Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance (16 page)

Wesley chuckles, yawns, and squeezes the puffy coat covering my arm. When did his hand get there? “I can’t move. You’ll have to undress me.”

“In that case, no deal. I can’t move either.” That is no joke. My limbs have melted into the floor of the van.

“Rain check, then.”

I feel his breathing go from normal to slow and deep, and a few minutes later he’s lightly snoring in my ear. Instead of annoying, it’s sort of soothing. I must be really tired too. My eyes close and I swear they are back open within two seconds. Wesley is above me, shaking my shoulder. “Hey, Talon texted back.”

Tired and relieved, I let a gush of air zoom from my lips and I take the phone from Wesley’s outstretched hand.

We’re fine
.

“That’s it?”

He nods and makes his way back into the driver’s seat. “I’m going to take you home. It’s seven and your parents have called about thirty times.”

I curl up in the blanket, too tired to care I’m not buckled in. That’s the text we get after being up all night looking for them? I want to kick some ass through my phone. But I let my eyes close and think of Talon and Reagan, and I’m more relieved than angry. And for some reason I keep thinking of Wesley’s arm and wishing he was still back here letting me sleep until I’m ready to get up.

“Do you want me to walk you in?”

How did we end up at my house so fast? I must’ve fallen asleep within a millisecond.

“Um, no. That’s okay. I’ll call you later.”

He covers a yawn as I wave goodbye. There’s no way we’re going to make the trip back to school today. He better sleep all day to get ready for the trip, and I’ll join him. Not
in bed
. I mean, I’m ready to flop on
my
bed and never leave.

But the second I step in the house I’m greeted with blue eyes, dark hair, and muscled arms. I want to smack the sexy god, but my hands are trapped against his chest.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry, Kayla.”

I take it back. I don’t want to abuse him at all. “Where were you? Is Reagan okay? What happened?”

Talon lets me go and I shrug out of my coat, waiting for him to answer me. He scratches the back of his head, eyes my parents, who are pretending not to listen in the living room, then blows out a breath. “We … we broke up.”

(You wanted this to happen!)

I’m somewhere on the moon. My feet left my shoes and rocketed me off the earth and landed me there. I’m trying to find air to breathe, but nada. I’m trying to figure out where all my limbs are, but I can’t figure that out either. It’s just a repeat of what Talon said, over and over in my brain.

I’m still asleep. I’m in the back of Wesley’s van freezing my butt off and dreaming that Talon and Reagan split and he’s running to me.

“Kayla?” Talon waves a hand in front of my face, and I blink a million times, slowly returning from my space journey. “Say something.”

“Why are you here?” Yes, that’s what spews from my mouth.

“Oh.” His face darkens to a shade of red I’ve only seen a couple of times from him. “Sorry. Yeah, I shouldn’t … I wanted to make sure … I needed to talk to you. But yeah. Totally get it. Sorry.”

He tries to shrug past me, but I block him. “Wait, I’m sorry. You can talk to me. I’m shocked, that’s all.”

“Honestly, so am I.” He smiles, and his face goes back to its normal color. He sure doesn’t look like he just got dumped. Or maybe he was the dumper. “Reagan hasn’t called, has she?”

I check my phone. “No.”

He pushes his lips together and nods. “Do you mind if we talk alone? I want to make sure this comes out right.”

My heart gets all wonky, like it’s tripping over a bunch of hurdles. I nod and lead him to my bedroom, ignoring the bizarro looks I get from Mom and Dad. I don’t blame them. I’m pretty damn confused myself.

“So,” I say, shutting the door behind him, “what happened?”

He gives a half shrug and slumps on the edge of my bed. “Come on, Kayla. You know things were shitty.” He goes face-first into my mattress, groaning. “Immsachadoosh.”

“What was that?”

He turns his head so his mouth isn’t muffled by my sheets. “I’m such a douche.”

What? “Why would you think that?” Talon is far from a douche.

“Because I am. I knew things weren’t working, and I kept dating Ray because I didn’t want to lose, you know, what we had.”

That made no sense whatsoever. He knew things sucked, but he didn’t want to lose them?

