[A/N] This book is officially a Wattpad exclusive, so while that means I did have to take down the patreon only chapters from my patreon it means I get to go whatever fiendish way I please with this book since I don't have to hurry to finish it. I'm a happy about that, because it means I get to get into some real drama. Woo 〜✧
It was a good decade ago when I was last in Weston's room. I remembered it well because it was one of the last times we'd me in the days leading up to the confession of his that sent me through a tailspin.
My father was divorced from my mother, who left and had little contact with us from an early age, and we didn't complain, and somewhat understood, my father wasn't easy to be around, his consistently critical and unfriendly mood could grate on you after a while.
I spent a lot of time in Weston's house. Things weren't as easy at home, I wanted to spend every second in his house.
He'd asked me at school if I wanted to sleepover, which generally ultimately meant sex as well, it was rare at that point that we slept over without doing anything. With that in mind I nodded and told my father.
My father was irritable, we fought in the way that teenagers generally do for a long time after school. I knew he wasn't happy with me, my grades were never really good enough, not bad but not good enough somehow, and he disliked my learning the clarinet which he thought was a woman's instrument, or running track.
However it never really struck me that he was homophobic when he was annoyed by me going to Weston's house, possibly aware of what we were getting up to in some capacity.
I'd slammed the door shut on my way out, red-faced and frustrated.
I'd drained all my frustrations onto Weston as I laid on his bed with him, and Weston didn't say much, but nodded occasionally and grunted. He was on his cell phone, texting someone, I got the impression he didn't want me around.
It was just such a contrast to the last time we'd met and he'd kissed me and told me I was sexy and that he wanted to kiss me at school, I'd gotten butterflies and said nothing but kissed him back and held his hand. It felt so pure, like I was getting engaged, even though I was old enough to know better.
Suddenly he wasn't just annoyed or upset with me, he was just cold.
"Are you alright?" I'd asked him, massaging his shoulders.
He'd rolled his shoulder and frowned at me, lying on his back and continuing texting. "Can you stop always touching me?"
The offhanded comment hurt, enough that I sat there thinking, damn what was that? I should leave.
But I was reminded I didn't have anywhere to go, would I go back home then? After that argument?
So I sat there awkwardly, feeling myself being lowered into the freezer, suddenly not sure what I should be doing in his room and it was getting late.
"Can I play a movie?" I asked, I really just wanted to read something to pass the time but I figured he would have liked a movie and we could have at least watched it together. It dawned on me that maybe he was having a bad day and I was being insensitive.
He sighed long and hard for a moment and shrugged.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
He grunted.
I kissed his shoulder, growing somewhat desperate for a reaction, I hated not knowing what was going on inside someone's heads, and being that I wasn't out I had the slight despairing notion that if it all crumbled between us somehow I would never find another man to be with, that I would like the same way.
He looked at me, a slight smile on his lips for a moment, a glimmer of something in his eyes. I felt a little elated, assuming he'd been in a bad mood and I was able to cheer him up. We kissed, for a while, but he was limp and mostly unreceptive, when I got near to stopping he he grew a little more active and then stopped when I reciprocated.
Confused I eventually pulled away.
He sighed and turned on his side, flipping open his phone again.
"You're okay?"
"Man, stop asking, I said I was okay."
I stopped, he was in a bad mood but I was being pushy, I thought.
After a while it began to grow cosy, that was how it felt to me in any case, I was wondering when he would say we should head down for dinner, being that the atmosphere was so awkward before I didn't feel comfortable suggesting it myself and just waited, relaxing watching a movie.
"Max how long are you staying for? It's getting late?" He said this without looking out of the window.
I froze and said nothing for a moment, then blinked. "You invited me for a sleepover though." I asked him, confused.
"No I didn't." He looked at me like I was mental.
I felt a flush of embarrassment curl in my stomach and I disliked it. "Yeah, you said sleepover."
He gave me an annoyed look and rolled his eyes. "I didn't."
"You did..." Did he? Had I somehow misunderstood something. I was getting a little unsure.
"I didn't, but whatever, go ahead." He replied, stretching in his bed, not looking at me. "If you want to stay you can." But he said it in a surly tone, like he very much hoped I wouldn't.
For a while after that my brain was tangled in the knotted hair of humiliation, and hurt too, not a great mixture. I didn't feel like I could go home, so I stayed and eventually, later that night, we did end up having sex, he'd laughed like normal, grinned at some joke I'd told him at the end, and I'd breathed a sigh of relief after, feeling like whatever he was moping about was over.
He'd gotten a little less close to me in the weeks prior, I guessed, but I hadn't really noticed it because on and off he would be sufficiently nice as to make up for it. I was getting used it, and was beginning to appreciate when he was being nice to me a little too much for someone so inconsistent.
After it ended I'd remembered the occasion with such visceral shame, realised I must have forced him, that he was upset and exhausted by my attentions, me trying to kiss him and follow him around, that he was probably right and hadn't invited me to sleep over. It had been horrifically sobering, a crushing humiliation.
In fact, if he hadn't lied and said he wasn't gay, I might have been in a much worse position, because in retrospect I realised the rabbit hole he was pulling me down, likely unintentionally.
Through which I slowly grew more and more passionate, loved him and saw no return. Let him drift away from me and let people see me follow after him like a pet. I would have done all of the rationalising for him, and forgiven for any misdeeds.
