Saving Laurel

20. Mind Games

Laurel Gilroy

He has a nice smile.

Really nice.

With a cute dimple.

But the apologizing is a little nuts. He's like a doormat.

Which was solidified when I received a fairly lengthy text from an unknown number during my last period.

Apparently Brett is less nerdy than he looks and more of a protector. And he's protecting Wes.

He gave me a time, exactly 15 minutes after the end of school and a location, his ugly beat up wagon, to meet him and Wes. He also informed me that Wes would be riding with him and I could follow them, unbeknownst to Wes apparently because he almost got in my car.

I wasn't about to ask for clarification. It already seemed completely messed up and even though my curiosity is dying to know what it's all about I'm trying hard not to be intrigued.

My desires flip flop on a minutely basis.

Ignoring the uneasy feeling that builds inside of me, I pull out my music theory sheet and set it on the counter.

"So you actually understand this stuff?"

Glancing at the sheet, it looks like another language to me. The different symbols arranged on the sheet asking me to match them to their names. I have no idea.

He chuckles, eating another piece of fruit as he nods his head. "This is pretty basic stuff."

Perfect. I probably seem stupid.

"It's okay though." He says his chin jerks into the air, his head twitching slightly and when it stops he rubs his hand along the back of his neck. "I'll explain it."

"Does that hurt?" I blurt, curiosity bursting out of me before I can think twice.

His hazel eyes meet mine before they drop to the countertop and I watch his fingers tap along the mix of gray swirls in the Formica.

"Yeah, sometimes." He mumbles to the counter. "That one did."

He shifts on his feet and I wait for him to keep going but he doesn't offer any more information up so I pluck a strawberry from the bowl, pop it in my mouth and as I chew I say "alright piano man, what am I staring at then?"

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Wes has been checking his phone constantly. I've also noticed an increase in his tics, they're more frequent, louder, more consistent and he seems agitated. I can't stop myself from glancing at him, afraid he's on the verge of unraveling.

I'm also trying to convince myself I don't care. I'm not here to get involved.

I'm just about to ask him what the hell is going on when his phone goes off. His eyes dart to the screen before I watch him snatch it off the counter and stand from the stool. He's been trying to help me understand this stuff for the past hour and in his defense I think I'm starting to understand but I'm so far behind it's unreal. And I'm thankful for this impromptu break.

"Where are you?" He blurts into the phone without a hello as he begins to pace.

I keep my head turned towards my paper even though I track his movements with my eyes and listen to the one sided conversation.

"But...I know. Fuck! That's not when...mom." He whistles and I watch his body move in a flurry of motions. "It's just...I know...No..." I risk a glance at him and our eyes meet as he says "Laurel".

And then I drop my attention back to my paper. Why did my heart just start to race?

His head jerks up and he whistles again. And I steal another glance at him as he paces, this time his back is to me and he shifts a plant on the open shelf that separates the foyer from the living room before he shifts it back into the exact same spot it was in before he touched it.

"Mom." He pleads. "I...but...yeah, okay."

The resignation in his voice hits me hard. I've felt that hopeless before and I wonder what his mom has said to make him feel that way.

He pockets his phone, tics and then lets out a breath as he runs his hands through his hair. When he finally turns around he shouts "fuck off!" His cheeks turning red.

"That wasn't at you." He says and a smile flashes onto my face.

"Didn't think it was." I eat the last strawberry from the bowl, curiosity getting the better of me but really who can blame me? "Everything okay?"

Wes scrunches his face for a second, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose and I can't help but think that he looks cute at the moment. Like, is that even supposed to be cute? I don't know. But Wes some how manages to make it.

"My mom's stuck at work for a little while." He says and without realizing I laugh through my nose.

That has him upset? Isn't that like every teenagers dream. More time in the house alone without parents breathing down their back.

"I uh..." I pretend not to notice as he shrugs his shoulder, jerks his head to the left, inhales sharply and then touches his nose. "Obviously I have Tourette's."

Yeah, already know Wes.

"But I also have OCD." He tells me, his hazel eyes watching me carefully as he adds "and ADHD."

I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to say. I'll admit I'm fairly uneducated about all three, knowing only the stereotypes and the little research I did on my phone into the late hours of the night.

"So your mom not coming home...is a problem?" I ask hesitantly trying to figure out where this piece of information falls within the rest.

"Yes." He answers instantly, continuing on to add "well no. Probably not. I don't know. For me, yeah. Everyone else, n-no it probably doesn't matter."

I want to pry. But I also don't. Like I wish I could gather the information without any of the strings that'll undoubtedly get attached.

But before I can battle it out in my head, whether I should keep digging deeper to find what's really bothering him, Wes speaks.

"Do you mind if we play? I play?" He corrects himself through a tic.

Laughing quietly to myself, my own mind messing with me like his is clearly him, I gesture to the piano that sits behind me.

"Thanks."

"Mhmm." I hum but really I might have been hoping for him to sit down and play while I was here.

He slides onto the bench, raising his fingers to the keys before he glances over his shoulder and more confidently then I think I've ever heard him speak he says "coming?"

This is nothing. This means nothing. I just like listening to him play. And I wouldn't mind a front row seat at watching him either. So I bite my lip between my teeth and join him on the bench.

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Check out that cover! 😍

Also I love the hell out of Wes.