Authors: J.M. Sevilla
“Geez, Wes, don’t you think that was a little over dramatic?”
“No. You had to sit alone on a couch while I was down here worried about where you were, and then had to see your soon-to-be-ex-tutor flirting with you.”
“He wasn’t flirting.”
Later she was definitely bringing up the topic of Erick no longer being her tutor. No way was that going to happen. He was the best she’d ever had. It helped that his older brother has dyslexia almost as bad, so he’d seen firsthand the techniques that worked and remained patient because of it.
“Yeah, Ava, he was. Aren’t tutors supposed to be all geeky looking and shit?”
Ava stopped Wes at the bottom step, wanting to face palm herself for being so naive, “You’re jealous.”
His expression changed to a “ya think?” glare.
She wanted to kick herself for realizing this now and not back when school started.
“You don’t have to smile about it.”
Ava didn’t realize she was, “Sorry, it’s just all making sense now.”
“What is?” He huffed, pouting in a way she always found cute on him.
She tried impersonating his furrowed brows and scowling lips, “Why you’ve been all moody lately.”
He smirked, trying to conceal his amusement, “That’s a pretty ferocious glare, be careful who you use that on.”
They got interrupted by the room cheering that Wes had come back to them.
As they made their way into the crowd, Ava was still smiling.
She never thought of Wesley as the jealous type. It was honestly a relief to know that even someone as confident as him got insecure.
“You’re here!” Dakota cried, flinging herself on Ava for a hug, guiding her away from the crowd.
“Why didn’t you tell Wes I was here?” Ava quite sternly demanded, surprising herself.
“I tried, honest to god I did, but he always had swarms of people around.”
Ava peeked over her shoulder to find that exact thing happing now.
“See,” Dakota pointed. “He’s a magnet.”
There was no denying that.
One of the team members was trying to get him to do a keg stand.
Wes shook his head no, getting Xavier’s attention who was flirting with some cheerleaders. The two exchanged some words and a bro-hug.
“Sorry, but I’m out for the night. See you fools on Monday,” Wes shouted to the room.
The crowd booed before quickly going back to partying.
Wes and Ava went to Xavier’s car, which they drove to an empty parking lot.
All they did was cuddle in the back seat, talking, but it was what they both needed after such an abrupt union. Ava put off bringing up Erick, not wanting to ruin the moment and new closeness they were sharing.
Wes was out the door before the end of his first class; something his teachers had learned to expect from him this year, never questioning him. A perk of being a key player on the basketball team.
He jogged to Ava's first class, arriving at the same time the bell rang, dismissing class.
His heart thumped loud against his chest, picking up its pace as he waited to see her.
The pounding was worse than ever before. They hadn’t seen each other since he had brought her home after the party, and this morning he’d worked out with Xavier so they arrived in separate cars. They'd talked on the phone, but it wasn’t the same.
All his mind had done was replay what it felt like to be inside her, the way his body wanted to consume her into his. He didn't know if that was normal or not, if that's how it felt the first time you had sex. He asked Xavier, but his first time, he reluctantly admitted, was awkward and lasted less than a minute.
Students pushed through the door. Ava was one of the last to leave, staring at a piece of paper on top of the binder she was holding close to her chest. Wesley knew from her expression something was wrong. Her lips were pursed together exactly like when she was trying not to cry or show that she wanted to cry.
He pushed off the wall with his foot, only needing two long strides to reach her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She looked up and it seemed his face only made it worse. Tears filled her eyes and her lip trembled. He tucked her into his side, her arms clutching the binder against her chest, burying her face into his shirt as he lead them to privacy.
He moved in front of her, taking her face in his hands, wiping away any tears that fell.
“Hey,” he spoke low and soft. “What's wrong?”
He hated her tears, every one that fell feeling like acid burning in his stomach.
She brought the paper out for him to see.
A red ‘D’ marked the top of the page.
She wiped at her face, “I don't understand. I studied so hard for that freaking test.”
She had, which was the main reason they hadn't seen each other over the weekend (he was a distraction). He pulled her into his arms, holding her to him, his arms long enough to reach around her backpack.
“I got too nervous and couldn't use my concentrating techniques,” she sniffled into his shirt.
He kissed the top of her head, hating that she had to deal with this frustration, hating that everything came easy for him while the girl he loved had to struggle through it all.
The bell rang for second period to begin.
“Great,” Ava mumbled, pushing away.
He held on tighter, “Don't worry about it. I'll make sure you don't get into trouble.”
She sagged back into him, completely trusting that he would.
