Recklessly (36 page)

“Brody…just go,” Lana begged. “Please. Please just go.”

“We can go right after I see him break. So, not yet.”

“What?” Lana asked, sounding frightened.

“I want to see Mr.
I Don’t Give A Shit About Anything Because I’m So Cool and Perfect and Everyone Loves Me
…break to fuckin’ pieces.” He looked over to Wes, eyes narrowed but alight with his hunger to inflict damage.

“Brody, please don’t do this…” Lana begged. “Please! Please!”

“…Break, Deuce...” He bared all his teeth, looking maniacal. “
Break.
Break!”

Oh? Was that it? He wanted to see him
break
? Have a fucking public meltdown? Done. Wes had always been a great performer, so he released all the emotions he’d been holding in since San Diego, and it was like being sucked into a black vortex made entirely of pent-up pain and aggression.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! You motherfuckin’ asshole! You stupid, fucking asshole! I hate you!” He thrashed, though under the control of his friends who were all holding him back. “I hate you so fucking much. You jealous, douchebag asshole! I will fucking
break
your face the next time I see you!”

Lana struck Brody on the arm. “Brody, please just go!” She pleaded in a tearful voice, screaming at his face. “Just
fucking
go! Go! Go! Fuck!” And with a squeal of the tires, the Escalade finally tore out of the parking lot.

Chapter 12 Party all the Time

The water on his back was scalding, but Wes couldn’t rally any energy to shift his position from where he sat in the shower, so he just mentally pushed past the pain. There was another kind he had to contend with anyway. His emotional well-being was in ruins, his body drained and quivering. It was nightmarish. But he couldn’t stop replaying over and over in his head everything that had happened a few hours ago. Lana had left with Brody. Lana left.
Left.
Gave up.
“
We jumped. We crash-landed.
”
Yeah, right on my goddamn spirit.

His desire to speak to her had wavered and strengthened and waned so many times since arriving home that the constant, erratic jolting of his feelings had left him too crazed to stay awake, so he had slept until he got in the shower a few minutes ago. The longer he sat in there, the more the clenching in his chest subsided, allayed by shock, but there was still an ache buried in there somewhere, growing and twisting and threatening to drown him.

It would come later, and he wouldn’t be prepared. He knew that.

“Okay, I’m not doing this tonight, though,” he said out loud. “No fucking way. Might as well enjoy being kinda numb while I can.” His friends were laughing and joking and drinking downstairs, and he wanted to hang out with them, he wanted what they had right now. Back in his room, he put on board shorts and a t-shirt, and grabbed the bottle of Grey Goose that had helped him pass out earlier. It was pressed to his lips when he descended the staircase, and like falling dominos, silence drifted from one guy to the next as they turned their eyes to him.

“Oh no, we’re not about to play the
Let’s Get Quiet When Wes Walks Into the Room
game. “How was the surf?” They had actually stuck with their plan to go out drunken surfing, apparently, and Abel cranking his shoulder in a circle had just reminded him.

“Good. How do you feel, Deuce?” Abel asked.

“Like my girl left me…” Wes shrugged and lifted the bottle to his lips.

“Hit me,” Kai offered and Wes spit his liquor to the floor involuntarily.

“Dude, what?” he set the bottle down, laughing with uncertainty about the seriousness of the statement.

“
Come on
, get it out of your system. Hit me. Just be gentle with my moneymaker; my girl likes me pretty…”

“I’m not going to hit you, Kai.”

“Dude, just do it…” Christian said. “Hit him.”

“Do it,” Leko chimed in.

“I’m not going to
fucking
hit him…” Wes said.
I might not stop.
Who knew what it would unleash.

“Okay, but you need to do something, dude.” Kai tried to deflect the traces of worry melding with his features by grinning. “Come on…let’s go get you a tattoo. It’s on me.”

“No, Kai…”

“What can I do, dude?”

“Drive me to Orange County to kill Brody,” Wes said without a laugh.

“Bring a carpet…” Christian said.

“And wear gloves…” Abel added. Finally, Wes managed to laugh but his friends all stared at him as if they expected him to break into tears. He didn’t cry in general, and he didn’t feel anything enough
to
cry, anyway. Plus, he wanted to break things instead.
Break.
Oh, that’s what
she’d let him do in front of Brody. How would he ever live that down?

