Chapter 20 Bailey
Bailey
I couldn’t leave Wes’s house fast enough the other night. This seems to be our new routine and I’m not sure how I feel about it. We meet up, one of us comes, sometimes more than once. Then one of us leaves.
But we haven’t kissed.
And we haven’t had sex since that very first night when neither of us knew who the other one was.
It’s one of the weirder situations I’ve found myself in. My mind is a mess of wanting to give into him at any point, and wanting to run far far away.
Sutton and Jameson are still on their honeymoon, and it’s been a few days since I left Wes’s house after his “punishment.” I’d hardly say getting to have multiple orgasms is a bad thing, but I’m not about to tell him that.
I need to do something to distract myself that isn’t working or fighting for my life in the group chat with Sutton and Lily. You’d think Sutton would want to be left alone on her honeymoon, but Lily is clearly missing us, or missing Amity. Or has an extremely bad case of senioritis.
One of the things I discovered when I moved here was that the local bar does line dancing. At first I wasn’t sure about it. The thought of dancing in public was not appealing in the slightest. I would go, and watch once I dared step foot in the bar I met Wes in again.
I took Sutton there once, and it was certainly more fun to go with a friend.
But I still have a good time alone. It’s exactly what I need to get my mind off everything.
Brynn has continued to reach out, but even after I spoke to Brent briefly, for some reason I can’t bring myself to talk to my sister.
I know Brent wouldn’t tell her we talked. If he did I know she would say something to me about it.
I feel bad not talking to her, but she’s the one I want to protect the most, she always has been. As the two youngest in our family, there was a time when our older brothers weren’t around anymore. And I did what I could to protect her, no matter what it took from me.
I just wanted one of us to turn out okay.
It seems like she has. She’s successful, dating some hockey player on the same team as Brent. It doesn’t matter that I’ll never be okay, because she is. Which is why I can’t bring myself to reply. I refuse to drag her down with me. It’s best this way, even if she doesn’t understand it.
And this is precisely why I need the distraction.
Summer is turning into fall, the warm nights being replaced with cooler temperatures once the sun sets so I pull on some jeans, a loose shirt, and my comfiest ankle boots. I pull my long hair up in a ponytail, taking one last look in the mirror and sigh.
I’ve never thought of myself as beautiful.
There’re so many others that are prettier than me.
I’m tall, lanky, and the natural wave of my hair never cooperates.
The bags under my eyes have been there for as long as I can remember.
Scars have faded on my skin from the childhood I try to forget, but they will always remain.
And there’s nothing I can do about it. Sometimes I think about getting tattoos to cover them.
But I don’t want to.
I hate the scars. I hate where they came from, and hate what they represent from my past, but they show I survived.
And that’s what I try to remember.
The bar is packed. I forgot it’s a Saturday night, and it feels like every single person who lives in Amity is here making an appearance. The open floor is already in full swing with dancers, but I go to the bar first to get a drink.
The Jack and Diet Coke appears in front of me quickly, and I thank the bartender, making sure to tip well because I know how hard they work. I move to a spot out of the way to watch the dancers while I get at least one drink in me before I join.
I might be more comfortable dancing in public now, but I still need a little liquid courage to really let go.
After the first drink, the tension eases, and I’m loose enough to follow the steps without overthinking how ridiculous I might look.
It doesn’t take long before I’m laughing with others as we move, and my mind is able to push everything else away.
I’m not sure how long I dance until the music changes, signaling the end of the line dancing portion of the evening and the dance floor is open to everyone wanting to move to the upbeat music pumping through the speakers.
I go back to the bar for another drink, having danced the first one completely out of my system. Not that I should stay much longer, I don’t have to wake up early tomorrow, but there’s no point in staying out.
Unless I find a reason to. My eyes catch on an unfamiliar man on the other end of the bar. He’s handsome, light brown hair falls over his forehead, obvious dimples on his cheeks. He looks clean cut and nice.
The complete opposite of Wes, and maybe that’s the perfect distraction. To hook up with someone else. That’s a guaranteed way to forget for a little while. Maybe then I won’t be so tempted to fall into bed with my neighbor at the drop of a hat.
The man looks up, and notices me so I give him a soft smile. It’s enough to have him approaching me.
“Hey,” he greets, his voice is deep, but lacks the growl that sends a shot of electricity between my legs when a certain other man speaks to me.
“I don’t recognize you.” I tilt my head, trying to place him.
“You probably wouldn’t, I’m not from here.”
“Hm, I can tell.” I let my eyes roam over his frame. He’s about as tall as me and over dressed for this place, but I’m not going to fault him for that.
He chuckles, and again my body doesn’t react the way it does for someone else. “I’m Dale.”
“Bailey.”
“That’s pretty.” He smiles, and I hide my grimace. I don’t think my name is anything special, but sure if he wants to try and say that, I won’t argue.
