Chapter 20 Wesley
Wesley
We’re standing between our homes, still hand in hand. “I should probably shower,” she says, and whilst I agree, I can’t seem to let her hand go.
“The day’s not over yet, though,” I say, dropping a kiss on the side of her cheek.
I still want to get this right, dates, dinner and getting to know each other, besides wanting to desperately take her to my bedroom and show her how much I fucking want her.
After today, I know the second I’m inside of her, I’ll be lucky if I last. My cock stirs at the thought, forcing me to think of anything to keep him under control.
Frank’s cigarette hanging from his lips, my work boots after a long, hot day. There’s a reason they live outside.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower too,” I say, my hand swipes the back of my neck, I can smell myself. “I’ll come over once I’m done.” I reluctantly let go of her hand.
“I don’t suppose you could help build my bed frame?
” she asks. I like that she feels comfortable asking for my help, it makes me feel wanted.
I lean down and bury my head in the crook of her shoulder because I can’t get enough of her.
“I can do that,” I whisper, breathing in her sweet, musky scent, the hint of her pleasure still evident.
I kiss her cheek and try my hardest to walk away casually, without looking like a loser who’s crazy for this girl.
My hand rests on the door handle when she calls out to me.
“Wesley?” I spin on a heel, taking in her beauty. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thanks for today.” She offers me a little wave. “It ain’t over yet.” I throw her a wink and make my way inside.
The smile on my face aches from a great day, and nothing will put a downer on the rest of the day and hopefully the evening I have planned with Shannon.
Kicking off my boots and skimming through the mail, stopping at the official letter from Megan’s solicitor. My fingers start to peel the envelope, but I can’t bring myself to read it, not after today. I want to keep this smile on my face for a little longer.
“Fuck you.” I slap the envelope down and stomp off towards the bathroom.
It takes me all of ten minutes to finish my shower and throw on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt. Pulling out the steaks from the fridge, I chuck them down on the kitchen side, hoping Shannon might join me for dinner later.
She already knows I can’t cook, but throwing a steak on a BBQ isn’t rocket science.
Grabbing my little tool kit, I head over to her place, the door left ajar just like she said in her text, ‘walk in when you get here’.
Looking around among the mass of unpacked boxes, a few open like she’s tried to make a start but soon got fed up. Shannon’s messy and strangely it brings a smile to my face. It reminds me of my parents’ place when I first moved in, lived in, cluttered but always clean.
Megan hated anything out of place.
She was all about order, everything had to have its place, tins lined up neatly in the cupboard, all the labels facing forward.
I imagine if Shannon had bothered to buy any shopping, it would be tossed in the cupboards like a lucky dip.
She’s unpredictable and a little chaotic.
And it makes me want to dive straight in with her.
I stop short when I notice the space where the heavy box holding the bed frame has been moved, and a wave of annoyance rolls over me at the thought of her struggling with it alone.
Storming down the hallway, ready to give her a hard time, but I’m caught off guard when I see her.
The mattress, propped up against the wall, the box for the frame already ripped open.
Shannon sits there on her knees, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, eyes scanning the instructions, eyebrows pulled together, like she's trying to solve a puzzle.
She was going to start without me? I Lean against the door frame, bending slightly to get a better look at what she’s holding in her other hand.
What the fuck? Is she serious right now?
The butter knife gripped between her fingers says it all.
“Why?” I ask, nodding towards the offending object. She looks up, cheeks flushed, frustration written all over her face.
“It’s a fucking bedframe!” She shakes her head. “Do you know how many screws this thing has got?” Not really a question, but I let her carry on. “One hundred and twenty.” I bite down on a laugh, trying to crawl its way up my throat. Then she slaps down the instructions with a dramatic sigh.
“A hundred and twenty bloody screws, Wesley and I can’t even get one.” She pauses, hand flying to her mouth as she realises what she’s just said. The same cute blush covers her cheeks. I think to myself, ‘I’d happily give her one hundred and twenty screws… and then some.’
“And you were going to screw them all in with a butter knife?” I click my tongue, grinning as Shannon glances down at it. I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears.
