I giggle softly. “How about some pizza first, I’m starving.” My stomach growls on cue, making Wesley laugh along with me.
“I guess you need it. A marathon with Wesley Rich requires stamina.”
I snuggle into his side, following him out of my room and into the living area. Kail is nowhere to be seen, Flynn briefly telling us that she’s a no-go, therefore, he sent her home.
Wesley snickers, encouraging the boy talk, while I order pizza. By the time I come back from the kitchen, the two of them are playing some game on the PlayStation totally ignoring my presence.
“Sorry, babe,” Wesley says, paying full attention to the screen with the remote in his hand and a character on the screen in some sort of battlefield. “Just after this level.”
I let out a fake groan, but deep inside, I’m happy.
My brother and boyfriend becoming friends? Yeah, there’s no better sight than this.
Chapter Eighteen
I’ve always considered myself an even-tempered person. I’m not one for drama, don’t enjoy attention, or have any need to be the focus of anyone’s life. I plod along, work different jobs to make ends meet, and am not one to have many aspirations. With no disrespect to Mama, I’ve watched her do the same thing almost every day, and there’s nothing wrong with that in my opinion.
Occasionally, someone in town has a bright idea to start a business, move away, and the next minute, they’re front page on the local newspaper as our newest successful export.
Los Angeles is completely different. People are itching to climb the corporate ladder of success, and after spending some time here, I have somewhat caught the success bug.
Even with Wesley around, I still manage to work hard and make sure I’m going above and beyond what Emerson requires. It’s a juggling act at best.
Wesley demands attention, and in his presence, it’s all about him.
He left the apartment at the crack of dawn, telling me he wanted to hit the gym before heading to work. He kissed me goodbye and attempted a last-minute quickie which he won.
Then poof—gone.
We didn’t get to talk much last night since most of the night was all about Flynn. I’m sure they’ve formed a bromance. I even overheard Wesley setting up some gig that Flynn can play at this super popular club.
They talk about music, laugh about some show on MTV, and despite my invisibility in the room, I’m genuinely happy they get along so well. It’s one less battle to fight, and hopefully, Flynn will break the news to Mama and tell her how much of an awesome boyfriend Wesley is to make it easier on me when I drop the bomb to her later.
He’s incredible, except for when he’s not, like when he’s in a mood or acts like an overly hormonal teenager with a brooding face. And his obsession with my whereabouts and responding to his messages is a total pain in my ass. Actually, now I think about it, it is borderline creepy.
But the best sex-you’ve-ever-had outweighs creepy by a longshot.
This is what happens when your boyfriend’s insanely sexy and has the stamina of a wild stallion. Your vagina becomes a bossy bitch, and boy does she boss me around.
Sitting at the dining table, I drink my coffee and take small bites from my toast and answer some emails to distract myself from thinking about Wesley.
Remembering Liam and Phoebe, I contemplate texting both of them just to say hello. A part of me misses them terribly—even Liam—and the other part of me tells me to let them be for now. Wesley’s rule echoes in my head, and the last thing I need is another battle with Mr. Unpredictable.
If I want a chance to build my life here, I need to distance myself from them and spend more time with Wesley and Flynn.
And Wesley keeps me busy, anyway.
I remember how Liam and I would lie on his bed for hours on end, watching television shows or talking about random things. Wesley’s the polar opposite. When he’s with me, he keeps me on my toes. There’s never a moment to stop and talk. It’s unimaginable that something so simple can be so difficult with him.
The coffee doesn’t help calm my anxiety. I decide to leave home early and get a start on the day and try not to remind myself for the hundredth time that Emerson and Wesley are meeting up around lunchtime.
Their meeting’s going to happen downtown. I didn’t ask too much because the less I know, the better as far as I’m concerned. That fact, though, doesn’t stop me thinking about it, and it’s not like me to be so obsessive over something, or should I say, someone.
***
“Don’t you just love this fall line that Emerson will wear in New York?” Aurora hands me her iPad. The designs are beautiful, long coats and earthy colors. “I was also thinking about a line for you.”
“For me?”