Page 33 of Wasted Memories
I think he just wanted an excuse for me to talk to him more.
He woke me up with a steaming plate of chicken parmesan, which I inhaled after my stomach reminded me I was surviving off a granola bar. After I practically licked the plate clean, he’d led me to the bath.
It didn’t dawn on me while I was with Jett that I liked these kinds of things. Dinner being made by someone other than myself, a bath ready to sink into. I was used to being the one to take care of him and it felt weird switching roles to being taken care of.
I could get used to this.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself get used to this treatment and fall for Wesley. Things were too complicated right now. My head was whirling with all of my conflicting thoughts and my sanity was hanging on by a thread.
I pulled on the clothes I’d been wearing prior to the bath and found Wesley sitting at the kitchen island. He had a book in his hands and was wearing what I presumed to be reading glasses. I didn’t think something as simple as glasses could physically make me melt, but clearly I was wrong because I felt my cheeks heat at the sight of him. I cleared my throat, trying to hide the effect he was having on me.
“Thank you,” I managed to get out, my voice scratchy.
He set the book down as he shifted his attention to me, placing the bookmark in between the pages he had been lost in. I watched as his fingers brushed across the page as he closed the book.
My southern region was clearly not on the same page as my brain. He was just being nice, trying to help me get my mind off of everything. I shouldn’t take it any other way.
But it was hard not to with him sitting there like some sexy teacher and I was the student pining after him. That fantasy was always repulsive to me, but seeing him in those reading glasses? That fantasy didn't seem so far fetched now.
I wasn’t into him like that though. Or was I? At least my head wasn’t. My body was an entirely different story, but I was smart enough not to act on it, especially so soon after what happened with Jett.
“Don’t mention it. If you’re tired, like I said, you can take my bed. I don’t mind.”
“ButImind. I can’t ask you to sleep on the couch. Plus, I don’t think you’d even fit.” He glanced at the couch like he was mentally measuring it. He stood up, set his glasses on the counter, and walked past me to head into the bedroom. Not sure what his plan was, I followed him down the hall.
He laid a blanket and pillow on the floor next to the bed, leaving the comforter and the second pillow on the bed. “That work for you?”
I nodded, stepping past him to get myself situated on the ground.
He chuckled behind me. “I’m taking the floor, Emerson. You’re sleeping up there.”
Too tired to argue, I climbed into the bed, pulling the comforter over myself. Wesley switched off the lights and shuffled over, getting situated in his makeshift bed on the floor.
Laying in the same room as him felt awkward, but I tried to ignore it, closing my eyes as the silence weighed on me, keeping sleep from claiming me. I turned on my side to face away from the side of the bed he was less than a foot from and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
“Goodnight, Emerson," he mumbled sleepily.
“Goodnight, Wesley.”
After what felt like forever, I drifted into sleep with the image of him wearing those damn glasses, tattooed arms holding a book in front of him.
I was screwed.
Chapter Seventeen
Emerson
Thetearsfelluncontrollablyas I stared at the steering wheel of Jett’s truck, nausea rolling through me in waves. Jett was at the bar every night this week, and if he wasn’t there, he was home with a whiskey and coke in hand.
Tonight was my breaking point.
Brendt had called me to come pick him up from D Bar, but Jett was so fucked up, he couldn’t get his own ass in the truck. Brendt had helped him in and came home with us to help me get him inside.
As soon as we’d pulled into the driveway and Brendt had the passenger door open, Jett had keeled over and emptied what had to be a gallon of beer and whiskey onto the concrete. It still sat there, the passenger door wide open after Brendt had to practically carry him inside.
My bones felt numb, but my mind was reeling. How could I get the point across to Jett that this was a problem without making him feel shitty for putting me and our friends through this?
Mustering up the strength, I wiped my tears and climbed out of the truck, closing the driver's side door. I came around the other side, shutting the passenger door and grabbing the hose from by the house to rinse off the driveway.
