Something like that. What did that mean?

“Then you told me that you feel more bold around me.” He looked up from where he had been staring at his Chucks and smiled with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Flash.

Wes, across from me at the table. Waggling his eyebrows. Asking me. “Oh, crap. You dared me to give you a lap dance.” He laughed, and I pulled my hands away to shove him in the chest. “You ass. Of course, I did it. I always have to prove you wrong.” His laugh grew fuller.

I threw my head back and groaned. Then I heard the faintest sound of a memory singing in my ears. Fancy. “Fancy?”

“That’s the song.” He kept laughing.

“Wes!” I laughed went to shove him in the chest again, but he stopped my hands and held them in his own.

“For what it’s worth, C.” His eyes bore into mine without a trace of humor. “It made my fuckin’ life.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The paint aroma hovered above us in the stillness of the gym. Between the erratic beats of my heart, I frantically searched for mischief in the lines of his face or humor flickering in his eyes. I saw neither. What I saw was sincerity.

Flash.

The events of the previous night flooded back to me. I’d given Wes my best effort at a seductive lap dance. I tried. I really did. I wanted to seduce him. I wanted Wes to want me.

I turned around to face him halfway through the song and slipped. He caught me though, and that was when I saw it. The same passion was in his eyes now. He wasn’t smiling or laughing. He simply looked at me, meaningfully.

I’d stopped all movements, and lowered myself onto his lap, slowly and cautiously leaning into him. His rough hands hesitantly touched my knees and slid up my thighs. They didn’t stop until they met my waist, and he slid his hands around my hips. Our eyes remained locked on one another in an intense, yet cautious stare. I rocked my hips in closer to him and felt him grip me with his palms. That was when he spoke.

Dan staggered from behind Wes.

“He called me a plain and useless whore,” I said quietly still searching Wes’ eyes. He closed them in a wince and squeezed my hands in his palms.

“Don’t say that,” he gritted between his teeth.

“And you beat the shit out of him,” I said grinning carefully and pulling my hand from his grip to touch his face again.

Wes opened his eyes slowly and nodded into my palm.

“Thank you,” I said and stepped toward him. I tilted my head up and brushed the tip of my nose against his chin. The sharp inhale of his breath pulled at my skin. I closed my eyes, tracing my nose up his lips and breathing in his scent of peppermint and tobacco. “You smoked,” I whispered out and shivered, the faint brush of my lips now nearly touching his.

Wes parted his lips to answer, and the ringing of his phone burst through the silence. “Motherfucker,” Wes hissed and winced away from me. The instant rush of cool air slicing between us set me back a few steps.

Wes’ heavy footsteps rattled against the floors. “Yeah?” I cringed at the harshness of his voice when he answered the phone. “Well, where is he?” He ran his hands through his hair and squeezed it between his fingers. “I’ll be there in five,” he snapped and shoved his phone into his back pocket.

He continued to walk away from me and back toward the mural bending down by a pair of paint cans to grab his keys. He stood up and turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, Capri. I have to go,” he said matter-of-factly. The coolness in his voice chipped away at me. All I could do was nod. “I’ll come by later if I can.”

“Wes, wait,” I said to him.

He spun on his heels but continued to backpedal from the gym. “Sorry C, that was the shop. Blue didn’t show today.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, relieved he wasn’t specifically running from me.

“No, not now. I just can’t—” He ran his hand through his hair and then stuck his hand out at me. “Like too much. Too much at once, I can’t handle it.” He stopped in the doorway and cracked his knuckles. Oh, so it was me who he was running from. I was too much.

“I see.” I nodded holding my chin up.

“Lemme just deal with this.” He put his hands out and patted the air. “Let me see what’s up with Blue.”

“Of course.” I felt instantly guilty. Blue didn’t go into work, and here I was, concerned about myself. “Go, Wes.” I nodded and his body fell in relief. Then he was gone.

Clink. “Stop throwing Skittles, Wes.” Brush into paint can.

Clink. “I mean it.” Standing in front of Wes, he threw Skittles against the brown mural.

Clink. “Wes!”

Clink. Eyes on me. “Do you ever wonder, Capri, why I’ve never wanted you?”

Clink. Skittles thrown, bounced off me. Hallowed echo.

He stood. My mouth opened, but words didn’t sound.

He was in front of me. “You’re boring.”

Clink.

My eyes popped open and the ceiling above me blurred in the darkness. I was boring. Even dream Capri thought Wes could never want someone like her. Why would he, though? Vibrant, funny, gregarious Wes had no reason to see me.

I sat up, reached my bedside to grab a hair tie, and wrapped my hair up in a knot. I wasn’t falling back to sleep anytime soon. After Wes had left so abruptly today, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but him.

I replayed my attempt at kissing him over and over. The scene spun like an endless carousel of humiliation in my head. At a certain moment, he had seemed like he was going to let me kiss him, but that had to have been wishful thinking on my part. Wes wouldn’t kiss me.

Clink.

I stilled on my bed and watched my window.

Clink.

What the crap was that? I opened my bedside drawer and shuffled my hand around searching for a weapon. My hand stopped on something long and smooth.

Clink.

It’d do. I pulled my vibrator from the drawer and tiptoed to the window.

I peered through but found it hard to see into the darkness. I unclicked the lock and slid the window to the side, then, smack, I was hit in the face with a pebble.

“Fuck, C? Capri? C, are you okay?”

“Wes?” I stuck my head out of the window rubbing the spot on my forehead where the pebble had struck. What was Wes doing here, and more importantly, why was he throwing rocks at my window?

“Where are you?” I asked, squinting into the night with my arm raised in the air defensively.

“Down here.” I saw his hands wave down next to the hibiscus plant on the side of the house.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I wanted to see you, but you weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I’d just come over and see if you were still up, and…wait…what’s in your hand?” Wes stepped from the shadows and into the light of the moon streaming softly through the trees.

“Nothing.” I put my hand down quickly.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“A weapon. Yes. I didn’t know it was you out here.”

“A vibrator?” he asked, and though I couldn’t see the features of his face, I most definitely heard the waggle of his eyebrows. Crap. How could he tell?

“I have like superhuman vision,” he answered, seeming to read my thoughts. “Plus, its shape is fairly recognizable. Damn, I can’t believe you were going to beat me with a fake cock.”

“Okay, Wes.”

“I mean really, what could you do with that? Vibrate me into submission?” He was laughing now.

“Shut up, Wes. I didn’t know who or what was out here. I grabbed what was closest.”

I didn’t know why I was even explaining myself. By his obnoxious giggling, it was clear nothing would make this any less hysterical for him.

“And that was closest?” He stopped suddenly. “Oh,” he said curling the end of the word.