Saving Laurel

33. Upturned Grapes

Laurel Gilroy

My nerves have only grown, to the point my heart beats hard in my chest. I've been trying not to ask Wes about lunch, about his explosive hitting of the table, the thing that's kept me a little on edge for the remainder of the day. The air feels tense around us, I think it's mostly coming from me, but as Wes glances at me for the millionth time I feel compelled to break the silence that's been lingering between us.

"My friend Molly wants me to come back for the weekend but I'm not sure." I confide in Wes, perched at the counter in his kitchen as we both pluck grapes from a vine in a bowl.

"Why not?" He asks and I'm momentarily distracted as I watch the muscles and veins ripple in his forearms as he pops a grape into his mouth.

I didn't even realize I found that attractive until I met Wes. I blame it on the piano.

Shrugging my shoulders, I opt out of the whole truth instead beating around the bush. "I just sort of left on tense terms."

His head bobs in agreement, interrupted for a moment as he tics. It's his usual, his shoulder jerks upward, then his head jolts to the left followed by him sniffing hard through his nose and then his hand reaches up to touch the top of his nose. This tic I've gotten used to it, it's almost to the point where I don't even notice it anymore. It's just something Wes does, like how Brett clears his throat constantly or how I've noticed Ellie always double checks things almost compulsively. What I haven't gotten used to is what he did at lunch.

"What about you?" Searching through the bundle of vines, I select a perfectly round, plump grape and pluck it from the stem. "Plans for the weekend?"

He leans across the counter to the opposite side for the water he left there. I catch myself staring as his shirt that rides up and the elastic of his boxers that hang out of the top of his jeans as they shift across the side of his hips.

This is ridiculous, I shake my head slightly and force myself to stare at the grapes as he sits back down.

"I've gotta go to my dads." He says, taking a drink afterward.

"I didn't know you had a dad." I blurt out, instantly embarrassed.

Wes chuckles, "yeah you're right I was immaculately conceived. I'm the next Jesus Christ."

We both grin like idiots. "You know what I meant."

I lob a grape at him that he somehow manages to catch and tosses it in his mouth. All the tension and unease I've felt momentarily gone as Wes and I fall into easy conversation. Or easy for me, maybe Wes doesn't want to talk about his dad but he doesn't protest.

"I'm supposed to spend half my time there and half my time here but my dad and sister have a hard time with my tics." He says and as if on cue, he whistles then cycles through his normal set. "It's just easier if I'm here."

"What's your sister's name?" I also had no idea he had a sister.

He looks at me, something I hate to admit that I definitely like but he's got the prettiest eyes.

"Harper, she's in college. Veterinary medicine." He tells me.

I'm like a child begging for more candy, eager for more information about Wes and his family. "What about your dad?"

His eyebrows raise as he regards me with a confused expression. "You want to know my dad's name?" And I nod. "Josh Thompson. He owns a string of gyms around here and a couple of the other close towns."

Wes whistles again, jerking his neck to the side before his hand slaps his chest . He's been relatively calm since we got to his house, the sudden aggression startles me and I gasp. He's not Mason, at least, I don't think. But Mason wasn't Mason either, not in the beginning.

And even though I scolded Wes for apologizing I feel guilty for drawing attention to his tics. I've done enough research to realize he probably doesn't like it.

"Sorry." We both say.

Wes smiles. And I can't help but smile back because I know exactly what he's thinking.

Trying to keep my mind off Mason even though it feels like he's connected to everything, even Wes, I ask "why can't your dad and sister handle your tics?"

I mean, I guess I know why. They can be very obstructive and attention-drawing. But I don't see why they wouldn't want to be there for Wes.

"Well I'm sort of embarrassing." He says, his hand slamming his chest again.

I wait for him to grow still before I absolutely disagree. "You're not embarrassing."

He laughs, plucking a grape off as he turns to look at me again. "You're a bad liar."

Letting out a huff, I fold my arms across my chest, the very recent cut smarting from where it's pressed against my side.

"I don't find you embarrassing at all."

"Oh trust me, I am. It only ta.." his shoulder jerks, his hand that's trying to grab a grape hits the bowl and it topples over.

I'm too busy trying to catch the few stray grapes that roll across the counter that I miss the end of his tic but I'm sure he did all of it.

"Now just imagine that.." he nods to the turned over bowl, "in a nice restaurant accompanied with some of my more colorful tics." He says. "I'm embarrassing."

I've hung out with Wes, mostly at school but we've gone into town once. Some times Wes is fine, passing as mostly normal and sometimes he isn't. But even when he isn't I haven't felt embarrassed to be seen with him. I don't think the others are either.

"Well no offense but your dad sounds like he sucks."

His dimple appears as he smiles. "Nah he's alright, he's a good guy he just wasn't prepared.." he tics. "For me."

I have a collection of loose grapes in my hand and I take one from the pile and eat it before offering my hoard to Wes. He takes one, puts it in his mouth and stares at the upturned bowl on the counter. I want to ask him what he's thinking so bad it nearly kills me. But somehow I refrain.

Instead, I push my paper a little closer to him and say "so am I complete lost cause?"

He laughs and as his dimple appears and his face lights up I can't help but hope that he's nothing like Mason. That this is Wes, always.

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Guys, gotta say, I love this chapter.

Really I just love Wes.

And you guys, incase you forgot.