Chapter 9 – Chelsea
Taylor and I go to her house to shower and change, and then we head out with some other cheerleaders to pick up alcohol and snacks before driving to the lake house.
Soon the party’s rocking and I’ve forgotten all about my fight with my dad. It’s nice to just relax and bask in the fun of a new school year and a new cheerleading season.
Except for the fact that Wesley isn’t here. I try not to appear too anxious as I look at the door every time someone comes in, but it’s never him.
I wait until the party’s been going on for a couple hours until I start to give up hope. Maybe he’s just not that interested, after all.
“Waiting for Prince Charming?” Taylor asks me, and I glare at her.
“Very funny.”
“Here, drown your sorrows,” she says, handing me some kind of spiked punch concoction in a red Solo cup.
“What is this?” I ask, crinkling up my nose.
“Who knows?” she laughs. “Mandy made it.”
“Oh great.”
We both groan.
Mandy fancies herself a bartender because she’s hung out with them at the country club to which her parents belong. She’s been drinking and supposedly learning how to make cocktails and other mixed drinks since practically middle school.
Somehow Mandy can party all night but work hard all day: she always makes the dean’s list and she’s one of our most talented cheerleaders and by far the best gymnast, with great acrobatic moves I always make use of in our routines.
And it’s cool that she likes to tend bar before she gets too sloshed to stand up straight. But her drinks are always way too strong, like they’re straight out of some high school party that lasts way too long into adulthood.
Tonight, though, I don’t care. A little alcohol will do me good. Hopefully it will take my mind off of Wesley’s absence.
I down the drink and then Taylor heads to get us a refill, as Jeff Milton approaches me.
I do my best to return his warm smile. He’s been hitting on me since orientation of our freshman year, and he just can’t seem to take a hint. He’s an oversized defensive tackle, and completely not my type, although he’s nice enough. So nice, in fact, that he’s failed to notice that he’s been friend zoned, and continues to keep trying unsuccessfully to make us into more than that.
“How’s it going, Chelsea?” he asks, handing me another drink.
I start to protest that Taylor is already bringing me one, but I think better of that idea, and start sipping from this one, too.
Why not?
Tonight’s a lost cause and I’d better plan on getting drunk and playing beer pong or some other mindless activity to pass the time, without Wesley.
“Not bad, Jeff. How’s it going for you?”
“Great,” he says, nodding his large head up and down. “It’s nice to win a game for once.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, and he meets my cup with his, for a toast.
“I love your nails,” he compliments me, reaching out to touch the school color themed polish and glitter I’d had applied at my manicure with Taylor yesterday.
“Thanks,” I tell him, and as he’s practically holding my hand, inspecting my nails up close, I feel a strong arm encircle my waist, almost possessively.
I turn to my left to find Wesley Reynolds peering down at me with a happy grin on his face.
I can’t help but return the grin. My night just got a whole lot better.
Chapter 10 – Chelsea
Right after Wesley grins at me, he turns to Jeff with a snarl.
“Chelsea, let me get you a real drink,” he says, leading me away from Jeff, as if the two of them are mortal enemies.
“Well, hello there, Wesley,” I say, and happily follow him, much to Jeff’s obvious dismay.
Christian’s with him, and looks a bit annoyed.
“Where’s Taylor?” he asks.
“I don’t know but maybe you should go find her,” I tell him.
I want to be alone with Wesley, obviously.
“I know I’m a bit late, but you had to go slumming in the meantime?” Wesley asks, with a flirtatious glint in his eyes.
“Very funny,” I tell him. “Jeff and I are just old friends.”
“That’s what you think,” he says. “I saw the way he was pawing at you, desperate for any excuse to touch you.”
I laugh, secretly happy that he’s jealous, even though I know that Jeff has never stood a chance, even before Wesley transferred to Calton. And no one stands a chance now that Wesley’s here, although I’m not going to tell him that.
“Sorry we’re late,” Wesley says. “Christian got us lost on some crazy turn he thought was necessary but clearly wasn’t. It took us forever to find our way back to the main road.”
“Dude, not cool,” Christian protests. “Who’s the one who has lived here forever? Me. Whereas you just moved here, and had some hair-brained idea that you had some better way to find this place, so who’s fault is it that we got lost…?”
“No,” Wesley insists, shaking his head. “The only time I mentioned that maybe we were going the wrong way, we were definitely going the wrong way. Before that, I was happy to let you navigate, because you’re fucking right— I don’t know my way around these dark country roads.”
“Now, now boys, stop fighting,” I chide them. Then I call out “Taylor!”, as we approach the kitchen and I see her scanning the crowd with two Solo cups in her hand.
I’m happy to spot her and to break up the little tiff between Christian and Wesley. But I’m hoping she’ll entertain Christian so I can get some one on one time with Wesley.
As if reading my mind, she winks and says, “So look who finally made it!”
She hands the drink to me— now I’m double-fisting it— and takes Christian by the arm.
He looks all too eager to follow her. I wonder if Wesley and I have started something contagious. Maybe we’ve accidentally set up each of our friends together.
It’d be surprising, since neither of them have ever shown an interest in each other, and Christian tried to get with me last year. But stranger things have happened. And it would definitely be convenient.
“Let me show you the fine selection of drinks we have to offer,” I hear Taylor say to Wesley, just before they pass out of earshot. “Just make sure Mandy doesn’t make any of them.”
“Ha,” I laugh at my best friend’s humor, even though she isn’t here to hear it.
Then I pass my second drink to Wesley and say, “Take this. It sounds like you need it more than I do.”
He laughs and thanks me and then takes a drink.
“Christian was the first person to welcome me here, but he sure can be an insufferable jackass.”
I laugh so hard I nearly spit up my drink.
“That’s definitely one way to describe him,” I agree.
“I like the guy enough, but there’s something… off about him, maybe,” Wesley continues.
“How so?”
“I don’t know. It’s just weird that he’s being so nice to me.”
I laugh again and say, “Oh ye of little faith in humanity. How dare someone be nice to you, without you questioning their sanity?”
Wesley laughs too, and I like the way his whole face lights up in a big smile while he laughs. But then I consider the way that Christian came on pretty hot and heavy to me last year, and realize that there is something rather… intense… about him. Desperate, maybe. Possessive. Or something.
“In all seriousness, maybe Christian’s just lonely?” I suggest to Wesley, not wanting to fill him in on my own personal knowledge.
I’m pretty sure Christian hadn’t mentioned it to Wesley, and I’m sure all parties involved would rather let the past stay in the past.
“I guess,” says Wesley, with a shrug. “But I’m not thinking about Christian anymore right now.”
He’s staring down at me, his brown eyes melting mine, and I love the way he talks to me. I’m ready to let him do a lot more than talk to me.