Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance (26 page)

“No.”

She tugs some more, but my butt stays firm. I give myself props for not giving in. After a few more minutes of struggling, Reagan lets go, throws her arms in the air, and screams, “Fine! I’ll tell Julia and Grace you’re being a child.” Then she marches into Phantom’s without shutting the car door.

That’s fine. I’ll stay out here all night. I don’t care. But I’m not going to attempt to be all hunky-dory around Wesley when I’m not ready for it. He hasn’t said a word to me since “I Never” night, and while Talon may be just my friend now, that hasn’t stopped him from trying to
make Reagan jealous. He keeps hugging me and kissing my forehead and doing all these very small yet romantic things, and I want to punch him in the face, but that would be hypocritical since I sort of want to make Reagan jealous too, if only to drive her away from Wesley.

Damn drama. I’m done with it. At least for tonight.

I kick my feet up on the dash and pull out my phone to play a little Fruit Ninja while I wait for Reagan to come back out and drive us home. But it slips right out of my hands when someone very muscular and very tall steps up to the door.

When I recognize the blue eyes and football jacket, I swallow the scream I had on my lips and clutch my chest as if my pounding heart might fly out and make a run for the hills.

“Shit, Talon. You scared me.”

He quirks a smile and leans into the car, and for a second I get scared again from the glint in his eye, like he’s about to do something I may not like.

His arms reach out and I pull back, but he’s not attacking me, he’s
lifting
me. Before I know it my tiny body is getting flung over his massive shoulder and he’s kicking the car door shut behind us.

“Put me down!”

He laughs, not saying anything. I don’t blame him. I’d laugh too if I saw this minuscule person threatening a hulking quarterback.

“I don’t want to go in there.”

Too late, because we’re already inside.

“Sorry, but we want to be with you. And you’re going to suck it up and have fun with us.”

I can barely hear him over the music, so I give up trying to yell back at him and go for a pout instead. When we get far enough inside, he slowly lowers me to my feet, my body sliding against his in a way that seems more intimate than it really is. The music stops, people clap, and I shrug out of Talon’s arms to join them, my scowl and eyes directed toward the stage.

Julia and Grace, who just sang a duet, pack up their stuff while the next performer pulls out his guitar, still dressed in his green Yogurtland polo. I try not to look at Wesley. I really do. But his eyes are drilling into mine with this look I can only describe as constipated. And once they leave my face, they go right to the person who’s leaning down to talk in my ear.

“Now cheer for our friends. Because I know you want to.”

I don’t, not really, but watching Wesley strap on his guitar and take his place on the stool in front of the mic makes my insides melt. I want to hate him, but I
can’t
. Damn him for that guitar! And for being right about it. Him plucking the strings is far sexier than anything I’ve watched Talon do with a football.

Until Reagan joins him onstage, taking her spot on the other stool and giving him that
smile apparently all guys fall for. It makes jealousy bugs crawl through my stomach because she’s got our two guy friends panting over her perfection. I can’t even hate her for it.

Talon stands behind me but doesn’t touch me or anything, and Wesley strums the first chord and sings in his sexy as hell voice the first line of “Ho Hey” by the Lumineers, and I nearly bolt from the spot.

Is he seriously singing this song with Reagan? It’s basically screaming to the world that he loves her and that, as the chorus says, they belong together. Talon must have a she’s-gonna-run sensor in his head, because he blocks my exit.

I manage to fake enough enthusiasm whenever Wesley looks my direction, his face going fire truck red every time he does. I pat my hips to the beat and give small smiles, but inside I’m counting breaths.

Something crinkles when I hit my right pocket, and I roll my eyes, knowing Reagan pushed a condom in there earlier. Because I’ve run out of the energy to cry, I laugh. I finger the foil, shoving it farther down into my pocket so there’s no chance of it popping out. As if I will ever need a condom, with the way my love life is going. The guy I thought I loved is standing behind me and I have no interest in doing anything with him, while the guy I really do love is singing about his love for someone else.

Story of my life. I may as well laugh about it.

The last note hits, and there’s more clapping, including from me and Talon, who leans down to my ear again and says, “Was that so hard?”

