A/N: So, everybody is loving Weston. Nobody wants to be on team Jackson? Poor Jackson. He has no fans. :(
On with the chapter!
Three seconds into the kiss and I realize how horrible an idea this is. I mean, yeah, it is totally awesome in a weird kind of way, but then it registers in my brain who exactly I’m kissing. The same guy who a couple of days ago, offered to weed whack my legs. The same guy who’ll take any opportunity to comment on how ugly I am, compared to everyone and everything else. And I realize that this kiss is going to come with a lot of repercussions.
Sure, Weston is kissing me back, and automatically my brain wants to think its because he’s actually enjoying it. But looking at this objectively, I remember that Kristina is only standing inches away. She’d be able to tell if Weston is really into it, or if he’s faking. I remind myself that he’s doing this for show, and right now, I’m extending the performance much longer than necessary.
So, I jump back from the kiss. Not too quickly, though, so it won’t seem like something’s wrong. I don’t have the courage to look him in the eyes. Who knows what distain is swimming in those dark orbs of his? But suddenly, he presses his forehead up against mine. A gesture that has me stunned.
“You’re amazing.” He mutters. This is not real. This is not real.
And then, it’s like something hits him over the head, because in a matter of seconds, Weston pulls away from me too, but much too quickly. His sudden jump, causes him to bump into the guy behind him, who just happens to be juggling three cups of some unidentified liquid. The cups go flying in the air, while Weston and the other guy fall on the ground, and both cups of liquid decide Weston is their target, before drenching his shirt and hair.
The next thing I hear is Jackson’s laughter filling the air. It’s soon followed by a few others who saw the situation, including Kristina. I can see a hint of pink color his cheeks, so I offer him a hand, feeling kind of bad for him. He doesn’t take it. He pulls himself up from the ground, calmly walking towards the kitchen. I follow him.
He pulls open one of the drawers, grabbing a dishtowel from inside. I grab it out of his hands. “Here I’ll get it.”
“Addelyn—”
But before he can refuse, I’m already taking the towel, and attempting to dry his shirt. I could smell alcohol, and I figure that the mysterious liquid was simply beer. The only thing that would save the shirt would be a washer machine, not my horrible hand drying skills. I would’ve given up, but as I keep drying, I feel little sparks on my fingertips. I can feel every single muscle under that shirt, and boy, this guy has to be benching like 200lbs.
Oh god, WHAT am I doing?!
“Addelyn, stop—”
What if he knows that I totally was just feeling his abs? Oh goodness, he’d never let me live it down! I’d die of embarrassment, literally.
In this moment of thought, I don’t even realize that I’m probably rubbing him raw. So, I drop the towel on the ground, and start sputtering like an idiot. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh my god, I didn’t mean to…sorry. I just… sorry, sorry.”
Wow, it’s official. I’m a loser.
“Addelyn—”
“Sorry!” I repeat, instinctively going back to dry him off some more, but I no longer have a towel in my hands, so now I’m just rubbing his shirt off with my hand. Which is WAY worse, believe me. “OH GOD! Sorry!”
I jerk my hand back, and I can feel my entire face burning. I can’t look. There’s no way I can look up to his face right now. He has to be furious by now, glaring down at me with nothing more than hatred in his eyes. I can’t face that, and the only other reasonable option that pops into my mind is to stare at the floor, and continue sputtering out the word ‘sorry’ every other second.
“ADDELYN!” He raises his voice, forcing me to look him in the eye. His face isn’t mad, but instead very serious. I’m not familiar with that expression on him. “Stop. I’m fine.”
I nod, bending down to reach for the towel. I get it. I’ve probably embarrassed him so much that he doesn’t want to look at me. Heck, I wouldn’t want to look at me either. I start to hand him the towel, but my eyes drift down to the shirt again. I’ve gotten a good amount of the beer out with my obsessive scrubbing, but there’s still a small part that looks a little damp. “Wait, I’ve almost got it out.”
He grabs my wrists, staring me straight in the eye. “I said I’m fine.”
But he doesn’t let my wrists go. He just continues to stare at me, those dark eyes peering into my dull green ones. And just like him, for some reason I can’t turn away.
Then, he lets my wrists drop, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I figure this is his signal to tell me to leave, but before I can move away from the spot, Weston’s hands are cupping my face, and he crashes his warm lips onto mine.
This I did not expect.
There’s no justifying it this time. No one else is in the kitchen except us. There’s no one to see us; no eyes to judge if we really like each other. So there’s no performance, because there’s no audience. This is 100% undeniably real. And with that thought flying through my head, I just about lose all ability to stand.
“OH MY GOD!”
So when Jocelyn’s voice appears in the kitchen, and Weston jumps back, I fall straight on my butt, slowly regaining the feeling in my legs. I force myself to look over at the source of the voice, spotting Jocelyn and Chris standing in the kitchen opening, mouths agape.
Uh oh.