“What…? What are you guys doing? Why are you sitting around the table like this, facing me? What the fuck is this?
The View?
No one died. Stop looking at me like someone did.”

              “Okay, you’re right, no one died, but seriously, what can we do to help you, baby bro?”

“Death! Wait! That’s it! We’re having a funeral! Pull out your phones, boys. Call everyone you know. Invite the mourners! Tweet. Facebook. Skywrite that shit. Let’s bury my fucking heart!”

He could always count on his friends and his brother. The house was packed within several hours later that night, and it was a combination of familiar faces and some random people he had yelled to from his patio. Leko was killing it as the DJ, and Wes was drunk and dancing sloppily with Kiera against the wall. He was leaning against it and she was, well, leaning forward
.
He tuned out for a minute as he wondered what Lana was doing and where she was, but it wasn’t worth attempting to ask. Her phone was off, and he’d given his phone to Abel and told him that no matter how much he begged for it tonight, not to give it back to him.

Something warm brushed his neck, and Wes snapped back to reality. Kiera’s mouth was pressed to the hollow at his collarbone and her fingers were dipping into the front of his shorts.

“Okay…wait. No.
Nooooo
.” Wes stepped to the side and held his hands up.

“I thought you and
Vices Hollywood
broke up.”

“We did. And her name’s Lana, dude.”

“Well, isn’t that the point of all this? To start having
fun
again? Don’t you miss our fun?”

“I never fuck my pain away, Kiera…I
drink
it.” Kai was signaling him, which gave him an excuse to walk away, and as soon as he got closer, Dylan jumped out from behind a wall.

“Whoa! You’re flying in mourners!” he said to Kai as he kissed Dylan on the cheek. “Hi, darlin’!”

“Lift your fucking cups, everybody! Wesley Abraham Elliott is back on the market!” Leko shouted from the corner of the room, and the crowd around Wes erupted into cheers beneath a cover of raised red Solos.
Ray-fucking-rah
, Wes thought.

“Oh, geez, are we about to be stampeded by women?” Dylan asked.

“Not if Kiera kills them all first…” Wes grabbed Dylan’s hand. “Hide me.”

“No funny business,” Kai teased, handing them both drinks before Wes led Dylan upstairs and into his private bathroom. He locked it and leaned against the door, his head hanging. At least with Dylan, he wouldn’t feel obligated to be his regular self.

“Kai filled me in a little bit. So, she hasn’t called you at all since—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dyl.”

“Okay, Wes. What do you want to—”

“I don’t want to talk about how I begged her not to go, in front of everyone I fucking know and respect because I love her more than I needed my dignity
.
I just wanted this to work so bad, Dyl. I wanted
it.
I wanted
her.
I just wanted her
so badly.
I was willing to deal with the pain of her leaving me fucked up in San Diego because love hurts, right?” He shook his head. “Shit, Dyl. Kai had to pick me up from the fucking pavement after they drove away.”

“He didn’t…he didn’t tell me…” Dylan said after she gulped down, and her eyes rounded to globes. Her arms suddenly pulled him in, and he sank silently against her small frame. She was squeezing so hard, like she had reasoned she could absorb his anguish, like she was willing to share it, just to make it ache less.

“And I’m mourning all of it. Not just what we developed, but everything before that, too. We had something amazing from the beginning, and it all got tainted the minute she sat in that car with
him
, regardless of her reasons. So, I don’t want to talk. I want to drink until I forget my name and everything before today…okay? Until I stop fucking loving Lana Langston. So, cheers! Let’s drink to
that
shit!”

“Yup. No talking. I got it. Cheers,” Dylan said as she sat with her back against the cabinets, and he slid down the door. They sat like that without speaking, but with her staring at him with an expression so compassionate, he finally felt something.

Too bad it was despair. “Hey, Dylan?”

“Yes, Wesley…”

“I don’t tell you enough, but I’m glad I dumped you ‘cause you were better suited for Kai, and you didn’t mind ending up with someone sub-Elliott.” He took a sip from his drink and snatched hers away.

She burst out laughing. “Uh…you’re welcome? I love you, too, Wesley...thanks for, uh,
dumping
me.”

“You know…it’s only fair as my friend, if we sit here like this that you have something to worry over, too.”

