Sparkling Hope, page 19
"Shut the fuck up, Charles."
Yet another reason to be angrier was that this fucking term paper is to turn in on Thursday, and I’ve done almost nothing yet.
I rubbed my hand over my chin and looked back at the bar as Landon stood up and took the drinks from the bartender. It boiled inside me as he put his fucking hand on Luna’s bare back and whispered something in her ear.
Landon must have said something funny because I heard her laugh. I wanted to be the one who made Luna laugh. Not this guy.
A lump formed in my throat at the feeling of Landon touching her. Jealousy spread through my body.
Landon was the one who made Luna laugh, not me.
I wanted to tell him to stop flirting with her. His hand was still on her back, and I couldn’t look at it any longer.
"Okay, that’s enough," I growled, and as I stood up, Carter held his hand in front of my chest.
"I don’t think that would be such a good idea."
The boys looked at Carter and me in confusion.
Lucy followed my gaze, which led to the three at the bar.
"You’re jealous," she said.
But so was I, and it bothered me.
"Who or what should I be jealous of?" I asked Lucy leaning her head against Trevor’s shoulder.
"Because you fucked up."
Carter snorts next to me.
"How would you know that?"
"Wes, I’m not stupid. I have eyes in my head."
Why did everyone, really everyone, have to be so incredibly demanding today?
I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the bench seat.
I gave one last look to Luna, who was biting into a lemon after taking a tequila shot with Landon and Aria.
I stared at the honey-colored liquid, watching the beer’s tiny bubbles tingle against the glass. Carter raised his hand and pointed four fingers toward the bartender, who nodded in our direction and filled four shot glasses with tequila.
I didn’t even feel like drinking anymore.
That crappy country music blasted throughout the bar, and as Carter got up to collect the shot glasses from the bar, I took the chance of the free bench.
I downed my beer and grabbed Brenda by the hand, pulling her out of the bench behind me.
"Weston," Lucy grabbed my wrist. "Don’t screw up," she continued.
"I already did."
I wanted to mess it up even more and screw up what I might have had to punish myself with.
"If you do this now, then yes," Lucy switched her gaze to the girl behind me.
Her shitty, oh-so-great, and helpful wisdom was getting on my nerves. With Brenda in tow, I disappeared into the long hallway where the guest bathroom doors were to be found.
We entered one of the bathrooms, and actually, I would want to fall directly over her, put her on the washstand, and let my tongue slide between her lips, but something prevented me from doing so. When I looked at her like that, I knew, even if I had screwed up, that this would be wrong. A small part didn’t want to accept, let alone give up.
I didn’t know the feelings Luna triggered, which scared me so much, but I could only deal with these feelings when I wasn’t doing this with Brenda.
She didn’t have that long, wavy dark brown hair.
She didn’t have those hazel eyes with so much emotion in them.
She didn’t have freckles spread across her nose.
She didn’t wear gold creoles, which she had in every size and shape.
She didn’t drink cocoa.
She would never look as good in my Jersey as Luna did.
She didn’t have white socks where red hearts were on them.
She would never trust me as much as Luna did.
She wasn’t Luna.
I realized all this too late, and now it was truly too late.
"Do you want a blow job?"
I glanced at the blonde, taking slow steps toward me and unbuttoning her blouse.
"No," before I could finish my sentence, someone grabbed me by my shoulder and turned me away from Brenda.
Before I could even really realize who was standing before me, I felt a fist on my jaw and a firm tug. I rubbed my jaw area and moved my lower jaw, which hurt.
I looked up and saw Carter shaking his hand.
"You’re such a fucking bastard."
He punched me again before I could help it. The taste of iron filled my mouth.
"Fuck you, Carter. Fuck you," I lashed out, and my fist met his nose before the next punch crashed against his jaw.
The girl who wanted to suck my dick slid past the wall as we brawled in the hallway and ran out to the bar.
"Carter, damn it, stop," I tried to dodge his punch because the last thing I wanted was to get into a fight.
Especially not with my best friend.
Carter didn’t know when to stop. Communication was exchanged for fists at his house.
"I’m not going to stop until you finally realize it," he pushed me against the wall and punched me again.
"I’m not going to fight, and I’m certainly not going to fight you."
He glared at me and hit me again, but not as hard as the other times before.
"What are you doing? Do you think fucking someone else is going to make the feelings you have for Luna go away? Fucking admit it, Wes."
"I fucked up, okay? I didn’t want to admit that I like Luna a lot and I had nothing with that girl. I couldn’t," I admitted.
Carter let go with a jerk, his nose dripping with blood, and I could still feel the bitter taste of iron in my mouth.
"You’re such a dumbass." He left the hallway and disappeared behind the door that separated the hallway and the bar.
I touched my lip with my fingers, which had blood on them. I stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
Carter had every reason to hit me, which I couldn’t blame him for because I knew he would do anything for his friends. He would stick his neck out for anything and do anything to make you feel better.
