Addison Blakely: Confessions of A PK (33 page)

I held up the blooms. “Someone’s going to think I robbed the florist.”

Luke and Marta offered laughs at my weak attempt at humor, but I couldn’t stand there and ignore the brimming silence while Luke had
that
look in his eye. Marta must have seen it, too, because her eyes darted from Luke to her black dress sandals and back again. My stomach knotted. Great. And here I thought the drama of the night was over.

Suddenly Bert and his wife, Megan, jostled through the crowd of hugging contestants and parents toward us. “Good show.” He draped one arm around Megan’s shoulder and offered the biggest grin I’d ever seen on him. “Mochas on the house to celebrate, whenever you stop in next.” He smirked at me. “Which, for you, probably means tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Bert.” I wanted to hug him, but since this was our first conversation ever to be held without the Got Beans counter between us, it seemed more awkward than appropriate. I smiled at Megan instead. “I’m glad you guys came. I honestly didn’t expect this big of a turnout. There was a—uh—misunderstanding with some advertising plans.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it.” She patted her husband’s arm. “He won’t tell you this, so I will. After he heard you and Marta discussing your fears about no one showing up, he decided to help. Sent an e-mail to every coffee shop he knew in a thirty-mile radius and asked them to hang flyers in their stores. Then he told everyone who came in the shop if they showed up, they’d get a coupon for free sprinkles on their drinks.”

“Meegggaan.” Bert drew her name out in six syllables, sounding like a petulant child embarrassed by his mom in the school yard.

She dismissed his protests with a flip of her hand. “Whatever. You’re a softy, and you know it.”

“You did that?” I clutched the flowers to my chest, wondering how many more times I’d be blown off my feet that night.

Bert shrugged, heat flaming in his cheeks. “Well, if you girls are determined to gripe about all your female problems where I can hear you, I figured I might as well help so you’d shut up.”

He said
female problems
like all Marta and I talked about were tampons and Midol. I laughed, relieved the Bert I knew once again stood before me. I couldn’t help it. I pulled them both into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that helped.”

“Anytime, kid.” Bert tugged at Megan’s arm. “Let’s go, babe. I’ve got to open the shop early tomorrow.”

It was only nine o’clock, but I let him make his escape without further embarrassing him. I turned around where Marta and Luke stood waiting for me in the dissipating crowd and couldn’t contain my smile. “This is turning out to be a pretty good night after all.”

“See? I told you prayer works.” Marta winked.

Maybe more for some than others, but I’d go with it tonight. “God provided, I won’t argue. And I know who He used.” I divided the bouquet from my father in half and pressed the flowers into Marta’s hand. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Even I didn’t have to have a flawless connection with God lately to realize she was a total godsend.

“Even though my sewing ability leaves a little to be desired?” She laughed, her eyes lighting up with appreciation.

“Even so. Who knew gum would hold better than thread?”

“Sounds like you ladies have some interesting stories.” Luke sidled closer to me and looped an arm around both of our necks. “Why don’t we all grab some ice cream on the way home? I want to hear how all this went down.”

I opened my mouth to gently turn down his offer when I caught sight of Wes, watching me from the side aisle near the door. He stood shrouded in shadows, his jacket lit with the soft glow of the E
MERGENCY
EXIT sign above his head.

Luke’s arm suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, and I shrugged out of his grasp. “Thanks, but I can’t. I have some last-minute business to take care of.”

Marta’s and Luke’s heads swiveled to follow my gaze, and I felt more than heard Luke’s disappointed sigh. “But I told your dad I’d walk you home.”

“I’ll get another escort.” I didn’t mean to throw the word he’d used on me when we first met back in his face, but it slipped out regardless.

Luke rolled in his lower lip, nodding slowly. “If you’re sure.”

I wasn’t. I had no idea what to say to Wes, but I couldn’t leave him in the auditorium after he came through for me like that. He deserved better—even if I did have to knock him down a peg to convince him to help.

Marta gave me a quick hug good-bye. “Text me later and let me know you got home safe.” She pulled back, and I caught the rest of her unspoken message loud and clear. She wanted to know what would happen next.

Nodding, I cast a nervous glance toward Wes, who waited patiently for me by the door.

I wanted to know, too.

When I’d rushed out of the house earlier this afternoon in a little black dress (that was almost too tight across my hips—better cut back on the whipped cream part of my beloved mochas), I hadn’t thought to grab a jacket heavier than a gray, long-sleeved shrug. How could I have known I’d end up walking home with Wes in thirty-degree temps instead of riding in Dad’s car with the heat blasting?

Though there was the argument that his proximity still offered a rush of warmth deep inside that easily fought the November chill.

Wes finally broke the quiet that had stretched between us from the school yard halfway down the first block. “Good show tonight.”

The compliment warmed me further, especially from him. But I couldn’t help wondering if he was just fishing for a compliment back. “Yeah, it was.” I hesitated, keeping my eyes on the pavement. “Thanks to you.”

He shrugged, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, elbows out as he slowly shuffled beside me. “What can I say? You needed me.”

The fact sent a shiver crawling down the back of my neck, one that had nothing to do with the breeze that ruffled the tree limbs beside us. I didn’t like that I needed him any more than I did earlier when having to beg for help. Still, Wes came through for me, even if it wasn’t easy—for either of us.

So why did I still feel more frustration than gratitude?

I let out an involuntary shiver.

“Here.” Wes shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around my shoulders before I could protest. “Is that okay? Or am I being too nice again?”

I stared at him, unsure at the sincere tone, yet sarcastic phrasing.

“Sorry.” Wes sighed and started walking again, urging me forward. “I’m a little keyed up.”

I studied him from the corner of my eye as we strolled, his features dancing in and out of passing streetlights. “I thought finally doing something you loved where people could see you would give you an adrenaline rush. Not wear you out.”