“Uh, like what…?”

“Like how I helped Kai buy a
really
big sparkly ring in Berlin in January…” Wes pushed up to a standing position with a huge smile and her mouth fell open as he walked out of the bathroom.

“Wes!” Dylan called after him but she halted her trailing steps when they both saw Kiera standing in his doorway, pointing eyes at Dylan that were expectant of her departure. “I’m going to murder you. Not a threat but a bona fide promise,” Dylan added as she sauntered out. “Dismemberment.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dylan Carroll.”

Wes crashed down onto his bed, eyes closed, indulging in how much his sheets still smelled like Lana. He heard the whine of his door as it closed, and the bed shifted suddenly when Kiera sat down. His eyes flapped open, gaze catching the Shakespearean anthology on his desk, the last book Lana had brought him, as he reached for the unopened can of Lava Energy on his nightstand.
We’re reading MacBeth and Hamlet. Get ready! The original whiny dudes of literature,
her Post-It had said.

“Hey, Kier—Whoa! Okay!” Wes yelled as her hand moved up his thigh for the waistband of his board shorts.

“What?”

“Can we talk?”

“About what?”

“What was the last book you read? Like the last
really
great book you read. One that you wanted to tell everyone you know about it?”

Kiera sat up, eyebrows raised. “You’re really turning down a blowjob? You had to
beg
me to give you them when we were fooling around. You’re getting a freebie.”

“Uh, I don’t want one.”

“Why?”

Wes sat up on his forearms after pulling his shorts back up. “
Because I’m sad
.”

“Good, it’ll make you feel better…” Kiera trailed off into a smirk and Wes scowled.

“Do you know how fucked up it is to be sad and then use sex to make you not sad? Ugh. So, there’s not one book you’ve read that you love enough to talk to me about? Really? We used to talk about books sometimes.”

“Oh, I only did that because you liked it. I’d be on Sparks Notes on my phone half the time trying to keep up. I would normally tune out and just agree with your thoughts a lot of the time.”

Wes laughed. “At least you’re honest.” Following a sigh, he added, “I don’t want to kick you out, Ki, but I want to be alone right now.” Not true, he just didn’t want her in there in case she pounced again.

Kiera didn’t object, which he appreciated, but he saw her gaze land on the anthology on his desk on the way out. “‘
Love, Lana.’
You and
Vices Hollywood
just fit together, huh? That night we were there, I followed you down the stairs and saw you two during the karaoke. You’re always having fun, but you looked like you were having a lot of fun with her. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah…” As she left, Dylan barreled back into the room, a glare keeping her face tight. “Were you waiting out there?” Wes asked.

“Uh, yeah, cause I can’t look at Kai right now, knowing what I know about
rings
…and plus, my BFF is struggling.” She sat next to him. “Um, did you and Kiera…?”

“Oh God no. She tried to give me a blowie though...” Wes laughed. “Like
really
tried.”

Dylan rubbed his arm. “I know it just happened today, but I’m worried about you, Deuce. You know partying isn’t going to help you deal with this, right?”

Like he didn’t know he was plugging a metaphorical breach in a structurally weak dam with his finger. “Yeah, baby doll, but it stops me from thinking about what will happen when I actually have to.”

So with Abel being far too accommodating, Wes set himself on an
Avoid.
Party
.
Repeat
cycle, surviving on Lava Energy and liquor, for the next few days (because who mourned
anything
just
one
day?), with his nights landing him sleepless on the couch because he began to dread how much his room reminded him of her: her books, her painting supplies, her scent. It was all too much. He had stopped going out on the balcony since her easel was out there, and he still hadn’t decided what to do with it. He sent her a text or called every day even though he knew it was a fruitless exercise. And it sent him into deeper despair at her absence, at the loss.

He was skipping training with Ian, deciding he was too irritable to be screamed at for two hours every day, but he was surfing daily and mostly keeping the same workout routine on his own since he still planned to compete in Bali. On Sunday morning, a full week after the breakup, he returned from the beach, preparing to send out another mass text for tonight’s party, when he spotted a pair of women’s tennis shoes by the stairs.
Charlotte.
Abel wasn’t back from training yet, but Wes figured it wasn’t worth risking Charlotte walking out the door without speaking to her about what was going on with her.