Carter came over late last summer when I was off work, like every week. I sat outside in the backyard because it had been so warm upstairs in my room. He had gotten into a fight with his father, and even though I knew Carter could dish it out pretty well, he took a lot of punishment that night.
He always downplayed his father’s behavior. It was not so bad, and his behavior was only because of the alcohol. He could not remember it tomorrow.
That evening I got to know my best friend from a different side.
We sat there, and he cried.
Carter cried.
He just sat there and cried silently.
The one who was usually so strong and confident. The one who always had something to say at any moment. But he was very calm, and while we sat there, the tears rolled down his face, and we drank one beer after the other.
We never talked about that night, and I never asked him about it, but I thought something had happened to our friendship that night in a good way.
Without talking, we bonded even more.
We both met in high school and hit it off right away.
When we had games, we were usually the familiar duo on the ice: number eleven and number thirteen. One would shoot the puck into the net, and the other would assist.
Since then, we promised each other we would do everything possible to play in the National Hockey League one day.
I walked out and stood in the middle of the bar.
Carter was back at the table, holding a cold pack in front of his nose. I glanced at him before staring in Luna’s direction, who was staring at me with wide, perplexed eyes.
Please, Luna, please stand up and say something. Just one more time.
She shook her head slowly and turned away from me again on the bar stool.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Luna
Weston left the bar after returning from the hallway with the guest bathrooms. It was obvious to anyone in the bar with eyes in their head that the two had a fight.
When Carter came out with a bloody nose, I thought he was pretty much cashing in, but then when I saw his red, swollen hand and Weston’s face shortly after, I wasn’t so sure. Weston’s lip was bleeding badly, and his jaw was swollen.
The blood from his lip had dripped onto his gray hoodie, and I would have loved to run after him.
I couldn’t leave that bar to chase after Weston without Aria pulling my hair. Carter handed the ice pack back to the bartender and thanked him.
I turned to him on the stool and looked at his blood-crusted nose. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I’m fine," he gently touched his nose.
My tongue burned to ask him what happened, why they were fighting, and how Weston was doing, but I forced myself not to ask him that.
"He’s an asshole, Luna. But just so you know, he’s never been as vulnerable as he is with you. He likes you, believe me."
I knew he was an asshole, but he hadn’t made it clear that he liked me.
But instead, the opposite.
What should I believe? I didn’t think anything as long as I didn’t hear these words from Weston himself.
I just wanted to go home and crawl into my bed.
"See you around," Carter walked back to the others and sat on the bench next to Henry.
Aria, Landon, and I were already in the mood to leave before Carter and Weston came out of the hallway with bloody noses and lips.
After we paid for our drinks and Aria said goodbye to Henry, we left the old building.
"Do you need a ride?" offered Aria after we had already said goodbye to Landon.
"No, it’s fine. I’ll call my Mom back" I held up my cell phone, and the screen showed my mother’s missed call.
"Let me know if anything happens," Aria said, and I nodded.
The cool November air settled on my skin in the form of goosebumps, and I buttoned my coat all the way down before dialing my mother’s number.
"Hey Luni, we finally reach each other. It’s been weeks."
"Mom, you’ve been out since Saturday."
"That’s almost the same. How are you?"
How was I doing? Good question.
Other than falling in love with Weston, telling him about Dad and the car accident, us making out in the hot tub, and having sex as a result? Good.
"Good. How’s Nebraska?"
Luckily, I wasn’t facing my mother. I was horrible at lying, even more, when I had to say it to the person’s face. She bought it from me. Maybe it was the tequila shots I had drunk over the evening.
"Sunny but pretty cool. I bought a coat here in Nebraska," she enthused.
I grinned.
Even though she had only been gone since Saturday, I missed her.
Since we’d been staying temporarily at the Sinclairs’, we’d barely had time to talk. I was happy that my mother had the chance to fly with Camila, but that also meant that we saw less of each other.
Mom told me about the guy she had met, gushed about the coat a few more times, and that she wanted to cook the pasta herself that she had eaten in a restaurant with Camila.
I would tell as much as she did, but I didn’t feel like it. I just enjoyed listening to her.
"I’ll be hearing you. Take care," she said.
"I will, Mom."
We said goodbye just in time as I ran up the driveway, and Weston’s Jeep was in the driveway.
My hand searched for the front door key in the side pocket of my coat, and when I felt the cool metal on my fingers, I pulled out the key ring and unlocked the door.
The phone call to my mother somehow calmed me down and reminded me that soon we would no longer live here but in our own four walls.
It was like earlier when I picked up the dress and boots, completely dark. I turned on the light and locked the door behind me. In my jacket and boots, I walked through the kitchen to the stairs, where I turned off the downstairs light at the top of the second floor.
I put my shoes back next to the closet and put the coat over the armchair before entering the bathroom.
I just wanted to go to bed, close my eyes and forget about the whole day. In the bathroom, there were towels with traces of blood on the vanity, and next to them was an open band-aid pack and a pair of scissors.