To be continued…
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RIGHT NOW! I love doing that. ;)
“You two…you were just…OH MY GOD!” Jocelyn’s eyes are wide, and she’s flickering them from Weston to me. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to say! I mean, I can’t even remember what my name is at this point, much less come up with a reasonable excuse as to why were making out in the kitchen.
“Look, Jocelyn, I think you might have the wrong idea.” Weston’s calm voice feels the room. “We were just taking your advice.”
We were?
“You were?” She asks, stealing the words straight out of my head.
“You told us that we should start acting like a couple in public and in private so we were just…um… practicing.”
Eh, better than what I would’ve said, but still pretty pathetic. Jocelyn nor Chris take the bait, and I figure it’s best to just keep my mouth shut, and allow them say whatever is on their minds. Or better yet, end the situation entirely.
“It’s getting late.” I say, before Jocelyn can say anything to Weston’s lame excuse. “We should probably get going.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Weston quickly agrees, before brushing past a very shocked Jocelyn and Chris. I get up from the ground, and follow suit, desperate to get out of the house as quick as possible. But then, as I get outside, I realize there’s still another hurdle to deal with. We’re all riding in the same car. And I’m always that last to get dropped off, which means I’ll be alone with Weston all the way home. Great.
I try to stop and take a quick breather, filling my body with the fresh, night air to help clear my mind. It isn’t working. I’m still so loopy over what has happened in the last five minutes, my brain has gone into complete shut-down mode, and I have no idea how to turn it back on.
Weston and I wait on opposite sides of the truck. Neither one of us says a word, but seem to quite entertained by our own thoughts. At least, I know I am. I’m trying to imagine what would make Weston do something like that. He hates me. Why would he kiss me?
Unless he doesn’t hate me, which would mean that he likes—Oh goodness, I have GOT to stop thinking.
Jocelyn and Chris come outside, silently walking towards the car, and getting inside. In fact, for a good while, the entire car ride is silent, though you could cut the tension with a knife. Jocelyn was never good with tension, so it’s no surprise when she breaks the silence first. “So, Chris, did you like the party?”
Oh good, she’s making conversation with Chris. That’s safe.
“Uh, yeah. It was pretty cool.”
“Didn’t you just love the lip-locking—I mean, hip rocking music?” She quickly corrects herself, and I feel a slight blush come on from her ‘mistake’.
“That was some pretty awesome music.” Chris says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I know everyone is going to snog—I mean, BLOG about this tomorrow.”
Okay, now I know they’re doing this on purpose.
“I know! I feel sorry for the poor sucker who kissed—I mean, MISSED this party.”
“ENOUGH!” Weston yells, knuckles white from how tightly he is gripping the steering wheel. His jaw is clenched, and I see there’s a little pink on his cheeks as well. “Silence. I want silence.”
And so silence fills the car once again. My brain still hasn’t caught up with everything that’s going on right now. Too much has happened tonight, and I don’t think my mind, or my heart is keeping up with the pace. Now, as I sit next to Weston, I have no idea what to think about him. And I really don’t know what to think about that kiss. It can’t be that Weston’s actually getting feelings for me! Come on, he can’t literally have feelings for the girl who he incessantly insults. Not the girl he calls ugly.
And I can’t have feelings for him! Taking the brunt of his mockery, I’m obligated to hate every fiber of his being. I’m not supposed to constantly think about how amazing that kiss was, or how I really, really wanted to do it again. I should be disgusted. I should be lathering my lips in Germ-X. I should be taking advantage of this moment, and insulting him the way he’s always insulted me. He’s in a pretty sensitive state at this point. Anything I say can cut deep.
But is that what I want?
I’m so confused.
Weston parks the car in Jocelyn’s driveway, and she leans forward in between the two of us. “Thanks for driving, Weston. I had a great time tonight. I’m sure you did too.”
I hear him growl.
She leans back in her seat. “Chris, I was hoping you’d come inside with me. Remember, I was going to show that awesome Star Wars DVD collection to you.”
“OH! RIGHT! Yeah, I’ll come in.” Chris says.
“Okay, well can you smooch—I mean, SCOOCH over, so that I can get out? It seems like my door is locked.”
“But of course.” Chris says, with a slight chuckle, before getting out the car. Jocelyn follows, shutting the door behind her. She smiles up at me from the window.
“Have a good night you two. Don’t make out—I mean, TAKE OUT all that anger on each other, since—”
“Goodnight, Jocelyn.” Weston seethes through his teeth, before quickly backing out of her driveway and onto the road.
A twenty minute drive home, alone in the car with Weston.
This is going to be interesting.
A/N: Yes, it’s short! But I packed enough information in here, don’t you think? So, tell me what you liked, what you hated, by leaving a sweet little comment in those boxes down there. And don’t forget to vote! That always helps too! #43 right now, and I’m hoping to get even higher than that, but I can’t do it without your help!
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