He has no idea how hard that was. But I nudge him in the stomach anyway, slowly trying to push out all my anger and jealousy.

“Hey, guys!” Reagan bounces up to us, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I see Talon got you to get out of the car.”

“More like dragged me kicking and screaming,” I say with a smile, eyes desperately trying to stay on her and not go over her shoulder at Wesley.

“All right, all right. We’ll have our girls’ night.” Her hand wraps around my arm, and instead of yanking me out the door, she pulls me toward the stage. Talon follows us, saying hi to a few of his teammates and acting absolutely chill. Why can’t I be like that? I know he’s not over Reagan, yet he’s being so breezy.

“Frozen yogurt first?” she asks, and I know she’s suggesting that the guys come with us and that Wesley use his discount.

“Aw, Ray, let’s stay here. I’ll buy us all drinks,” Talon says, inching closer to me as Reagan gets closer to Wesley. So much for girls’ night.

Wesley opens his mouth, but only a shaky breath escapes. Fine. Don’t talk. Ignore me some more. Where’s the Wesley who’d make a joke? Who’d say something about how I was
undressing him with my eyes as he played his guitar?

Talon takes another step toward me, almost making me want to scream at him, because if he’s trying to piss off Reagan, it’s not working. She’s practically hanging on Wesley’s shoulder. And I know he’s not trying to hit on me, because like he told me last week, I’m not
his
.

Not that I want to be anymore.

I turn around to head to the bar, a virgin margarita on my mind, and once again Talon blocks my way. Instead of pushing him out of my way—because that’s what I
really
want to do—I grab him by the shirt and tug him to the side. “I’m not leaving. You said drinks, right?”

His stance relaxes and he throws his arm around me. I don’t even care enough to toss it off. “Yup.”

He looks back at our two friends, saying, “You guys coming?”

Reagan starts to pull Wesley by the arm, but he yanks back so hard she almost falls to the ground. Her jaw nearly hits the dance floor as she stares at him. His whole body is shaking. He grunts out, “Sorry.” Then he shoves his guitar in its case and moves toward the door. “Sorry,” he says again, softer but with no less stress in his voice. “I … I need some air.”

He’s gone so fast that even Talon with his awesome reflexes can’t get in his way.

“O-kay. What was
that
about?” Talon asks, staring at the spot Wesley just disappeared from.

Reagan shrugs and looks at me. Hell if I know. But I think it has something to do with me, since I’m the one he’s been ignoring.

I look at Talon and say in my firmest voice possible, “Do you mind if I go check on him? Or are you going to stand in my way again?”

A smile bursts onto his face. A grin that’s almost mixed with relief. He waves his hand and says, “By all means.”

I’m not even going to try to figure out what is going on in his brain. I’d rather find out what’s up Wesley’s ass instead.

He didn’t get far. He’s right across the street, next to his van. He’s not trying to get inside and drive away either. He’s banging his forehead on one of the windows, and when I get close enough, I hear him muttering under his breath.

“Are you okay?”

He stops, eyes turning toward me. I take a step back when I see them glassy with tears, and all the anger I had bottled up for him evaporates.

“No, I’m not okay.”

Instead of counting breaths, I forget breathing completely. “I—I know you’re mad at me. But I don’t know what I did.”

We stare at each other for a million years. Then he closes his eyes and lets out a rush of
air from his mouth.

“Shit, Kayla. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand to see you with him.” He clenches his fists, and it feels like he’s tightening them around my stomach. “Never in my life have I wanted to hit Talon so hard. Never have I wanted so much to take what’s his.”

“W-what?” Wow. I’m incapable of speech after that bomb he dropped. “What about Reagan?”

His hands go right to his hair, tugging and pulling, while he paces outside the van. “Do you remember what I said before we started all this shit? When it was about making sure we didn’t mess up our friendships with them? Well, right now I couldn’t give a damn about any of that. That’s how much I want you.”

When did
this
happen? Wasn’t he just in there singing love songs with her? Weren’t we stressing about first kisses a few weeks ago?

