3000 Miles (A Wesley Stromberg/Emblem3 Fanfiction)

Chapter Nine

"Go ahead and park out front," I said after five hours of Wesley trying to get me to talk.

I gazed up at the white apartment complex--third floor, fourth window from the left--eager to put an end to this road trip. Rather than listening to me, he pulled into the parking garage underneath and parked. With a smirk on his face, he turned around to grab my smallest bag.

"Don't you think you need a little help unpacking?" he insisted, exiting the car before I could and opening the trunk.

"You've done enough, thanks," I replied coldly.

He removed my larger bag, letting the trunk echo as he slammed it shut. "You know, the phrase 'thank you' usually comes from the mouths of the general population when someone offers to lift their shit for them."

"I don't need help, thank you."

Snatching my bags from him, I made my way to the entrance, mildly surprised that he wasn't stalking after me like he seemed to enjoy doing. I slowed my walk slightly, wondering if looking back was a good idea, when he finally kicked it into gear. His sneakers thudded on the concrete, a sound I was slightly happy to hear.

"You know, the more bitter you act, the more I'm convinced!" he called as he got closer to me.

"Alright, you want to talk it out?" I screeched, whipping around to face him. "Let's just knock it out right here in the parking garage where everyone can hear us. Check under cars for paparazzi! Wouldn't want this to leak somewhere."

"What's with the sarcasm?" He stamped his foot in frustration. "It's like one second, I think we're making steps towards being civil if not happy and then you go Mr. Hyde on me! Just tell me what's on your mind so I can leave happy!"

"No," I spat.

"Because you're in love with me." He said matter-of-factly.

"No," I said a little more aggressively.

"Then what is this?" He gestured between the two of us, making sure I knew he wasn't going to get off my back without an answer.

I ground my teeth, unsure of what I should say, in what order, or if I was even feeling what I thought I was feeling. He tapped his foot impatiently, glancing over his shoulder at a car horn on the street, finally growling and snatching my bags from my hands. As he walked to the car, I felt for my house key, which I remembered was in my smaller bag.

"Alright, you know what? I'm taking you somewhere."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"The trip doesn't end until you open your front door," he said like this had been a rule from the start. "You can either join me on your own, or I'm going to come right back over there and sling you over my shoulder."

I held my ground, raising my eyebrows when he looked over in my direction. Rather than getting angry like I'd wanted him to, he let his hard frown ease up into a faint smile accompanied by a breath of a laugh. He jogged in my direction, bent down, and pulled me over his shoulder.