“Oh God,” I muttered as Toby and I made a frantic effort to untangle ourselves. He scrambled off my bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor, his face glowing scarlet. I reached down and picked up my T-shirt. “Wesley, how did you get in here?” I demanded.
“The door was unlocked,” he said. “You didn’t answer when I knocked….
Now I can see why.” His dark gray eyes were big with what I could only guess was shock, dissolving quickly into disgust, and they stared directly at Toby.
Why was he shocked?
Because he didn’t think anyone else would fool around with the Duff? “But what are you doing here?” I asked, feeling a sudden surge of anger
rush through my veins. I yanked my T-shirt over my head and stood up. “You weren’t answering your phone,” Wesley muttered. “I was worried,
but it looks like you’re just fine.” He glared at Toby for a moment before looking back at me. “My mistake.”
Now he was the one who looked angry. Angry and hurt.
I didn’t get it.
I looked over at Toby. His shirt was on and buttoned, and he was staring awkwardly at his feet. “Hey,” I said. He looked up at me. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
He nodded.
I pushed Wesley into the hallway with one hand and shut my bedroom door behind me with the other. “God, Wesley,” I hissed, irritated as I ushered him down the stairs. “I always knew you were a perv, but watching me?
That’s a whole new level of creepy.”
I assumed he’d say something to that. Something arrogant and cocky. Or maybe just tease me, the way he always did. But he just stared at me, a serious expression on his face. Not at all what I’d expected from Wesley.
Silence.
“So,” he said at last. “You and Tucker are together now?” “Yes,” I answered uneasily. “We are.”
“When did that happen?”
“Last week… not that it’s any of your business.” Another jab. Another attempt to make this conversation normal.
But he didn’t take the bait. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded so awkward. So different from the smooth, confident Wesley I was used to.
Another uncomfortable silence. “Why are you here, Wesley?”
“I told you,” he said. “I got worried. You’ve been avoiding me for the past week at school, and when I called you today, you didn’t answer. I thought something might have happened with your dad. So I came to make sure you were okay.”
I bit my lower lip, a wave of guilt washing over me. “That’s sweet,” I murmured. “But I’m fine. Dad apologized for the other night, and he’s going to AA meetings now, so…”
“So you weren’t going to tell me?” “Why would I?”
“Because I care!” Wesley yelled. His words crashed into me, stunning me for a second. “I’ve been worried about you since you left my house a week ago! You didn’t even say why you left, Bianca. What was I supposed to do? Just assume you would be all right?”
“God,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“I’m worrying about you, and you’re fucking that pretentious little—!” “Hey!” I shouted. “Don’t bring Toby into this.”
“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Don’t lie,” Wesley said. “You’ve been doing everything you can to stay away from me. You won’t even look at me in class, and you practically sprint down the hallway if you see me coming. Even when you hated me, you didn’t act like that. You might threaten to stab me, but you never—”
“I still hate you,” I snarled up at him. “You’re infuriating! You act like I owe you something. I’m sorry I made you worry, Wesley, but I just can’t be around you anymore. You helped me escape from my problems for a while, and I appreciate that, but I have to face reality. I can’t keep running away.”
“But that is exactly what you’re doing right now,” Wesley hissed. “You’re running away.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend, Bianca,” he said. “You’re smarter than that, and so am I. I finally figured out what you meant when you left. You said you were like Hester. I get it now. The first time you came to my house, when we wrote that paper, you said Hester was trying to escape. But everything caught up with Hester in the end, didn’t it? Well, something finally caught up with you, but
you’re just running away again. Only, he”—Wesley pointed to my bedroom door—“is your escape this time.” He took a step toward me, forcing me to crane my neck even more to see his face. “Admit it, Duffy.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re running away from me,” he said. “You realized you’re in love with me and you bailed because it scared the shit out of you.”
