A Boy Like You (Like Us Book 1)(25)

For the next ten minutes, we run around the driveway, using their truck  for protection, and take turns spraying and laughing. This is what it  must be like to grow up in a house full of brothers. The joy in my chest  is intense, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

The water war finally breaks up when an older sedan pulls up next to the  truck, and a heavyset man with a full mustache and beard steps out.  He's carrying a box under one arm as he moves around the front of his  car and eyes the boys' truck.

"You know, the cleaning thing only works if you actually get the water  on the truck right?" he says, teasingly, quirking one eyebrow at Wes.

I'm standing behind the truck with my arms folded over the bed when he  notices me. The man's lips grin, and he glances over at Wes's brothers.

"Well she's too pretty for you hooligans. Anyone want to fill me in on  our guest?" He hands the box to Wes, then dusts his hands against his  belly, wiping away dust and dirt from whatever he was carrying.

"This is Joss. She's coach's daughter," Levi answers. Wes busies himself  with the box, letting his brother's answer stand on its own. I don't  know why, but I want him to say more, to make me … more. I'm not coach's  daughter-I'm something to Wes. I have to be.

"Nice to meet you, Joss. You stayin' for lunch?" he asks, pulling his  glasses to the tip of his nose and looking at me over the rims.

"Oh, no … it's okay. I was just stopping by," I say, remembering my lame  card and chocolate, which is probably both drenched and melted in the  driveway.

"You should stay," Wes says, not looking away from the box. His  shoulders are stiff, and the fact that he's refusing to look at me  almost means more than if he did. My lip pulls up into a smile against  my will, and my tummy goes all butterfly gooey. I hate it. I love it.

"Okay. Uhm … yeah, sure. Thanks," I say, smiling and nodding to the man. I  still don't know his name, but I'm too awkward to ask, and I'm pretty  sure my bra is outlined through the shirt I'm wearing.

TK and Levi throw a few more wet sponges at each other, but pick up the  buckets and walk over to Wes, looking in the box with him.

"Sweet. Dad got the part," Levi says, pulling out some shiny chrome something that I'm guessing is for the truck.

"I'll work on it next weekend," Wes says, dropping the part back in the box and carrying it into the garage.

"See ya inside, Joss," TK says, smacking Levi on the back of the head as he takes off toward the house, Levi running after him.

Wes walks back out toward me when the garage door shuts behind him, his  brothers leaving us alone. My body shivers once from the breeze blowing  against my wet skin.

"Your dad seems nice," I say.

Wes smiles with a short nod, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he  steps to the front of the truck, leaning against it. He dips his head  forward and runs his hand through his hair, pushing the wild strands  back from his eyes.

"He is. I'll introduce you the right way when we go inside," he says,  his eyes not quite making it to mine, glancing away from my body and  darting around the truck and front yard. The outdoors suddenly feels  suffocating, and I can't think of the next thing to say. Wes fills the  gap for me.         

     



 

"Don't forget whatever you have in the bag, over there?" He points to  the end of the driveway, and my stomach grows tight remembering my  original plan. It feels even sillier now.

"Oh, yeah. That's … I sort of … I brought something for you," I say, holding  up a finger and jogging to the back and bringing it to the front of the  truck. I stop closer to Wes and set the bag on the hood. He watches my  hands, but still seems to be avoiding my eyes. He takes a deep breath  and covers his mouth with his palm.

"Here," I say, handing him the card and a very heavy package of Reese's.  "It's a thank you card. It's … it's dumb. I didn't really know what else  to do though, so … "

"It's nice. Thanks," he says, taking the card and dragging the melted candy bar closer to him along the hood.

"I didn't really think through the chocolate," I say with a light laugh.  Wes chuckles too, picking the bar up and holding it on top of the  envelope.

"I'll put it in the freezer," he says, his eyes finally sliding over to  meet mine. They halt there, and I don't move or breathe under their  scrutiny. I keep my embarrassed half smile in place as my fingers work  against my palms in awkward fists at my sides, my heartbeat speeding up  the longer Wes's eyes hold me hostage. They are blue and perfect and  exactly as I imagine them when I close my own.