Apparently my mouth has been stuck in the open position, because he grimaces and says, “That came out weird.” Well, at least he agrees with me. “Let me try again. A few weeks ago, things sort of shifted in our relationship and I didn’t know how to get it back. But I didn’t want to break up because I didn’t want to ruin
our
”—he waves his forefinger between me and him—“friendship.”

He’s going to have to push my jaw back up.

Was I hallucinating when I saw them attacking each other the other night? What the hell happened in that room? Maybe the sex sucked? No, neither of them would be that selfish to dump each other over a lousy lay. Not like me and Wesley, who wiggled our way between our best friends just to take what we wanted. We’re the selfish ones.

Now that it’s happened, I’m not sure how I feel about it. My heart’s still pumping gallons of blood through my body with every thump, like,
Yay! This is happening!
But I’ve got a sick aftertaste in my mouth.

“So that’s why I wanted to talk to you. And Reagan said she wanted to talk to Wes. We don’t want this to break us
all
up. Do you think that even though she’s your best friend, me and you … we can still be tight?”

Mutual breakup, and Reagan’s not making me swear off the guys. They’re
encouraging
each other to still be friends. I may be naive in anything relationship-wise. But are they crazy? Or did Wesley and I pull this off way better than we planned?

This darn aftertaste is really starting to make me sick. This is good, but I can’t help but feel yucky about it. I wonder if Wesley feels the same way, or if he’s doing a fist pump and yelling “whoot-whoot” all over his room while Reagan smacks him for being insensitive. The image alone makes a small burst of laughter erupt from my mouth.

“Wow. Didn’t think it was that insane to ask, but okay.” Talon sits up, his face coming awfully close to mine. Out of habit I lean back.

“No, no. Sorry, I was thinking about something else … never mind. It’s stupid.” I elbow his shoulder, feeling super weird doing it. “But yeah, I think we can still be friends. I mean, it’s not like
we
dated, right?”

“Yeah, but Reagan and I know about that best-friend code or whatever. About exes and all. We’re saying screw the code. The four of us are the shit together.”

“For real.” I bite my tongue a little harder than usual. Okay, we’re still friends, but hello, weird! Where do we go from here? How can I act normal around him now that he’s available? I
was super bad when he wasn’t, and now … ack! Such pressure.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

I laugh, trying to relax next to him. “A little.”

“Sorry. I just … I can talk to you about this. Wesley would give me crap, and Reagan … well, we spent all night talking.”

He does look tired. And a little sad.

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“You witnessed the blowout.” He pauses, his face and ears going pink. I don’t mention that I also witnessed how quickly they made up. “We want different things. She’s not happy with me, and I don’t know what else I can give her. That’s it, I guess.” He stops again, his ocean eyes flicking to mine. “Even though I sort of knew it was coming, it still hurts.”

Be comforting, Kayla. He’s totally on the rebound, and you can’t screw this up by pouncing on him too fast
.

I close the two inches separating us. “Of course it hurts. You were together for a year. It’s okay to be upset about it.”

He sighs. “Is it okay to
not
be upset about it? Does that make me an awful person?”

I shake my head. He could never be an awful person.

His mouth quirks at the corner. “It hurts, but I’m not upset. I think I’m still trying to process it.”
That makes two of us
. “Thanks for listening. I guess I don’t have much to say about it.”

“That’s okay.”

He slowly stands, and I wish he’d talk to me more. Give me details other than they fought and couldn’t make up this time. But he’s so tired, and I’m sleepy too, and I really don’t want to push my luck. I’m damn lucky he came to me in the first place.

He pauses at the door, staring at it so long I think he may have fallen asleep.

“Talon?”

His fingers tap the knob, and he says, “I’m sorry about your gift.”

“What?”

“Your Christmas gift. I had something else in mind for you, but I didn’t want to offend Reagan by getting you something that might make her upset.”

“Why would it make her mad?”

“It was that bracelet I saw you eyeing. The one you said looked like your mom’s survivor one. Reagan would’ve flipped, you know? Thought there was something going on between us.” He half grins, and I can’t ignore the way his eyes go over my body. I’m not sure what’s so fascinating, because I spent the night in Wesley’s van, and I’m sure I look like the living dead. He gives me a full smile and his eyes go back up to my face. “In hindsight, I wish I would’ve
gotten it for you.”