Wait … maybe it was the same time that
I
fell in love with
him
. And for the life of me, I can’t pinpoint when that was.

“But … Reagan …?”

He drops his hands from his hair to my face, pulling me as close as he can without lifting me off my feet. “Please, Kayla. Look into my eyes. Trust me right now when I say this.” He gulps and I gulp, then he licks his lips as I lick mine, and there’s no laughing this time about synchronizing our actions. “I thought I was in love with Reagan. But how I felt about her falls so short of how I feel about you.”

Is he saying he loves me? Not just loves me, but is
in
love with me? That’s kind of what he’s saying. And I’m not sure how to respond, because I want to say it back, but he didn’t really say it. Then I get super aware of the bouncy-ball, electric weirdness flying through me. And I know it’s flying through him too because I can feel it in every bit of air around us, cocooning us in our own private world again.

“I … I …” I am a bumbling idiot.

He closes his eyes and lets his forehead fall to mine. His breaths are cautious, like he’s counting to ten before he has a complete meltdown. “I know I’m too late,” he whispers, minty breath having an icy-hot effect on my skin. My toes start to melt into the ground. “But that’s why I haven’t been around. Why I seem mad at you. I’m not. I’m just … It’s just hard to see. Hard to watch everything happen for you like we thought it would, and wishing I could be happy about it. Instead I feel …”

He opens his eyes, and I stare into those warm hazel irises. He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. I know exactly how he feels.

“Jealous.”

He nods. “Insanely jealous.”

My whole body is shaking something fierce. I’m not cold. But I
am
scared. Terrified about this actually happening. And even more terrified that it’s a dream and it isn’t happening at all.

He starts to pull away, and I try to find use of my limbs to bring him back. He only gets about five inches before my fingers snag the sleeve of his jacket.

I should say something. Anything. He just told me how he feels and he deserves to know how I feel. Problem with me is, I’m never good at expressing those things verbally. Hand me a journal and I’ll spill all. I want to tell him how he’s the only person I can talk to. How I laugh almost every time I’m with him. How when I see him with Reagan, I can’t stand it either. How crazy jealous it makes me to see him with anybody. How I wish I was using his arm as a pillow every night. How I may have suggested the practice kiss just so he’d kiss me. How much I want him. Not Talon. I’ve never wanted Talon like this. I could’ve lived my whole life with Talon never liking me back. But with Wesley, it hurts having him this close and not closer.

Of course, I can’t make any of that come out. It gets stuck somewhere on the back of my tongue.

Instead, I say, “You’re not too late.”

He stops, eyes going from my hand on his wrist to my face. “What?”

I say it again, a little louder and with an uncontrollable smile. “You’re not too late. Talon and I aren’t dating.”

“You’re not?”

I shake my head, making my curls bounce around my face. “No. And I … I don’t think I want to.”

“Want to what?”

Wesley’s supposed to be such a smart guy, but he needs me to spell it out? I take a step toward him, prying my melted feet from the ground. “I don’t want to date Talon. I don’t want to be with him.”

“Kayla, don’t be shitting me right now. I’m about to kiss you and I don’t want to end up with a smack in the face, or a punch to the gut, or anything like that.”

Okay, so he wants me to be clear because he wants to protect his heart. And his relationship with his best friend. I know I talked about how dreamy Talon was when he did such unselfish things, but Wesley puts him to shame. Wesley always thinks of other people before himself. But right now I wish he’d be a little bit selfish and take what he wants.

Which is apparently me.

I move my hand from his wrist, letting it fall to his palm so that we can interlock fingers. Wow. That feels so
right
. More right than anything I ever felt with Talon. I grab his other hand and cling to that one too. “My hands are too busy to abuse you right now.” I smile, pressing my
body against his long frame, tilting my face up in ready position.

His hands take mine with them as he grabs my waist, making sure I’m as close as I can possibly be. He leans down and we both lick our lips, then laugh.

“Kayla, just so we’re clear on this … I. Want. You.”

I kiss that dimple that just popped up on his chin. Partly because I love that dimple, and partly because he’s taking too long to kiss me.

“I want you too.”

(Even though the latter sounds so much more fun than the former.)