Page 14 of Wasted Memories
Chapter Five
Wesley
Iwasdrivinghomefrom a late shift at work when I looked out my driver side window and spotted a bonfire on the beach. Checking my dash, the temperature gauge read forty three degrees. Whoever was out there was out of their goddamn mind.
I looked both ways at the four way stop sign when my eyes caught on someone waving some kind of light in the air like they needed help. Squinting my eyes to get a better look, I saw that it was a sparkler.
Whoever it was faced my truck, waving me down. I turned into the lot and parked, killing the lights before I got out.
“Hey, you!” the woman yelled. I heard music coming from the direction of the bonfire as I made my way over to her.
It was fucking hard to walk in sand with boots on.
As soon as I reached her on the beach, her sparkler fizzled out. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention.” She bent over with her hands on her knees, presumably out of breath from acting like a bat out of hell.
“Everything okay?” I asked. From the way she flagged me down, I would’ve thought the damn sand caught fire.
“Having the time of our lives. Thanks for asking.” Her speech was slightly slurred as she spoke. “You can join, unless you’re a party pooper.” She poked me straight in the chest. Was that necessary?
I recognized her, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her before.
“Not really my scene, but thanks for the invite. Y’all be careful out here.” I turned to leave but paused when I saw who was near the water.
Emerson was spinning in circles with her eyes closed, a sparkler in each hand and a beer propped in the sand near her. She looked peaceful, like nothing could ruin the trance she seemed to be in.
“Name’s Stella.” I saw her hold her hand out from the corner of my eye. “I’d introduce you to Em, but it looks like you two already met.” She followed my line of sight to Emerson.
Turning back to her, I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Stella.”
“And your name is..?”
“Wesley.”
“Well, Wesley, care to stay now?” A smirk bloomed on her face as she wagged her eyebrows at me.
“No. Get home safe.” I nodded once at her, keeping my expression blank, and headed back to my truck. Halfway there, I heard a scream behind me that stopped me in my tracks. I quickly spun around to see Emerson now lying flat on the beach, a lit sparkler in one hand, a beer in the other.
Stella was looking back and forth between me and Emerson, clearly waiting for me to decide to stay.
I could stay and make sure none of them decided to drive this inebriated, or I could leave and sit in my basically empty house thinking about shit I didn’t want to think about. Neither of those options sounded ideal, but I couldn’t leave in good conscience. Choosing the former, I made my way to Emerson.
She was laughing to herself when I appeared next to her, her sweatshirt covered in something wet. The amber light lit her features, her eyes illuminated by the reflection on the sparkler.
She looked up at me with a pouty lower lip, trying to hide her giggles as she pulled on her sweatshirt where the stain was. Her laugh would’ve been contagious had I not been so concerned. She was laying on wet sand and it was fucking freezing out.
“I spilled,” she slurred. Her first sparkler must've died out, and the other wasn't too far behind.
If it was anyone else, I would’ve thought they looked like an idiot, but from where I stood over her, with the sparkler and the moon the only source of light, she was captivating.
“I’m all wet now,” she pouted. I raised an eyebrow, which elicited a glob of wet sand being thrown at my leg. “Not like that! My sweatshirt.”
I held out a hand to help her up. She reached up and grabbed it, her fingers like ice cubes. She put no effort into standing up, but she was so light it didn’t take much to lift her.
“You must be having the time of your life,” I said as I let go of her dainty hand.
“I never get to be the careless drunk.” Was she talking about herself? She made a small gasp and covered her mouth with her wrist, her hand still gripped around the beer, her blue eyes wide. With her wrist still over her mouth, she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Lowering her arm, she continued, “I just mean that I’m always the DD.”
She was rambling, but it was pretty cute. She didn’t seem like the caretaker type at first glance, but looking closer, I noticed she was glancing at the group of people by the bonfire, like she was checking on them. I didn’t need another reason to find her attractive, but here I was.