That was my new post relationship evaluation.
It almost seemed as though Weston still thought I was there, in that position, secretly waiting for him to be nice enough to bestow his affections upon me.
"You came alone." He said in passing to me as he was chatting to another one of James's friends, my own close friends moving in and out of the kitchen, helping put together some sort of cocktails that sounded as though they were mostly juice and syrup.
"I did." I sipped at my wine.
"So you gave up dating the teenager?"
I pursed my lips and said nothing, pretending to relax back into my seat while his hazel eyes followed me.
He smoothed out his shirt. "Not so easy huh. They're emotional." He smiled at me, his eyes irritable as he pointed toward his cheek. "Hot headed and violent."
I looked at him and set down my wineglass. "Sometimes you have to please ask the mouse not to bite the wolf." I spoke with a certain cold air. "Or the wolf might choose to ask the mouse himself."
"And when did I bite him?" He glared at me darkly.
"When you kissed me." I snapped.
He looked unimpressed, eyes still examining me, looking me up and down. "So I'm a mouse?"
"Well you're certainly not the wolf in that situation."
He looked offended but settled down, squinting at me. "You know you aged well. You look the same but better. Even more dignified. You're almost James's exact type." The last sentence were said with a slight sarcastic tone.
I looked at him, wondering if he was jealous of me. "I am exactly James's type." I replied. "And James is mine. It's only a pity that the intern, Mathew, is all over him tonight." I looked Weston dead in the eye. "Or I would be."
I got up, carefully supporting the wine, without waiting for a reaction.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down roughly and I snapped my head back at him in surprised. "What are you-" I shook my hand free. "Now look! I've spilled wine..." I frowned, patting the wine stain with a napkin.
"You used to take a compliment better." He gave me another napkin. "I'm just trying to talk to you. Did I do anything to make you afraid of me?"
I raised my brows. "Weston stop talking to me as though nothing ever happened."
"Did I not apologise for that?"
"I don't remember if you did, honestly, and quite frankly it wouldn't make a difference, since I rather doubt it would be sincere."
He glared at me, then tucked the glare away. "I'm making an effort. Like I did back then as well. You're the one that ran away, the same way you always do."
I scoffed, irritated. "I ran after you back then. You just couldn't take the hit to your ego when, for once, I was the one that left. Permanently, I'd hoped."
He gave me a strange look, like he was genuinely getting irritated with me perhaps, or holding something back.
I saw James observing the party from just the right angle that he likely couldn't quite see us talking, laughing at something Mathew was saying as he looked at him all bright eyed, and Norman on his other side laughed too.
I got up again. "Don't touch me." Although contact was easier since 'mating' the crude term that Lowell used for it that was apparently in common usage amongst werewolves or lycan, it still grated on me a little, made my skin feel hyperaware in the wrong way.
He stood up after me, eyes blazing. "That's pretty fucking extreme don't you think?"
I sighed. "Weston. I have nothing to offer you." I couldn't help sounding sad. "I knew someone with your name ten years ago and that is all. James had a meaningful relationship with you. He invited you out of courtesy. Whatever it is you want from him now, don't ruin his birthday party. Be polite to him and leave. You'll find someone new in time."
"You're right, I liked him. You ruined that." He accused me.
I took a breath, circling my seat to head out of the room. "Why come here and do this?" I shook my head in disbelief, and began marching out of the room.
"Do what?" He followed me, surprisingly fast on my heel.
I turned to walk into the hallway, where no one was currently passing through, and nearly reached the end where the toilet was, but decided not to enter while Weston was following, angry.
"I've been looking for you!" He snapped at me. "It's not fair for you to not be the slightest bit grateful! You brought an intern with you, instead of your boyfriend, and I'm supposed to believe he isn't your new toy? You don't realise why you're picking young men? You're trying to recreate the days we were together."
"What?" I couldn't help but be shocked. "In what realm of existence could you compare Lowell to you? I'm very nearly taller than you!"
He just continued. "Every time you look at me your eyes run from top to bottom, you're not still attracted? Bullshit. And you won't look at the real thing because you flipped your lid and ran." He accused me, increasing vindication with every word, his eyes narrowing. "Did that feel good? Nice and dramatic, I know, your life is a movie."
I blinked, eyes wide.
I didn't even understand if he wanted to be with me or wanted me to want to be with him. That was the power of that startling ego, that I had seen as nothing but magnetic so long ago.
He took a breath and swallowed, still breathing a little fast, a little flushed as he brushed the light brown curls out of his forehead and sighed, shifting in front of me, widening his stance, shifting to stop me from walking past him if I tried to, reaching out with a hand, his watch glinting in the hall light.
"Max." He spoke coaxingly. "Let's talk alone."
"Lowell and I are engaged." It wasn't true, not because I didn't like the idea, but because at this point we were tied together with a lot more than a piece of paper.
I wanted him to hear it though, the finality of those words. I was fed up, disliked the bitterness I felt around him and wanted him to stop digging up those old feelings he knew would rile me up.
The semi permanent smile that always curved his lips into a pleasant shape grew flat, the twinkle in his eyes hardening.
[A/N] I still need to figure out if I'm allowed to give shout outs on this book, but we'll figure it out. Patrons... （'・｀˵ ）♡
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