Chapter 18 #2
He leans in closer, resting his elbows on his knees, and gently cups his palms on the back of my knees. My legs go numb from the sensation, and my heart rate picks up.
“Maybe I should get a tattoo,” the words tumble from my mouth out of nowhere.
He smiles, and it’s carefree. It’s as if his couple of beers have loosened him up, and he’s finally just doing what he wants.
“Of what?”
“I’m not sure. Something small and cute,” I say shyly.
“Like you?” he responds, then winks.
I thought I got butterflies when he winked at me yesterday while playing with Delilah. Now, sitting this close and intimate, a swarm of them just took flight. I feel it all the way down to my toes.
“Yeah, exactly,” I smirk back, feigning confidence.
A laugh bubbles out of him. His smile is flirty and charming. It makes my stomach dip.
We continue talking, lost in our own little world. We talk about Delilah, his shop and how hard it was to start his business. He asks about my writing, and my parents. I talk about them fondly, instead of heartbroken for once.
We talk about anything and everything. The conversation flows so easily, and I laugh. A lot. As the night goes on, Wesley gets more forward with his touches. He cups the top of my calves with both hands, and traces circles now and then on the backs of my thighs.
I’m reenacting something funny Delilah said the other day, when I hear the nostalgic and unmistakable first chords of Mr. Brightside. Sophie and I whip our heads to one another and lock eyes as she stands abruptly.
“Let’s go!” she shouts over the music and points to the makeshift dance floor that always forms itself in front of the raised stage, for live music Sundays.
Wes rears his head back, confused by my sudden change of attention, then looks at Sophie in question as well. I take a chance, and lean in, kissing his cheek gingerly.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper into his ear.
That earns me a cheesy grin from him, as he grabs my hands, helping me to my feet.
“Have fun,” he says, chuckling.
I scurry over to Sophie who grips my hand, and pulls me roughly to the center of the relatively young crowd. They must be out of towners, or tourists. It’s that time of year that our small town gets busy.
We immediately start jumping and dancing.
Well, we’re half dancing, half acting out the song like we’re in the music video.
Especially when we both grip our throats for “Choking on your alibis.” The song ends, but we don’t leave the dance floor.
We dance for a few more songs, twirling each other around, in our own little bubble.
We’re having a blast and minding our own business, when I feel hands grip my hips from behind, and someone start to move against me while we’re dancing. Sophie looks over my shoulder and her eyes widen, then she winces. My body instinctively stiffens under the unfamiliar hands.
“Hey, gorgeous,” the unknown man says into my ear. His breath is hot, and reeks of whiskey. I get the urge to gag and I grab at his hands in an attempt to shove them off of me. He tightens his grip in protest, holding fast, making my heart start to race.
I start to panic, and begin to try and pry each of his slim fingers off of me.
“Hey, asshole!” Sophie yells over the music once she sees the look of horror on my face.
He whispers in my ear again, “Woah, chill. I’m just trying to–” his sentence is abruptly cut off, and the hands on my hips disappear.
I whirl around and see a very angry Wes holding a preppy looking blonde man by the back of his shirt. The guy is half Wes’s size, and looks like a boy compared to him. He can’t be that much taller than I am.
Fuck.
“Wes…” I warn him.
The crowd around us starts to part and I see Maverick mouth “Oh shit” from across the room, and start running over.
“Did you push him off you?” Wes asks me, cool as a fucking cucumber.
“Get the fuck off of me,” the tiny blonde man snarls. His legs flail and I realize Wes is actually holding him so only his toes can touch the ground.
Jesus Christ.
I nod at Wes. “Yes, but–”
“And he didn’t take the hint?” the incredibly handsome caveman asks. He asks so calmly, as though what he’s doing isn’t completely crazy—and if I must admit—a little impressive.
I shake my head. “No, but Wes-”
He doesn’t let me finish, only dips his chin once and turns, dragging the smaller man with him.
Maverick intercepts them and holds his hands up in an attempt to calm his brother.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it looks like Wes quickly explains the situation when he shakes the handsy guy’s entire body.
Maverick’s eyes narrow on the guy, and then steps out of Wes’s way, gesturing with his hand to continue.
Wes stomps toward the entrance of the bar and Maverick follows behind, until they vanish behind the giant wooden door.
Sophie and I stand stock still, staring at the door, totally dumbfounded by what just happened.
We turn to each other, and Sophie slaps a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stop the laugh that comes bubbling out.
The crowd starts returning to normal, and finally, we walk off of the dance floor.
“Oh my god,” Sophie gasps, laughing and wiping under her eyes, “He shook him like a ragdoll!”
“I don’t want Wes to do anything stupid on my behalf, I have to go out there,” I stammer, turning toward the door. I couldn’t forgive myself if he got hurt or god forbid, arrested because of this.
I begin to scoot around a table, but my steps are halted by Wes and Maverick already walking back into the bar. Maverick has a shit eating grin on his face, and Wes looks fucking pissed.
He finds me almost instantly, and starts toward me. I’m paralyzed by the fury I see on his face. I can’t move a muscle. Is he mad at me, or mad for me?
Well, I’m about to find out.
Wes maneuvers around the throng of people, and when he finally reaches me he shoves his right hand into his pocket, almost too quickly.
“You okay?” he asks sheepishly.
I eye him skeptically and cross my arms over my chest. “Yes, but you didn't have to do that. I had an eye gouge or a kick to the dick on the menu before you arrived,” I say as I turn my nose up.
He smirks at me. “I don’t doubt it.”
I look down to his right hand in his pocket. He sees, and does the same, then runs his left hand through his hair. His nervous tic. I grab his wrist and force his right hand out of his pocket, and examine his hand. His knuckles are a little swollen, and one of them is cut.
“Wesley Ford Cooper!” I scold loudly.
I hear snickering behind me, and I know it’s Lincoln and Beau at our table.
“Oh, darlin’ don’t be mad. He just roughed him up a little. Fucker should’ve kept his hands to himself. He’s not welcome here anymore,” Maverick interrupts from my side, and lays a hand on my shoulder.
Wes narrows his eyes on his brother, and then his hand resting on me. “Don’t call her Darlin’.”
I roll my eyes. For the love of god, what has gotten into this man?
Maverick throws his hands up. “Okay, you peed on her, territory marked. Jesus, Wes. You’ve never acted like this over a woman,” he laughs, and claps Wes on the back before heading to our table. Most likely to fill Lincoln, Beau, and Sophie in on what just happened outside.
“Okay, Rocky. Let’s go clean your hand”