If he had done that, I’m sure the reason for the breakup would’ve been because I would’ve attacked my best friend’s boyfriend in front of everyone. I almost want to do that right now. “It’s not a big deal. I liked what you got me.”

He shrugs. “Still.” His hand goes through his dark hair before landing back on the doorknob. “I’ll see you later? I’m sure Reagan is going to want to talk to you today, so I better run. But we can hang out later maybe?”

Hang out. Like a date? Or like normal? And is he talking only me and him or the four of us? Oh, complicated much?

Instead of asking all those questions, I say, “Sure.”

He leaves me with a smile and a tired wave, and I fall back on the bed. Where is my head? Am I happy? I don’t know. Am I sad? I don’t know. Do I even want Talon this way, if it means I had to backstab my friend? I don’t know!

Oh, Wesley. What did we just do?

Progress Report: December 27

I tried to sleep, but yeah … that’s not happening. Talon freaking Gregory was in my bed, telling me about his breakup, totally and completely vulnerable and oh so cute and oh so sad at the same time. I have no idea what to think. I need to talk to Wesley. I need him to console me or something, which is stupid! I’m not the one who should need consoling or calming down or any of that. This is what I wanted, damn it!

*Smacks face with progress journal*

Great, now I have ink on my forehead.

Anyway, I
did
try to call Wesley, but I hung up after one ring because he’d kill me. Talon told me Reagan was with Wesley, and how screwed up would it be if I call him instead of her first? I had my chance to hear Talon out, so I should give Wesley and Reagan their time alone. Which will be a lot longer since Reagan is a chatter whore.

You know what’s really messed up? I’m sort of jealous. Freaking
jealous!
Reagan is now talking to Wesley—even before me, her best friend for more than half her life—and yeah, I talked to Talon, but I couldn’t really figure anything out with him. Wesley seems to make everything okay and make sense. Now I can’t help but feel that’s going to change. It’s weird that it’s making me sad.

What is happening to me? I can’t even think straight. I’m tired and can’t sleep. I’m confused and can’t think. I feel happy, or sad, or guilty, or jealous, and it’s not even that time of the month.

Grr … when should I call Wesley so I can figure this out?

(Try not to question it.)

Reagan rode back to school with me while Talon took the spot in Wesley’s van. I’ve had zero time to talk with Wesley since the breakup, but at least there’s no worries about awkward silence with Reagan. From the time we left home until we got back to Berkeley, her mouth didn’t close. I’m surprised her voice didn’t go out.

We throw all of our luggage on the floor by our beds and flop down in unison. I get an instant gummy bear wave to my nostrils, since Wesley was the last person here. And my stomach flippity-flops in a weird way that makes me wonder if I need more sleep to get my head on straight.

Reagan has passed through all the stages of grief in the thirteen hours she’s been with me. She was laughing in her denial stage, saying, “Oh, he’ll call me within the hour begging for me to take him back! Just you wait for it, Kayla.” Then she poured the entire bottle of lube in the toilet at the gas station in hour six after yelling at the cashier for not allowing her to put M&M’
S
in her slushie. Hours ten and eleven she kept writing texts to Talon and deleting them before she sent them. I had to wrestle her phone away from her and nearly drove off an overpass. Then she cried until we got to our dorm, when I hugged her and let her get snot all over my new clothes. Now she’s staring contentedly at the ceiling with a small smile on her face.

“It’s weird, you know?” she says, pulling her shirt up and playing with her belly button ring. “I’m not even that sad.”

I don’t argue with her. Not worth it.

“I think I’m more relieved.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, Kayla?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She sits up, grabbing her toes and resting her chin on her knee. “The whole bra thing. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”

I laugh, kicking my feet up on the wall. “I know.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“I’ve had to deal with your embarrassing presents for years.” That, and at least I wasn’t the one opening
condoms
. “Besides, I could use a push-up.”

“It’s a cute one, right? And the front clasp helps with the cleavage.”

“I like it, Reagan. No worries.”