to guess who ratted us out.

“I thought you needed help with buttons?” The girl (re: snitch) has the nerve to make one last comment as we head out the door. Wes and I both look down at his shirt, noticeably lacking buttons of any sort. Crap.

“I was helping him do up his jeans.” The words fly out of my mouth, shocking both the girl and me into silence. Choking back laughter, Wes throws a regal wave to our audience and tugs me out the door.

As soon as we’re out of sight, Wes drops my hand and bends over laughing. “The look on blondie’s face… God, Trip. You never fail to surprise me.”

I am still gobsmacked from my own outburst, but the awe in his tone pulls my lips into a smile.

Straightening himself up, Wes wipes imaginary tears from his eyes. “Although I have to admit, a part of me was scared shitless when you said that.”

Now there’s something I don’t hear every day. My eyebrows raise skeptically, “Oh?”

Wes shudders, “For a second there, I thought Stella had taken your place.”

I throw my head back and laugh, the sound resonating through the crowded mall.

“That would scare you shitless, wouldn’t it?” Still giggling, I turn to see Wes shaking his head vigorously.

“There is no shit left in my body at this point.”

I playfully bump his shoulder, “You did tell me I can be any version I want to be.”

“Mm, I did say that didn’t I?” He taps his chin in contemplation, “Do you want to know which version is my favourite?”

“The Lavishing Leather Pants was a good look for me, I’ll admit.” In hindsight, my roommate really pulled through on that costume. I still don’t know where she found those pants, let alone a pair in my size.

“Your legs looked sexy as hell that night, but that’s not it.” I tilt my head, looking curiously into the green eyes sparkling my way.

“What is your favourite version of me?”

“This one.” Confused, I look down at my typical baggy shirt and mom jean combo as Wes continues, “From the wicked rock concert t-shirts to your inability to carry normal amounts; my favourite version is the one where you’re unapologetically yourself.”

And just like that, Wes knocks down the rest of my defences

Looking for a good time. He doesn’t want a relationship. Remember what you promised Stella…

Conflicting thoughts swirl through my mind as my eyes scan his face for a jokester smile or a flirty wink, anything to divulge me of the delusion that Wes would ever want to be in a relationship with me.

It’s not probable, it’s not possible, it’s not…

“So, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come watch me play the opener Saturday?” My thoughts render speechless as time slows to a crawl.

What. Just. Happened.

Shifting uneasily at my abrupt silence, Wes nervously glances to the floor. “I mean, only if you wantto, you don’t have to by any means…”

“NO! I mean, yes. I mean, I would love to. Watch you play that is.” My voice sounds as flustered as my nerves feels right now. The double whammy is very much not appreciated.

Wes’ entire demeanour brightens, and he rubs his hands together in glee.

“Great! Oh, and my sister is also coming to watch so maybe you’ll get the chance to meet her. Now, what should we get for lunch?”

Not giving me a minute to process the tidal wave of information, Wes spins on his heel and heads towards the sad looking food court. Mind buzzing incoherently, I speechlessly follow.

Did he say I’m meeting hissister?