He loved that.
He helped her calm down enough to head to class. He made up some bullshit to her teacher about Coach wanting to talk to her. The teacher seemed suspicious as to what the basketball coach would need Ava for, but he accepted it. Another perk.
Coach gave them the afternoon off for winning, but they all knew it was because tomorrow night’s game was against the worst team in the county and it was the best time for the team to get some rest.
He went to Ava's house, to the only spot they ever had any real privacy – the hammock.
She laid curled over him. He played with her hair, lips and nose resting on top of her hair, letting her scent relax him. They remained silent for a long time, both content.
Wes broke the silence, having a few things he wanted to talk to her about before he had to leave, “I have something for you.”
He reached into his pocket, retrieving a phone that he placed on his stomach.
Ava moved her head enough to peer at it, “Wes–”
“Wait,” he stopped her by placing a finger across her lips, wanting to explain before she refused to accept it. “After Friday’s game I realized we could have avoided a lot of it if I could have called or texted you. I know you’ll never let your moms or brother get you one, not wanting them to use their money. That was fine before because you only ever went to school, my place, or yours, and anywhere else one of us was with you. This phone is used. It was my mom's old one that she replaced a few months ago. I had my parents put you on our family plan, so it really isn't costing much more; in fact, if you don't want me paying for it, you could afford it yourself.” He removed his finger, “Okay, now you can lay into me.”
He studied her face as she did the same to the phone, contemplating, the wheels turning with such determination it might as well have been the blues of her irises rotating around.
She finally let out a breath, fingers hovering over the object, talking before she allowed herself to touch it, “I'll only accept it on one condition.”
“And what's that?” He asked, amused, twirling his finger around her hair, watching her face that was far too invested in this (considering it was just a phone).
“You accept that Erick will remain my tutor,” she replied with assurance he wasn't used to.
His immediate reaction was
hell no
, but he held it in, looking up to the magnolia trees, hoping they had the power to calm him so he could act more rational and not like the asshole he wanted to be.
She continued, as though sensing he needed a minute and this was her opportunity to explain, “I'm comfortable with him.” She placed her hand on his chest in reaction to his heart rate picking up its pace, “It’s not in the way you think. He really understands what I'm going through. His older brother is just like me, which is why they paired us together. Yes, I still have frustrations, but I truly feel he helps keep them to a minimum. Please Wesley, I need you to accept him. For me, if nothing else.”
Dammit, she had him.
“Fine,” he agreed, pulling her closer around him, burying more of his face in her hair, reminding himself that he loved her and that he’d better get used to other guys being around her, because what job out there were no boys allowed?
None, unfortunately.
It wasn't long before the school year had ended.
The basketball team won state, making it to nationals, coming in third.
A few short weeks later the triplets turned eighteen.
A couple weeks after that the racetrack held their annual amateur drift races.
The races had started out for fun. Now it had agents coming, hoping to find their next client, drawing in more people than were allowed entrance. It had grown to the point that they had to have pre-order tickets and hire security for the event. It was what paid the track’s expenses for the year, making it so everything else was money in their pockets.
Parker watched Ryder turn white as a sheet when Maggie’s race began. She was finally able to take part in it, and they all anxiously watched from the top of the main building, where they were able to view the whole track.
When it was all over and Maggie had won, all air expelled from Ryder’s lungs.
Parker was shocked to realize he had been holding his breath the whole time.
He knew Ryder had a crush on Maggie. He could tell by the way he avoided her like the plague but was always staring at her. He had brought it up once, but his brother got so flustered by it that his words stammered while he tried to deny it. Parker let it go. He didn't think they were a good match anyway. Ryder needed to find someone more like Ava, who preferred to be away from the crowds and enjoyed Friday night movies at home more than going out. Someone who didn't mind that he was anti-social because she was the same way, who wouldn't force the touching until he was ready; something he believed Maggie would move too quickly on, believing she could help.
Parker was feeling better than ever these days. To his complete surprise he hadn't had sex in over nine months. Nobody but Ryder knew.
He did find he had started an OCD over things in its absence. Things had to be in order at his side of the garage and in his home, but he was okay with that, it didn't hurt anybody (well except for Peter, who got yelled at every day for not putting the can opener in its correct location).
Now that Violet was eighteen he was ready to move their relationship forward. He truly felt he could handle a relationship (at least with her). She was the only one he'd ever want by his side. He was going to talk to Noah about it that night. He figured it was his best chance at Noah agreeing. Race day always left all the Baxters happy, and Maggie winning would only lighten their mood.
