Chapter 2
Wes
I don’t like big group settings. Especially when I don’t know very many people.
Though, this isn’t exactly a big group, I still feel uncomfortable only knowing Jameson.
He’s cool, nice even. I kind of know his fiancé, Sutton, but I tend to try not to go out of my way to talk to very many people. I prefer keeping to myself.
Then there’s Bailey.
My neighbor, who I fucked years ago and have yet to forget about. It would’ve been nice to keep that up, but I knew it would be a bad idea. Feelings could get involved and then it’s awkward. I don’t do commitments, so instead I just pretended like it never happened.
And made her hate me.
To be fair, that wasn’t exactly my intention, I was just going to pretend like I didn’t know her to avoid the awkwardness. But ever since then, it seems as though everything I do pisses her off. And when she and I get into it, I can actually feel something, so I continue to do it.
Like right now, at Jameson and Sutton’s house, I didn’t help her even though I could tell she was struggling to carry everything. She’s made it a point to ignore me, focusing all her attention on her friends: Sutton and I think the younger girl is named Lily.
I lean against a wall because I refuse to have my back open. Even if I’m in a place that’s supposed to be safe, nothing ever feels safe enough. Even my own house doesn’t feel secure enough at times.
Across the room, Jameson is talking to his friends, who coincidentally work at the fire station with him.
There’s a younger guy named Parker, an older guy named Dave, and a woman named Jo.
I watch all of them as they’re talking, and notice the way Parker keeps looking over at Lily.
How Jameson finds any excuse to touch Sutton.
And the glares Bailey sends in my direction.
Those make me smile, and I try to hide it behind the beer I bring to my lips.
“What about you, Wes?” Jameson asks, and while I’m always aware of my surroundings, I’m not always aware of the conversations happening around me because I’m so focused on what is happening.
“What about me?” I ask nonchalantly.
“Any plans for the rest of the summer?”
I shake my head. “Just your wedding.”
“You guys are boring,” Parker scoffs.
“Not all of us are twenty-one and stupid,” Jo mumbles.
“I’m twenty-two in a week. God forbid I do something to celebrate my birthday,” Parker argues.
I finish off my beer and debate getting another one but decide against it since I should head home soon.
I’m starting to feel suffocated in the small space with all these people around.
My eyes catch on Bailey, noting how she has her arm around her body, holding her opposite elbow, a tight expression on her face and somehow I can tell she’s feeling something similar to me.
Though, she would probably rather gnaw off a limb than admit that.
“I think I’m going to take off,” I announce, loud enough I’m sure she can hear me.
“You sure?” Jameson questions.
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” I’m not. I can barely sleep most days.
“Alright, thanks for your help today.”
“All good. I’ll be by tomorrow,” I tell him. We both know I come by to help with the horses, but I don’t ever talk about why.
Because talking about why would lead to questions and I don’t want those. I can’t even admit to myself the things going on in my mind. The nightmares remind me enough, which is why I avoid them by avoiding as much sleep as I can.
It’s fucked up, but it’s how it has to be.
I walk outside and over to my Aston Martin DB11, I parked it where I usually do when I come down here and away from the horses so I don’t scare them when the engine roars to life.
Though, the distance doesn’t seem to matter because I still feel my phone signal a text before I’m off the property and I smirk when I look at the screen.
Bailey: You don’t have to announce yourself with that stupid car every chance you get, you know?
Wes: I don’t? How else would I make sure you know my every move?
I toss my phone onto my passenger seat and pull out onto the main road, letting the car take off underneath me.
I’m finally able to breathe out fully as I lay on the throttle.
This is what driving does for me—it’s the best therapy.
I had to do quite a bit after I got out of the Army, but still, nothing beats the way I feel when I’m out on the open road with no end in sight, no time limits, just me and the car.
That’s why when I can’t sleep, I take a drive. But Bailey seems to have superhuman hearing and she gets frustrated hearing my car in the middle of the night or in the early morning hours. I try to keep it down, but I like nice cars, sue me.
I don’t go directly home; it’s not like there’s anything or anyone waiting for me there. Instead, I take my time driving through the forested roads that I know like the back of my hand. I don’t even pay attention to the time, I just turn up the music and drive.
When I finally get back to my house, I feel like I might be tired enough to get a couple hours of sleep. Bailey’s car is in her driveway, and I find myself wondering how long she’s been back.
I get inside, and go directly to my room because if I get caught up doing anything else I know any chance I have to actually go to sleep will slip through my fingers. Though, that’s exactly what happens when I see the light on in the window across from mine.
The window that I know leads to Bailey’s bedroom.
Her curtains are drawn so I can’t see in. But since I know she’s not sleeping, I pat my pockets for my phone, pulling it out to tease her just a little bit more.
Wes: Can’t sleep? I know something that can help with that.
Bailey: Listening to you talk? Because I can’t think of anything more boring.
Wes: One day you’re going to eat your words.
Bailey: I’m so scared.
I can practically hear her monotone voice say the three words, and yet it makes me smile. She’s not scared, she likes it. One day maybe both of us will get to learn just how much.
I can still see that tattoo on her ass, the image of her face down on that hotel bed, her ass on display for me. How it felt in my hands and those two words inked into it.
Bite me.
Fuck, I wanted to.
And her mouth challenging me, we both know the type she is. It’s exactly the same type I like to handle into submission. The type that likes to be put there, right where I want her.
Shit, now I’m hard just thinking about the possibilities with her if we would just give in. I look over at her window, the curtains still drawn, and then back down to my phone.
Wes: I’ll come over and see just how true that is.
I watch for any movement, hoping she’ll tug the curtains aside, open the window and yell at me. Because at least when we’re arguing back and forth, I feel something.
The curtains sway and she peeks out, clearly trying to be subtle about it. I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. She disappears from my view immediately knowing she’s been caught.
I wait to see if my phone will light up again, but it doesn’t. Oh well, probably for the best anyway. Though, when I try to go to bed, sleep eludes me, always staying just out of reach.