From The Wreckage - Complete (29 page)

She rests her head against the plastic window as West walks around the vehicle. He stops and turns and Jules sees Jess jogging up. She hands him the water bottles he gave her earlier and says something Jules can’t hear. They separate after a short exchange and she waves at Jules through the windshield before turning back to the party. 

Jules stares out the window until the interior lights go out and West’s key slides into the ignition. The blue glow of the dashboard lights illuminates his face as she turns to him. He sits still; resting his hands on the steering wheel and peering out the windshield.

“Will your parents be waiting up for you?”

“Waiting up for me?” She glances at the clock and realizes her curfew is almost up. “Oh. I doubt it. They don’t typically wait up for me anymore.”

“If I bring you home wasted they’re going to hate me,” West muses. His forearm muscles leap as he grips the wheel. 

She doesn’t know how to reply. 

The ride is quiet as they drive through downtown Tyler. It’s dark and mostly deserted, since most of the late night establishments were damaged in the storm. Staring out the window, Jules thinks about what she said to Aubrey and tears roll down her cheeks. When her breathing shakes and she sniffles, West breaks his silence.

His hand slips across the middle of the Jeep to touch her knee briefly. “You okay?

She suppresses the desire to break down and maintains her gaze at the scenery before replying in a broken whisper, “Yeah.”

The Jeep slows as West turns into her neighborhood and pulls to a stop in front of a house right inside the entrance. He shifts in his seat and she turns her body towards the door; trying to hide the tears from him, hide her pain. 

“We agreed to be honest with each other, remember?” He reaches across and tugs her arm away from where she grips her stomach. He lifts her hand and sandwiches it between both of his as he leans forward. “Jules?”

Her free hand goes to her mouth and she starts to sob. Not cry, but
sob
. A sloppy, drunken, whiny cry.

“You’re mad at me now, aren’t you?” she chokes out; slouching over. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go back! I hate them all, I hate this…why didn’t we just
die
?”

“Noooo,” he says breathily; moving for her. “Jules?” 

Her body stiffens when he moves his hand behind her neck and pulls sideways. Bringing her head towards him, he rests his forehead on her temple as she hiccups and blubbers on and on about mindless things.

“Look at me, West. The freaking
wind
scares me. The wind! I miss Tanya, I miss Hillsdale and my life before…I wish I could cheer again, I wish my brother would stop being scared of rain…I wish, I wish…” She swipes at her face and coughs. “And you know what? All the girls…they, they watch you like they want to eat you.” She turns her head and bumps noses with West; her eyes locking on his as their foreheads press together. “You’re like a damn chocolate bar they can’t say no to. It pisses me off…I’m not sharing!” she growls and clutches the fabric of his shirt in her fist. “I don’t share.”

The heavy scent of alcohol lingers between them and West smiles at her words. “Babe, I’m nobody’s chocolate.” 

“You’re my chocolate. Unless,” she pulls back and her lip quivers as she studies his face. “Unless you really
are
mad at me. Oh God, I’m sorry. She just made me so mad! I don’t know why, but I…”

Her eyes go wide as West covers her mouth with his hand. “Shush,” he orders. “I’m not mad at you and I couldn’t care less about Aubrey and her little minions.”

His eyes flick over to the dashboard clock and hers follow, noting the time. Eleven fifty-three. Pulling her forward with a light curse, he lowers his hand and kisses the tip of her nose. 

“We can talk about all of this tomorrow. For now, I need to get you home.” West keeps her hand in his as he drives through the neighborhood. “Deep breaths,” he reminds her; getting out and coming around the vehicle when they reach her house. 

With the exception of the front porch and the small foyer light shining through the glass on either side of the front door, the house is dark. They walk to the door and West waits for Jules to produce a key. Realizing she isn’t carrying a purse, he looks at the lock, seeing the keyless entry pad and nudges Jules to enter her code.

The pad beeps as she enters the four digit code and he opens the door silently, walking her into the foyer. He sighs with visible relief as they take in the silent house.

“Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe?” Jules asks; falling into his chest.

He gives her a squeeze. “I will, but I’m pretty sure you will be asleep in about five minutes.”

“No, I can’t sleep anymore,” she admits and his mouth turns under. Jules presses a kiss to his frown. 

“Babe, you taste like beer and JD…it’s kinda sexy,” he teases; kissing her again.

“The crying, shouting maniac isn’t so sexy, though,” she mutters and his hands run down her arms, winding around her fingers.

“The shouting, feisty girl is totally hot. The crying one makes me want to hold you and fix everything. No worries, I’m attached to these magic hands and your blue eyes, Jules Blacklin.” He places soft kisses on her knuckles. “One night of drunken antics won’t run me off.”

