Chapter Sixteen
At least running next to him meant I wasn’t running from him, that was progress… right?
Kiersten
When Wes said we should go running, I mistakenly thought he meant jog. You know, as in go kinda slow, not like a bat out of hell.
The guy wasn’t even talking.
But he was sweating.
So I guess it was a good trade off, especially considering he’d opted to run without a shirt. I, however, had to look much less than sexy as I gasped for breath next to him.
“We’re crossing something off your list right now, you know,” he said in a perfectly normal voice.
My side sliced with pain as I wheezed out, “Oh yeah, what?”
“You want off your anti-depressants.”
“So you’re…” I coughed. “Trying…” Holy crap I was going to pass out. “…to kill me?”
“Negative.” He chuckled. Seriously. How. Was. He. Breathing? “Studies show that hard exercise, the kind that evokes physical pain, actually releases happy chemicals in your brain which heal emotional as well as physical pain. Kind of like a drug. Running is the quickest and most efficient way to get those happy chemicals in your body. You start running, and I guarantee that you’ll feel better, possibly good enough to go off your drugs.” He stopped running. Thank God.
I bent over and held up my hand. “I need a minute.”
He patted my sweaty back and chuckled. “The thing is, Kiersten, drugs aren’t bad. They’re there to help you.”
“They give me nightmares.”
“So sleep with me.”
“They make me feel weak.” I exhaled another breath.
“Only because you’re looking at it the wrong way.”
I waited for his usual wisdom. Seriously, was the guy a shrink in another life?
“Just because you need help to cope doesn’t make you any less strong. The truly weak people in this life are the ones who can’t admit they need help. They’re the ones who can’t admit that they can no longer go at it alone. Those are the people who are weak. By asking for help, by taking help, you’ve just admitted your weakness and in that, you find your strength. The weak of the world are those who think they’ve got it all figured out and flaunt it to others.”
I paused a minute and then looked up. He was grinning from ear to ear.
“When did you get so smart?”
Wes shrugged as a bead of sweat ran down his jaw. “Lots of therapy. Believe me. You can’t go to therapy your whole life and not walk away with at least a little good advice.”
I snorted. “Clearly I need to switch therapists.”
“Great, because I take appointments, and dates are my currency, so pay up.”
“Friends don’t date.”
He squinted against the sun and laughed. “Sure they do.”
I bit down on my lip and told my heart to stop doing cartwheels across my chest. “That wasn’t on my list.”
“The date is.”
“Is it?” I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He was a freaking expert at peeling back all of my carefully erected walls.
“This weekend. Friday. You and me. Date.”
I looked away, trying to at least make it appear like I wasn’t ready to jump all over him and scream yes in his face. Of course, the guy had girls throwing themselves at him. Just walking with Wes got me weird stares and gaping looks from the entire female population.
“Okay,” I said in a small voice. “But only as friends.” I held out my hand to shake his.
He nodded and took my small hand captive in his. “At least you shake my hand now. A few days ago I was convinced I’d have to show you how like John Smith did to Pocahontas.”
“Funny.”
“Aren’t I?” He chuckled and pulled my hand so that we were almost chest to chest.
“I’m sweaty.”
“Yup.”
“And I — I smell.” Wow, way to scare him off.
Wes leaned in and sniffed the side of my head.
“Are you sniffing my skin?”
He shrugged. “You said you smelled. Just trying to prove you wrong.”
“So I don’t smell?”
“No…” He still hadn’t moved his face. My breath quickened when I felt his intake of breath across my neck. “You smell, but it’s a sweaty smell. I happen to like sweat.”
“Charmer.” My voice sounded airy and foreign.
And then a wet tongue touched just below my ear as his lips grazed the side of my face. “Absolutely.”
Before I could slap him or push him away or roll my eyes, a ringing sounded. He stepped back and pulled out a sleek new iPhone. “What?”
I waited awkwardly while the smile fell from his face.
“No, its fine. Not a problem. Yeah, I’ll… I’ll be there.” He put the phone back in his pocket and zipped it up, then like a switch he was happy again.
“You okay?” I crossed my arms.
“Fine, why?” He started walking back up the path toward the school.
“Phone call, sad face. You know, tension in your voice. That sort of thing.”
“Oh. That.” Wes didn’t meet my gaze as we made our way through the last part of the trail and back onto school property. “No big deal, just drama with my dad, you know how parents can be. Sometimes they just annoy the hell out of you because they can.”
I froze.
“Kiersten?” Wes touched my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
I opened my mouth but all that came out was a gasp, and then I started running all over again.
Because the last time I’d talked to both my parents we’d gotten into a fight, an epic fight, about me wanting to go to my first party as a sophomore in high school.
“Kiersten!” Wes called after me, but I kept running focusing on the slap of my shoes against the cement. Left, right, left, right. I needed to get away.
I ran all the way up the huge concrete stairway that led to the dorms until finally I collapsed onto the ground scraping my knee in the process.
“Crap!” Blood trickled down my leg and pooled in my shoe. Tears burned at the back of my throat as I tried to keep myself from hyperventilating.
“Kiersten!” Wes was immediately by my side, must have paced along behind me. He ripped part of my shirt and blotted the scrape alternating between blowing on it and trying to stop the bleeding. “What the hell was that? You scared the shit out of me. In fact, you’re still scaring the shit out of me. What’s wrong?”
I tried to jerk free from his grip, but he was too dang strong. I refused to meet his gaze.
“Talk to me.” Wes’s voice was gentle and coaxing. “I know it was something I said.”
I nodded.
“About parents?”
I nodded again.
“What happened?”
“They’re dead.”