The urge grew in me to check on him and ask him how he was doing and if everything was okay after the fight with Carter.
I stared at the doorknob, which I would have to turn to see Weston.
I cautiously leaned my ear against the door, hoping to hear anything.
Nothing.
Knowing what I felt for him was strange, and I wished I could suppress my feelings for Weston the way I did before.
Suddenly the doorknob turned, and the door opened. Panicked and in shock, I took two steps back again, and my eyes gazed into his red-rimmed eyes.
My eyes wandered to his lip, which was swollen and looked pretty bad. His jaw was discolored green.
"I’ll clean that up in a minute. The Band-Aid just won’t hold."
Weston held up his hand, showing the folded-up Band-Aid.
He looked beat, and it bugged me that I felt so sorry for him, but the best thing for me to do would be to just leave the bathroom and not meddle in his affairs.
Something inside me wanted nothing more right now than to be hugged by him until I smelled like him.
"Can you help me?"
"Mhm," I nodded slowly, realizing that now I couldn’t keep my distance to him anymore.
"Sit down." Weston sat on the bathtub’s edge while I wet a washcloth and cut the band-aids to fit his wound.
Again, we were both in the bathroom, him sitting on the edge of the tub while I stood between his legs and doctored him up. The only difference was that a lot had happened between us since then. It was so stupid to help him, and I knew I was only hurting myself more.
With the washcloth, which I moistened under running warm water, I carefully stroked around the wound on his lip to wipe away the dried blood. I put my free hand on his cheek to do the same with the cut on his jaw.
We weren’t talking. Nothing was happening between us, but at the same time, so much was happening inside me.
My desire for Weston was growing by the second, and that hurt so much at the same time because I knew what I wanted, and that was not the same thing he wanted.
I pulled the protective foil off the band-aid and stuck it to the cut on his jaw.
I tried to focus on his injuries, not his eyes watching me. My body was reacting so much to his closeness, and I felt the tingle between my legs and the sting in my heart at the same time. I had to protect myself and create distance.
"Done," I mumbled and turned away immediately and put the band-aids and scissors in the drawer with the box where the medicine was inside.
When I turned around, he stood with his naked torso before me, and I felt the sink against my back.
"Luna," he whispered my name softly.
I won’t look at him and lose myself in his eyes again. I focused on the floor of the bathroom. Weston’s fingertips touched my arm. Goosebumps spread across my skin, and I took a deep breath.
My heart was racing like crazy.
He triggered so much in me.
Way too much, and I would let it happen again and again.
"Let it go. I get it."
My pulse was reaching high speed, and I would go into cardiac arrest here and now if he didn’t stop touching me. His hand moved from my arm to my back. Weston moved closer to me until his forehead rested against mine.
"I can’t get you out of my mind, Luna," he whispered, and I felt his alcohol-scented breath on my skin.
"Weston, I don’t want to hear any more of this," I interrupted him. Still looking down, I focused on something else, not those goddamn eyes.
"Listen to me." His deep voice clashed against my skin like a wall, leaving me with a shiver.
I looked at him in those deep dark brown eyes that shone like amber in the daylight.
Weston’s hand traveled down my back, and his fingertips on my skin made my blood boil in my veins. Weston found the ends of the ribbons that held the dress together.
I didn’t stop him, even though I really had to.
Because even if we had sex right here and now, it wouldn’t change the situation and would only hurt me more in retrospect.
He pulled on the ribbon, and I felt the straps on my back loosened. The tips of our noses touched, and he nudged mine with the end of his nose.
His other hand pulled my pelvis closer to him, and I felt his boner pressing against my pussy, which was far too sensitive to this touch.
Weston slowly wandered his fingertips over my back, loosening the crossed ties more and more. I would be screwed if I didn’t end this between us right now.
"Weston," I sighed, his name to protect myself from what was about to happen and the wounds it would leave on my heart.
This wasn’t a request because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. I want so much, so much from him. To look at his face in the morning and study every millimeter, I would never get bored.
But knowing that he won’t reciprocate all that I feel for him all at once is like someone trampling my heart.
To create distance, this closeness to him was definitely the wrong way to go.
I gasped out loud. "Weston, stop."
Immediately, he dropped his hands from my back and extinguished our physical closeness by stepping back.
"Listen, Luna."
"No, Weston, you listen to me now," I said hoarsely. Heat rose inside me.
Something in me was afraid to break something between me and him with those words, even though there never was.
For him, anyway.
"Don’t tell me you can’t get me out of your head when that’s not true. I get it. It was a one-time thing between us, so don’t play with me, Weston. Please don’t play with me," I whispered the last words.
My cheek was sore from the inside, so many times I chewed on it with my teeth to hide my trembling jaw and hide from him that I felt so weak in front of him.
He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away from him and ran back to my room, where tears rolled down my cheeks as soon as the door was closed.
