Page 10 of Wasted Memories
Right as I stepped around him, my left knee buckled. He caught my upper arm before I could go down, sending those damn sparks down my arm and into my fingers.
This was just great. First the embarrassment of lying about the ride home, now almost falling splat on my face. When I got home, I was going to bury myself in my sheets for the next five years.
Braving a look up at him knowing my cheeks were on fire, I swallowed audibly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to..” I trailed off. I stood there like an idiot staring up at him, losing my train of thought.
There was nothing I wanted more right now than to be at home, standing in the shower washing off the shit show of a day I’d had. If Jett had just answered my first call, all of this could have been avoided. I could have clocked out and ended my day with that, but naturally, it had to go further south than it already was.
Wesley let go of my arm as we heard a motorcycle approaching. Snapping out of the staring contest we somehow got locked into again, I cleared my throat and continued on my way toward the sidewalk out front.
“Is that your boyfriend?” I heard him call as I walked away.
“What’s it to you?” I replied with a glance over my shoulder just as Jett was pulling up to the curb. I swung my leg over the back of Jett’s motorcycle and grabbed the helmet he held out to me, shoving it on my head. Flipping the visor down, I took one last look at Wesley, who stood there with a stupid cocky grin on his face, watching as we sped away.
Chapter Three
Wesley
Ineversawmyselfas a mechanic, but here I was, sitting in my truck outside Jim’s Auto Body waiting for my first shift to start.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed working on vehicles in my free time. Tinkering on old cars was probably my only remaining hobby after I dropped riding horses, I just wouldn’t have chosen it as my career.
Given the limited businesses hiring around here, I didn’t have too many options. I saw this place was looking for mechanics and walked right in to apply. They hired me on the spot, scheduling me for my first shift starting Monday.
So here I stood, thirty minutes early to my already too-early-in-the-day shift.
Seriously, who started a mechanics shift at six in the fucking morning?
I couldn’t sleep very well the past few nights. I had a particular little woman stuck in my head. When I say stuck, I meant stuck like horse shit on the bottom of your boot.You could try to get rid of it, but some part of it would stick in those little grooves. Emerson was stuck in the grooves of my mind.
I was trying to avoid drama. Women were complicated and I didn’t want any part of that mess. I had too much going on in my life to deal with butthurt boyfriends, and this particular woman certainly had a boyfriend.
I knew she was with that drunk from the bar, so why did my dumbass bother asking if that was her boyfriend when it was pretty damn obvious?
She had a big attitude for someone so damn tiny, seemingly not taking anyone’s bullshit, especially mine. I’d given her a hard time at the restaurant just to see how she’d react, but after overhearing her tell a customer she’d been there for fourteen hours at that point, I lightened up a bit.
She had looked exhausted but I figured it was due to the fact she’d been out the night before, not because she’d been waiting on tables all damn day. Respectfully, whoever suckered her into working a double on a Saturday deserved to go to hell.
She wore those light washed jeans that looked like they were painted on her body, showing off the curve of her ass. I hated to admit that I’d watched the muscles in her legs move as she bussed tables. It was almost like I could see through the fabric to those tan legs I’d glimpsed Friday night.
Women like Emerson got in men’s heads and made them do crazy things. The way she dressed, how she held herself. It was all a façade meant to lure them in. I’m sure she survived off of all the compliments men gave her.
It didn’t make sense to me why her boyfriend would let that shit go on. If she was mine, I’d make every damn person in this town back the fuck off.
It was a good thing that’d never happen. I was here to lay low and clear my head of all the shit back home.
Could I even call it home anymore? My father passed away a little over a month ago, which left only my mother back home. I had an older brother, Easton, but he left ages ago and made a family of his own, abandoning us and leaving his old life behind. We hadn't spoken since before he moved out, and I was completely fine with that.
My father’s funeral was practically last week and my mother was already boning some middle-aged hippy coffee shop owner.
“People grieve in different ways, Wes,” she had said. “You can’t hate me for needing someone after all we’ve gone through.”
“Hell yes, I can," was my only response.
That was the last thing I’d said to her. I packed a bag that night and drove away. I didn’t care which direction I was going, I just wanted to get out of there.
Growing up, my parents were the kind of parents every kid dreamed of having. They loved each other more every day, if that was even possible. They never fought, or if they did, they didn’t do it in front of me and Easton. They were high school sweethearts. Inseparable, madly in love, crazy for each other.