“I… I don’t have a screwdriver,” she whispers. I tap the small bag clipped to my waist, pushing off the doorframe, ducking my head slightly. Her eyes blow out. “Oh my God… you’re a nerd?”
I jerk back. “Excuse me?”
Shannon giggles, not even trying to hide it.
“You carry a little tool kit attached to your hip?” she says, continuing to tease me, then looks into my eyes with her soft smile.
“But it suits you… I think it’s kind of sexy.
” I can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Wanting to tease her more, I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my glasses, perching them on my nose.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She scrunches up her face. “I bloody knew it.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “What did you know?” I ask.
“You in glasses….” She phwoars. “I don’t think anyone has ever phwoard me before.”
“Now that I don’t believe.” She scoffs, looking back down at the instructions.
“Pass it to me,” she says, reaching out with grabby hands.
There’s nothing particularly exciting in the kit, but I unclip it from my waist and toss it over.
Typical Shannon tips the contents in a heap on the floor.
Screws, nails, a couple of screwdrivers, the mini hammer… And then to my absolute fucking horror—
“A condom?” she blurts out, holding it up like an old artifact. Who's the nerd now? “I hate to say this,” she adds, inspecting it like a science project. “But we won’t be using this.”
I wasn’t exactly planning too, well, not today anyway. Still, I can’t help but feel a little bit wounded. “I wasn’t expecting to.” Trying to play it down cool, even if her words sting more than they should.
Shannon frowns. “Wesley, it’s two years out of date.” She looks horrified.
I shrug. “Doesn’t surprise me.” She studies me. “How long’s it been?” she murmurs.
I’ve nothing to lose by telling her the truth.
“Three… maybe four years,” I admit. Maybe she didn’t believe me earlier when I told her it had been a long time.
She tosses the condom into a small rubbish pile behind her, subject closed, glad we can move on from it.
I wasn’t embarrassed, I haven’t been with anyone in so long…
until I turned up here with a mini fucking tool kit strapped to my waist, she already thinks I’m a nerd, and then coming in my fucking jeans.
Internally, I tell myself I’ll have plenty of time to show her I’m more than capable.
I’ll look forward to every minute of it, let’s just hope it lasts longer.
One thing I'm sure of, my tongue won’t let me down.
“How about we make a bet?” I say, in a swift act of moving the conversation on.
“I’m listening,” she says. The glint in her eyes tells me she’s already gearing up to win, despite not knowing what we’re betting on.
“Your butter knife against my screwdriver.” I grin, dropping to my knees in front of the bed frame. “And I’ll even give you a five-minute head start.”
She narrows her eyes. “What are we betting for?”
The look she gives me? She thinks it’s going to be something dirty, there are plenty of things I could lay down for a bet, but I’m going to let her decide.
“Whatever you want… if you win.” I challenge her. “That… is.”
“If I win, then you can cook me dinner.”
I’d already had her down for dinner tonight, so it’s easy. “Deal.”
“And what do you want if you win, Mr Parker?”
I raise a brow, thinking this could go one of two ways. “Come and see me at work tomorrow and surprise me with something.” It doesn’t take much for her to put a smile on my face, but I know by tomorrow lunchtime I’ll be climbing the walls, ready to see her.
“Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll even bring you lunch.” We meet in the middle, hands outstretched, shaking on it.
“Are you serious?” Shannon spits out, shaking the bed frame like it’s personally offended her. A few of my screws clatter to the floor, but I’ve already got over half my side done.
In other news, Shannon’s got six screws jammed in at wonky angles… her butter knife can’t screw shit. I make a mental note to tighten the ones she’s already attempted to screw in; I’d hate my girl to get hurt.
My girl, I’m whipped.
“You said you had a screwdriver, Wesley?” I hold up my mini rechargeable one, fighting to hide the smirk on my face. While she sits there accusing me of cheating in a game she knows she’s already lost, it’s already a win, win situation for her. Dinner is already on the cards.
“What?” I say, shrugging again. “It’s a screwdriver, sweetheart.” Shannon huffs, I can’t help but laugh.
“I’ll give you screwdriver.”
I raise a brow. “Is that a promise?” If I were to count how many times Shannon’s blushed today, I’d have lost track an hour ago.