Page 46 of Bad Kind of Love

Taking a hesitant step forward, my heart galloped in sync with my every footstep. The closer I got to the door, the more my hand began to twitch in anticipation. Mr. Fitz wasn’t home, Wes was still in the shower, and I was always known to be a curious person. More so now than ever.

Now stopped in front of the door, I stood with my arms at my sides. In every horror movie ever made, there’s always that creepy music playing right before someone opened the door to reveal what was on the other side. Either something was going to pop out, or they were going to see something they didn’t want to see. And right now, I felt like I was in my own horror movie. Only I wasn’t scared to look behind the door, I was anxious. Suddenly, I began to lift my hand, inches away from latching onto the door handle.

“If you're looking for the bathroom, that isn’t it.” I hear Wes’s voice behind me causing me to quickly drop my hand. Startled, I spin around to catch an amused Wes scrubbing his head with a towel.

“Shit.” I grab my chest. “You scared me.” I take in his outfit, athletic shorts and thankfully a shirt covering his chest.

Tossing the towel into his room, he slicks back some curls that fell over his forehead. “You're lucky I stopped you before you walked in there.” He teases. “Who knows what kind of shit you’d find in his room.”

A faint smile forms across my face as I drop my head relieved that I wasn’t caught snooping. The last thing I needed was for Wes to find out about my slight obsession with his father. “Yah.” I laugh. “Probably his murder kit or worse.”

Wes joins in laughing. “I’d bet far worse.” He shakes his head. “Come on, let's get away from his door. You might catch something standing that close to it.”

“Yah? Like what?” I frown on instinct, but immediately catch myself.

“My mom was a stripper.” He deadpans. “Who knows what other kinds of women he’s been with.”

The harsh blow to his mom caused my breathing to momentarily stop. He rarely speaks of his mother, and by his unreadable expression, I knew he meant every sour word.

“I’m hungry.” I change the subject and start walking towards him. He stands a little taller as I brush past him and head into the kitchen. Knowing he’d follow, I stop next to the center island and lean my back against it.

“What are you hungry for?” He stops next to the fridge crossing his large arms across his chest.

“Anything.” I chuckle and a small grin appears across his lips. “Didn’t you mention pizza at school?” I glance down at my tall socks that are covered in tiny little knives before meeting Wes’s gaze.

“Yeah, we can do that.” He notices the socks for the first time and chuckles. “If anyone could pull off ugly socks like those, it’d be you.”

My cheeks instantly flush, and I have the sudden urge to rip them off. “They're not ugly.” I defend. “They’re unique.”

Uncrossing his arms, he pushes off the fridge with a look of determination across his handsome face. “Unique.” He repeats as I tilt my chin. His bare feet stop in front of mine and I feel his minty breath fan across my face. “Unique like you.”

Gripping the edge of the counter, my eyes meet his and my heart beats wildly. His hungry gaze drops down to my lips, and for a second, my eyes flutter, waiting for his mouth to land on mine. Seconds turn into what feels like minutes and I open my eyes, to see a conflicted Wes gripping the counter next to my hand. His huffing chest is brushing against my breasts, as his eyes drop down to the ground.

He appeared torn as his hand clutched the counter to the point his knuckles turned white. My mouth opened, but no words came out as his rejection sank in.

“Don’t.” He whispers under his breath like he can already tell what I’m thinking. His head lifts and pins me down with a broken stare.

A part of me was hopeful that one day I’d be able to taste his lips, even if I was going to regret it. I wondered if he was as sweet and gentle at kissing as he was with everything else.

Would he take his time?

Would he slowly savor my lips like a fine wine or devour me whole?

Staring up at his mouth, I dropped my gaze knowing it was all wishful thinking. Pushing away from being caged in by his arms, I step into the living room.

“Becca.” He calls my name desperately. He must think I’m about to leave, but I surprise myself and him when I plop down onto the couch.

“It’s fine. We're friends, we’ll always be friends.” I reassure. His friendship meant everything, and risking it for a kiss would be ridiculous.

“Yah, always.” He scratches the back of his head with a frown. “I just….” He goes on to say but stops himself. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

Crossing my legs, I try to erase the almost kiss from my brain and focus on the all brick fireplace. “Anything with bacon.”

“Alright.” He sighs. “You can put on a movie or something while I call and order.”

Without turning around, I nod my head and immediately reach for the remote. Scrolling through the channels, I land on Sleepy Hollow and focus on the screen. Fully engaged in the movie, I don’t even notice when Wes takes the seat next to me and I hear his soft chuckles beside me.

Twisting my head, I find him laid back and resting his arm behind the couch. He’s sitting close, but not nearly as close as we just were minutes ago. “What’s so funny?” My eyebrows dip in confusion.

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