Music pulls her from a sound sleep. Jules stretches and pulls a pillow over her head. 

“Errrargh,” she growls, and her hand shoots out from the covers to slap at her alarm clock. The song keeps playing. Peeking out of her dark cocoon, her eyes blink rapidly; frantically trying to adjust to the bright light. She surveys her surroundings and her brain registers her room, her bed and the blinds she left open when she fell into her bed last night. That explains the bright light. It takes her another moment before she recognizes the incessant ringing of her cell phone. Rolling to the edge of the bed, she sees her discarded dress and boots on the floor in a pile. Hanging over the edge, her hand gropes around blindly for the phone as the electronic pop beat of her ring tone stops.

“Of course.”

Throwing her dress to the side, she finds the cell and rolls over to her back, looking at her missed calls. ‘1 missed call - Spike’ the screen reads, and Jules looks at the time. It’s after eleven in the morning. 

Eleven, and she slept through the night! 

She is completely ecstatic she didn’t have a nightmare about Tanya or the twister. It’s the first time she’s slept through the night without a dream of the event since it happened. Smiling and only half awake, she hits the call back button; closing her eyes as her head pounds in protest of her night. Her antics from the bonfire rush into her mind, and the happiness over her lack of nightmares disappears and makes room for embarrassment.

“Hey gorgeous, did I wake you?” West answers automatically on the second ring.

Her mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton as she tries to talk. “Hey, noooo, I’m awake.”

“Liar.” He laughs and her lips twitch. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’ll be okay. Nothing a few aspirin can’t help, right?”

“Right.”

“I owe you an apology, though. I’m so sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friends.” Jules scoots down under the covers as she apologizes and curls herself into a ball.

“Jules, they aren’t my friends — not really. I party with them but that’s it. I don’t care what they think. I’m sorry I woke you, though. I wanted to see how you’re feeling and make sure our date is still on for tonight.”

“You mean you’re still willing to go out with me? You’re brave.”

“Last night was nothing. I’ve seen and dealt with a lot worse as far as drunken rampages go. You were adorable.”

“Adorable, huh?”

He chuckles and something occurs to her. “Oh gosh, I called you my chocolate, didn’t I?” her voice squeaks.

His sharp bark of laughter brings all the blood rushing to her face. “Yes, you certainly did. Why do you sound like you’re in a tunnel?”

“I’m still in bed, under my covers,” she admits.

“Mmmm, really?” West drawls, his voice dropping low. “And what are you wearing?”

Jules laughs and the sound causes her to groan as the pain in her head hammers louder. “Ugh, don’t make me laugh!” she complains.

“Alright. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll pick you up around six tonight. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Jules climbs out of bed to use the restroom and take something for her hangover. She cups water into her palm and swallows two Advil, then takes a quick glance at herself in the mirror and cringes at what she sees. Her hair is a knotted mess, her eyes have large, dark circles under them and smeared mascara is caked to her lashes. Yet, as bad as she looks and feels, there is a calm within her. The absence of nightmares brings such relief, she wonders
Maybe they’re over?
Maybe she can move on now. She smiles at herself as she washes up, brushes her teeth and throws on some clothes before heading downstairs.

Spotting her dad at the table, she plasters on a smile as she walks into the kitchen with a cheerful, “Good morning.”

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” he counters; looking at his watch meaningfully. “How was the game last night?”

“Different,” Jules admits; pulling the fridge open and looking for something to eat. She glances over her shoulder to see her dad eating a sandwich and she sighs. She’s hungry, but a sandwich doesn’t sound appealing at all. Her stomach grumbles in protest and she quits entertaining the thought of eating anything for lunch. She pours a glass of orange juice instead, all the while feeling his eyes burn holes into her back.

“I watched the prep sports update last night; saw you won. A few of the boys were mentioned.”

“Oh?” What else was she supposed to say?

“They showed highlights from Houston too. Stuart played his first game.” He was looking at the iPad in front of him as he spoke, trying to seem nonchalant, but Jules knew he was up to something. “He was brilliant, from what they said. Almost perfect completion rate.”

She smiles, genuinely happy for Stuart. “Of course he was.” She should have wished him luck before the game, sent him a text or called, and a pang of guilt hits her.

“Did you talk to him this week?”

“Stuart? No.” He frowns and takes a bite of his sandwich.

Jules decides to set him straight. “I’m with West now.”

“Honey, I don’t want to interfere in your dating life, but are you sure? I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but…”

“But what, daddy? He’s not going to be a football star?” He raises his brows at her snippy comment and she turns away from him. “I’m sure, okay?”