He shook his head, his profile set in stone. “You still don’t get it.”

“Then enlighten me!”

We walked the next block, the silence between us louder than anything I’ve ever heard.

“Wes—”

“Addison—”

Normally that would have made me laugh, but tonight I couldn’t dredge up an ounce of humor. Maybe it was the heavy night pressing around me, or maybe it was knowing my dad would have a cow if he saw me walking up the driveway with Wes instead of Luke. Or maybe it was simply that Wes was losing his bad-boy charm. It didn’t change my feelings for him, but I finally realized that the romance and mystery of all things Wes, the sarcasm and wit and the brick wall that I had been irrevocably—and unwillingly—drawn to months before, now just felt more like a burden than a puzzle to solve.

Had he changed? Or had I?

And if all I was feeling was true, then why did it hurt so much?

“You first.” Wes gestured toward me.

“No, you.” I had a feeling Wes wouldn’t like what I was about to say—assuming I had the courage to actually say it.

“This sucks.” He gestured between us, and I had a feeling he wasn’t referring to the physical space that could have hosted a third person.

“I know. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“Forgive me, already.” Wes stopped, grabbing the hem of his jacket I wore and tugging me toward him. “I did what you wanted, PK. Even all the crap you never actually said you wanted.”

“What are you talking about?” I wanted to wrestle free, knew if I put even an ounce of pressure in the opposite direction, he’d let go of the jacket. But I couldn’t. I knew what was coming, knew the script like I was watching a movie I’d written. I couldn’t help but think this might be the last time he ever touched me, and I didn’t want him to stop.

He leaned close, his breath puffing clouds in the night air. “I tagged along with you on that miserable excuse for a date with your father and teacher—in
public
. Then I took you on a stupid double date to a bowling alley and didn’t beat up that idiot who was all over you in front of me.” He shook his head as my mind raced to keep up. “I even stopped seeing Sonya. Tried to do the whole ‘commitment’ thing.” He bit off the last words like they’d been dipped in poison.

“Commitment thing?” I laughed, the harsh sound bouncing in the void between us. “Is that what I am to you?”

“No. I didn’t mean it to sound so bad.” Wes stepped away from me, pushing his hands through his hair. “I’m just saying I’ve tried. I fixed those trees after Bert went on about how big a deal it was to you. I even played tonight, and you have no idea what that cost me.”

“Cost you?” I hated repeating him like a parrot, but I couldn’t stop. “You helped me out with those props, yeah, but you broke into a school at the same time, Wes. You fought with your dad in the hardware store, saw me—then went running to Sonya’s house for a ‘CD.’ “I gave the word the air quotes it deserved. “And sure, you played for me tonight, but only after I practically twisted your arm. And it was so last minute, Jessica and I both nearly had heart attacks before you showed up.”

A muscle twitched in Wes’s jaw. “Everything I just said—that’s all you see? The negative?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, lifting my chin. “Not everything is black and white.”

Wes met my gaze, and we stared at each other for a long moment. I wished I could rip off his jacket and throw it at him, but the moment I expressed my anger, I knew the tears would come. Besides, I couldn’t quite figure out why I was mad in the first place.

Maybe because the entire concept of “us” grew more unrealistic with every moment. As I’d just pointed out to him, even the good things Wes did—for me or not for me—were still tinged with gray. He’d never convert into what I needed him to be, what he must become to join me on my side of the religious line. And as much as I was tempted to cross over and join his, I couldn’t. I was Addison Blakely, PK.

Whatever that meant.

“Is this about Luke?” Wes started walking again, leaving that ridiculous question in his wake. I had no choice but to hurry after him or shout our business down Victoria Street.

“Don’t be crazy.” I huffed, trying to match his long stride.

“He’s into you, so why is it so crazy? I saw the rose.”

“My dad gave me flowers, too.”

Wes shot me a sidelong glare. “Don’t even.”

“Who cares what Luke thinks or feels? This isn’t about him.”

Wes stopped again, now only half a street from my house. “Then what is it? Why can’t you forgive me? I swear to you, nothing happened at Sonya’s that night.”

“I believe you.” Still stung a little, but I did believe him.

“Then is it because I didn’t handle your rejection of me that night on our picnic with all the right words? Didn’t laugh it off and say ‘sorry for trying, pass the grapes’? It hurt, PK. I’m not used to that.”

I never knew an apology could hurt worse than the initial offense. “Right. You’re used to girls doing whatever you want.” The images that popped in my mind made me want to shred his jacket with my fingernails. And he was upset because Luke brought me a rose? The irony of our situation bubbled in my stomach, a fizzy cocktail that made me want to laugh and cry in equal measure.

“So I have a past.” Wes threw his arms out to the sides. “I’m not some kind of Disney prince. This is what I am. This is what you get.” He lowered his arms, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “If you still want it.”

I stared at him, his offer hovering between us, louder than the silence and heavier than the blanket of stars encasing the night sky. This was it, my moment. My choice. What did I want? I used to know. Looking into Wes’s open, vulnerable, heartfelt gaze, my heart shouted one answer. My head another. I wanted to fix him. Fix us. Fix this mess between us that had come out of nowhere. I wanted to go back to the night before he pressured me, change his mind.

Change mine.

But there was no going backward, only forward.

I just knew I was tired of running in circles.

I
think I’ve lost my mind.”
I stared at my bowl of melting chocolate chunk ice cream, too depressed to take another bite. The clock on the kitchen wall ticked a rhythm, a reminder that life inevitably went on despite my desire to crawl under the covers and stay there through spring.

Marta, however, had no problem polishing off her bowl. She helped herself to another spoonful. “Nein. You are starting to realize who you are and what you want.”