Slowly, his gaze falls to my mouth and chin and then to my chest and  shirt, and I notice his lip twitch as he stares at the rest of me for  longer than I think he wants to, eventually bringing his hand back over  his mouth as his eyes flit to meet mine.

"I have some dry clothes you can wear," he says, and my eyes shoot wide  in realization. I glance down and see my breasts on full display, every  curve of my body obvious as my wet clothes cling to my skin. The cold  air has made my nipples hard, and I am overcome with the fact that Wes  was staring at them.

"Oh my god," I say, folding my arms and leaning against the warm truck. I  lay my head forward and rest it against the hood, rolling it away from  him, wanting to die.

Oh my freaking God!

"Come on," he chuckles, reaching for my hand and forcing it into his. He  turns his back to me, but tugs me along behind him. "Just stay close to  me."

I step closer, until my front touches his back, and Wes pauses when our  bodies meet. He sighs, and I lean my head against him, feeling both  mortified and turned on from this touch.

"I'm so sorry," I squeak out, feeling his body rise and fall with his long breath.

"You're a beautiful girl. Don't be sorry," he says, his head tilted to  the side enough that I am given the gift of looking at the line of his  jaw and chin. His eyes glance over his shoulder and meet mine briefly  before he inhales once more and leads me through the door while I replay  what he said over and over.

Beautiful girl.

"Sandwiches okay with you, Wes?" his father hollers from the other end  of the house. I can hear pans and cabinets moving and opening.

"That works," Wes yells back, looking side to side, I'm assuming for his brothers, as we step into what is clearly their room.

"Your friend okay with that?" his dad yells, a hint of teasing to his tone.

Wes winces as he shuts his eyes tight, leaning his head out the door,  but looking back at me quickly first. "You okay with that? It's probably  ham or turkey. It's always ham or turkey," he whispers.

I nod and laugh to myself silently.

"Yeah, Joss likes sandwiches. Thanks. We'll be in to help in a sec. Just  drying off!" He closes the door carefully, resting his head against the  wood. I'm standing behind him with my arms still folded, and I swear I  can feel the pull of something bigger trying to push us together. Wes  presses the lock in before turning away from me and moving to a set of  drawers, pulling out a dry pair of sweatpants. He takes a few steps  backward and bends down to pick up a black hoodie and two shirts that he  holds to his nose.

"You weren't kidding about your room," I say through my grin he can't see.

"Yeah, we're fuckin' pigs. Sorry about this," he says, throwing his  first selection of shirts into a pile in the corner and picking two more  up from the floor.

He's finally satisfied with a gray one and he turns to the side, handing everything to me.

"These are clean … ish," he says, shaking his head with a short laugh, still careful not to look my way.

"Thanks," I say. "You know, I'm still clothed. You can look at me now."

Wes chuckles again and steps to his door, opening it and resting his forehead against the edge, peeking at me briefly.         

     



 

"I better not, Joss," he says, tapping his knuckles a few times against  the wood grain and laughing as he turns away. "I better not. I'll wait  for you out here."

The door closes behind him, and my smile comes hard and fast. I really  like this boy. I bring his clothes to my face and inhale, happy that his  things smell like him. I slip my wet clothes from my body, including my  soaking bra and panties, and step into Wes's sweatpants and shirt,  letting the soft material hug my body.

Before I pull his sweatshirt over my head, I pull out a few new bandages  from my drug store bag and replace the wet ones on my arm, throwing the  old one in my bag and tying it shut. I gather my pile of wet things in  my arms, stepping through his door to find him leaning against the  opposite wall and waiting for me in a dry shirt of his own. He smiles  the kind of smile that meets his eyes and leans his head to the side as  he looks at me.

"Thanks for letting me borrow this stuff. Do you have a plastic bag or  something? I'll just put my shoes in your yard or something to dry," I  say, trying to hold my wet belongings away from my now-dry self.