Not the way I’ll argue with Wes over everything just to see what he’ll do.
“So, what’re you doing here since you clearly don’t belong?” I ask, taking another sip from my drink.
“Just passing through.” He shrugs.
I feel like there’s more than that, Amity isn’t exactly on the way to anywhere, but again, if that’s what he wants to try to say, then I’m not about to argue.
“I saw you dancing a little bit ago, would you want to do a little more with me?” he questions. I want to tell him how lame of a line that is, but I can’t bring myself to.
Instead, I agree and let him lead me back onto the dance floor while a song I don’t particularly like plays. I try to lose myself in the feel of him behind me. Bodies moving against each other, just trying to see if I’ll have any sort of reaction to him to spur me into going home with him.
I try, but nothing happens.
I’m about to give up, and tell him I’m going home for the night when another voice is behind me, this one deeper, rougher, and says one simple word, “Move.”
I expect an argument, I expect something. But as I start to turn, a large strong hand is grabbing my hip, and pulling me back into a oversized hard body. One that does have me reacting.
He leans down to speak into my ear; I can smell the whiskey on his breath as he speaks and even that has me ready to mount him right here. Which is a problem.
“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t want that asshole touching you,” Wes says lowly.
I turn my head, bringing our mouths closer together, but not touching. “You can pretend all you want, but I was planning on going home with him.”
I’m playing with fire, and I know it. But fuck I want it to burn me.
His hand tightens, and I let out a small squeak at the delicious pressure.
“Just when I thought you could be rewarded. You were right, you are no angel.”
I shake my head. “And I never will be. Especially for you.”
He spins me around suddenly, our chests colliding roughly and I huff at the contact.
Wes bands his arm around my back so I can’t go anywhere.
Our bodies are completely pressed together, not moving in the middle of the dance floor.
I’m sure we’re being stared at, but I can’t look away from his deep brown eyes.
“That’s fine, I don’t want you to be.”
I swallow roughly, the words getting caught in my throat. “What do you want me to be?” I whisper so low I’m not even sure if he heard me.
He pulls me closer against him, I can feel the hard planes of his chest against mine. I rest my hands on his pec, feeling the steady rise and fall with each breath he takes while we continue to stare into each other’s eyes.
Finally, he speaks and it’s the last thing I expected him to say. “I just want you to be Bailey Collee.”
I swear I misheard him, or something is in the air. A full moon. Something is wrong with him, with me. In no world did Wes Anderson just say those words to me.
Which can only mean one thing, and it’s that he doesn’t mean them. So I react like I always do with a scoff, and an eye roll as I try to push him away. “Yeah, right.”
He doesn’t let me go. Instead, he flexes his arms, holding me even tighter against him, unable to move or create any distance between us.
“You don’t believe me?” he asks darkly.
“Considering we don’t like each other, no I don’t believe you.”
“Who says I don’t like you?”
I try to detect the snark in his voice, any indication he’s fucking with me, but he’s completely deadpan. All while keeping me completely pressed against him. I curl my fingers into him, gripping his shirt as I shake my head.
“You don’t,” I protest weakly.
His hand slides up to the back of my neck, gripping me roughly, immobilizing me even more.
“I don’t usually make it a habit of doing the things we do with people I don’t like.”
“Really? I do it all the time,” I retort sarcastically.
“Is that why you were going to go home with that idiot wearing a fucking button down in a shit hole like this?”
“Maybe.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why does it matter to you?”
“Because I don’t share. And the second you didn’t say the safe word after we established it, you’ve been mine.”
I scoff again. “I don’t belong to anyone, especially not you.”
“I’m going to prove to you how wrong you really are.”
“Yeah? With another one of your little punishments? Do your worst, but you can’t stand here claiming you ‘like me’ when we’ve never even kissed.”
“That what you need, Angel? You need to be wined and dined? Kissed at the end of the night? Move slowly while we dance around the things we both really want?” He chuckles, but it’s lacking humor. “That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
“You don’t know me.”
I haven’t even realized how close our faces have gotten until this moment, lips barely an inch apart. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest at the way he’s looking at me. His words not even sinking in.
“If you want me to kiss you, then you’ll have to wait because the first time isn’t going to be in front of every eye in town. Especially because once I start, I know I’m not going to be able to stop.”
And just like the time in the shower, he separates us, letting me go and leaving me confused, needy, and pissed off.
He doesn’t even spare me a simple glance as he walks out of the bar. That’s when I notice every single person has their attention on me and my face flames; I drop my head, not ready to be at the center of town gossip.
By the time I race out of the bar, Wes is nowhere to be found. I drop my head back letting the cool air hit my skin, trying to let it wash away all the feelings hitting me at once because there’s no way any of that just happened.
Worst of all there’s no way I actually wanted it to.