Then came the hard part of confessing his true feelings to Violet. He prayed he wasn't too late, that she still wanted more from him. Despite the chance that Noah might not agree or Violet shoot him down, he was optimistic, something he couldn't recall ever being. He was in the moment, not letting the past dictate his life, and it felt damn good. Unfortunately, moments like those were when life decided to send you under, always wanting to test one’s limits and strength.
Arriving at the tracks was a man Parker never thought he'd have to see again. The man who had made him need to fuck women every chance he had to try and maintain a sense of control over his body from the vile things that were done to him as a boy; things that had made Parker feel helpless and worthless as a person, and as a man. Just like that, a landslide came crashing down on his self-respect, dignity, strength, and everything else he had worked so hard to regain. Instead of being the man he had become, he reverted to that scared little boy who didn't fight back. He wiped his palms on his thighs, his hands shaking.
Parker thought he might be sick, his eyes refusing to look anywhere but at
him
. He had his arm around some woman who looked more haggard and trashy than he did. Parker’s eyes remained glued to them as they weaved their way through the crowd to their seats.
“You okay, man?” Wes slapped him on the back, giving his shoulder a shake, “You don't look so good.”
Parker tucked his hands under his armpits to hide the way they wouldn't stop trembling.
“Fine,” he mumbled, low and hoarse. The bile that would tickle his throat every time that man came near him had returned.
Others came over, talking, but it all sounded distant and muted.
The only voice that he could distinguish was Noah's, who was right in front of him, but he couldn't make out a thing he was saying.
Noah's rough hands took hold of Parker’s head, forcing it to look at him, “Son, talk to me.”
Parker opened his mouth. No sound came out. He felt his body being shoved, forcing his feet to move. It took a moment to register that Noah had started leading him away to his private office. Noah sat Parker down on his oversized chair. Both his moms were there talking to Noah.
All Parker could hear was that man's voice, and all he could do was replay everything that had been done to him, like a horror film that had your insides begging you to leave the theater because you didn't think you could take anymore, but you remained in your seat until the very end.
Someone got him to drink some cola, which helped to make things begin to focus.
There was a soft knock on the door and his sister slid inside the room, silently closing it behind her, “Um, Mr. Baxter, I know what's wrong.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Stevie came over to comfort a stricken Ava.
“Um,” her eyes darted from Parker to Noah, and then her two moms. “Can I talk to you in private?”
Parker didn't know who she was talking to, but after some pleading from his moms who wanted to understand what was happening, they reluctantly left, telling them they would be right outside if they were needed.
“I saw one of my mother’s old boyfriends in the crowd. Parker wasn't the same during or after he was around. I think he did more than just beat him like the others.”
He hated that his sister suspected something had happened. She couldn’t have been more than four when he finally left.
Noah's words were menacing, “Show me.”
Then Parker was left alone. Someone must have told everyone to stay away. A numbing sensation started in his chest and spread through his veins. Parker welcomed it, inviting it to take over.
He opened the door, where Stevie and Naomi were waiting with Violet. The worry in all three of their eyes only pissed him off. When Stevie reached out to comfort him, he shoved her hand away. He left the building, not having a clue where he was going.
Violet ran after him, not saying a word, keeping up with his long strides.
For the first time since he’d met her he couldn't stand to have her near him. He was angry at her for making him think he wanted something different for himself. If it had been last summer when he saw that man it wouldn't have bothered him like it did now. He had softened, let his guard down.
If he was thinking clearly he would have known that Violet was his only saving grace, but he wasn't.
“What the fuck do you want?!” He snapped at her, coming to a halt.
The hurt in her eyes brought part of him back to life.
He buried it as far back as he could. Emptiness was easier to deal with. All one had to do was make sure it stayed that way.
Parker was at the end of the track, not even realizing he had walked that far. Violet was no longer with him.
He wasn't able to remember anything after he had yelled at her, and he was too far gone to care.
Lily's assistant, Natalie, was there writing something on a clipboard. She was chewing her bottom lip. He had always found that trait sexy on her.
He approached her, saying something that had her laughing and glancing up at him. He didn’t know what the fuck he said, or what they spoke about for the next half hour, but somehow it led to them making their way to the garage, hands and mouths exploring everywhere.
As they got into the backseat of Violet’s car he had a brief moment of clarity, warning him to stop. He ignored it, sinking into her, binding her hands over her head, needing the escape, not caring that with every thrust inside her he became more disgusted with himself.
He wanted to hate himself, because he was, in fact, worthless.