I scoffed as if it were ridiculous—wishing it were ridiculous—and rolled my eyes, stepping back to show he couldn’t intimidate me, that he wasn’t right. “Oh my God. Get over yourself. You’re so fucking dramatic, Wesley. This isn’t a damn soap opera.”
“You know it’s true.”
“Even if it is,” I cried, “what does it matter? You could sleep with anybody, Wesley. So what if I walk away? So what if I have feelings for you? I was just a screw to you! You would never actually commit to me. You could never commit to anyone, but especially not to Duffy. You don’t even find me attractive.”
“Bullshit,” he growled, his eyes on my face as he moved closer to me again.
He was so close. My back was pressed to the wall, and Wesley stood only inches away. It had only been a week, but it felt like ages since we’d been in this kind of proximity. A shiver ran up my spine as I remembered the way his hands felt on me. The way he’d always made me feel wanted, even if he had called me the Duff. Did he? Did he find me attractive despite the nickname? How? Why?
“Then why would you call me that?” I whispered. “Do you know how much it hurts? Every time you call me Duffy, do you know how shitty it makes me feel?”
Wesley looked surprised. “What?”
“Every time you call me that,” I said, “you’re telling me how little you think of me. How ugly I am. God, how can you possibly find me attractive when you put me down all the time.” I hissed the last words through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t—” His eyes fell, staring at his shoes for a moment. I could tell he felt guilty. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” He looked into my eyes again. “I didn’t mean
—” His hand reached out to touch me.
“Don’t,” I snapped, shrugging away from him. I slid to the side and stepped away from the wall. I wasn’t going to be cornered. I wasn’t going to let him have the power here. “Just stop, Wesley.”
It didn’t matter if some part of him found me attractive. That didn’t change things. I was just another girl he’d slept with. One among many.
“I didn’t mean anything to you,” I told him.
“Then why am I here?” he demanded, turning to face me again. “Why the hell am I here, Bianca?”
I glared up at his hardened face. “I’ll tell you why. Your parents leave you by yourself, so you fill your life with meaningless flings. With girls you’ll never have anything serious with—girls who practically worship you—so that they don’t abandon you. The only reason you’re here is because you can’t take the thought that someone else walked away from you. Your sensitive ego can’t handle that, and it’s easier to make me miss you than to make your parents come home.”
He was speechless, just staring at me with his jaw visibly clenching for a few seconds.
“Did I hit the mark, Wesley?” I spat. “Do I get you as well as you think you get me?”
He glared at me for a few minutes—long minutes—before stepping back. “Fine,” he muttered. “If that’s how you want it, I’ll go.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You should.”
He turned and stormed out of the house. I heard the front door slam, and I knew he was gone. For good. I took a few deep, slow breaths to clear my head and walked back up to my bedroom, where Toby waited for me.
“Hey,” I sighed, sitting down on the bed beside him. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“What happened?” he asked. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but there was a lot of yelling. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s a long, complicated story.”
“Well, if you ever want to talk about it”—Toby adjusted his glasses and gave me a nervous smile—“I’ve got the time to listen.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m okay. Everyone has dirty laundry, right?” Well, everyone except you, Toby.
“Right,” he agreed. He leaned over and kissed me gently. “Sorry we were interrupted earlier.”
“Me, too.”
He pressed his lips to mine again, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I just kept thinking of Wesley. He had looked so hurt. But that’s what I had wanted when I left him, just a little, wasn’t it? For him to miss me? I tried to push it down, wanting so badly to lose myself in Toby’s arms. But I couldn’t.
Not the way I’d been able to lose myself with Wesley.
I pulled away, disgusted with myself. How could I think of Wesley when I was kissing a guy like Toby Tucker? What was the matter with me?
“Is something wrong?” Toby asked.
“It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just… we should probably start doing research for our editorials.”
“You’re right.” He didn’t seem irritated or offended or dejected at all.
Perfect manners. A perfect smile. The perfect boy.
So why wasn’t I perfectly happy?