The chair legs scrape across the kitchen floor when he stands and she peers out the window. Beyond her backyard the sky is black. Her father’s reflection pops into view in the glass as he comes up behind her and she braces herself.

“I want you to be happy, that’s all. If West is the boy you want to date then I’m fine with that, but I just want you to be sure. You’ve been through a lot of change.” He speaks softly and rests his hands on her shoulders. She spins and throws herself into her father’s chest; giving him a tight hug before she can think better of it. He gives her a tight squeeze and places a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m going to see if I can coax your brother into throwing a ball around before it rains.”

“It’s supposed to storm today?” Jules asks, worried for Jason’s sake. “Where’s mom?”

“Your mother went to the grocery store and yes, we are in for some serious storms later this afternoon and tonight. I’ve tried to keep him away from electronics this morning so he wouldn’t get overly worked up about it.”

“Maybe he should talk to a counselor about his fears?”

“We’ve talked about it. It’s a pretty normal fear to have after something so traumatic happens. He’ll come around, but if he doesn’t we will see someone.”

He starts to leave the kitchen when Jules thinks to tell him about her date.

“Oh hey, West asked me out on an official date for tonight. Six o’clock…okay?” He nods his approval, although without much excitement, and makes his way out of the kitchen. He stops at the last moment and peeks around the wall; looking at her again.

“If I were you, I’d take a shower and get rid of that beer smell before your mother gets home.” 

He levels his gaze on her in a silent warning before leaving without another word. Placing her glass in the dishwasher, she pulls her hair to her face and sniffs; smelling nothing. Hurrying to her room, Jules wonders how her dad knew and why he didn’t say anything more. She takes a long, hot shower, shampoos her hair twice and lets the heat soothe her neck and back muscles as she thinks about the bonfire. She decides to spend the afternoon doing some homework, taking a nap and searching the web. She gets more of the latter done; watching You Tube videos and pinning outfits on Pinterest as the day moves along slowly. Her phone goes off around four and she finds a green-faced emoji staring at her.

Katie: You were right - it was the kiss of death ;x

Jules: Oh no! Rough day?

Katie: Never drinking again!

Jules: <3 I have a date tonight with West. What are you doing?

Katie: Watching football at Jeff’s, his parents invited mom and me over 

Jules: That’s sweet of them 

Katie: How was the bonfire?

Jules: :/ 

Katie: That bad :(

Jules: Calling you

Jules explains everything from the previous night to Katie, who in turn proceeds to laugh at all of her drunken antics.

“I guess neither one of us were ready for last night, huh?” Katie suggests, and Jules knows what she means right away. They’d fooled themselves into thinking it would be easy to attend a game as a spectator for the first time in six years. Thinking they could cheer on a team that wasn’t
their
team anymore and see the cheerleaders, or hear the crowd and it wouldn’t affect them.

“It’ll get easier now. First time is always the hardest, isn’t that what they say?”

“Sure, whoever ‘they’ are,” Katie quips; making Jules laugh. 

They chat like old times about the boys and their nights before hanging up so Jules can get ready. Jules jumps from her bed to look for the perfect first date outfit and settles on her favorite jean capris with a petal pink blouse. The jeans say casual, but the ruffled tuxedo collar on the blouse makes it flirty and dressy. Washing her face, she applies a facial mask and plugs in her hair straightener. The butterflies in her stomach are on an all-out protest as she watches the minutes click closer and closer to six while fixing her hair. Rinsing the mask away, she applies make-up slowly; making each swipe of the brush or stroke of shadow exact. It’s while she’s lining her eyes that she remembers her mother’s make-up lessons when she, Katie and Tanya came home with bags of cheap products from the drug store one summer day.

“The trick is to look like you’re not really wearing anything,” she said; showing them each how to apply the perfect little circle of blush to the apples of their cheeks and sweep a nice, light brown over their lids.

“I want a smoky eye. How do you do a smoky eye, Ms. B?” Tanya asked; never content to just blend in. 

The memory makes Jules both happy and sad as she makes a small swoop at the edge of her eye. Satisfied with her face, she adds curls to the ends of her long, straight hair for a little bounce. Surveying her work, it dawns on her that she put more effort into her appearance tonight than she has since junior prom. Her stomach growls, reminding her she hasn’t eaten all day.
Shoot
! She stresses and quickly shoots a text to West. “I haven’t eaten yet, and I completely forgot to ask if we would be getting dinner. We don’t have to; I can eat now. I just wanted to check.” She feels horrible because she doesn’t want to imply he should spring for dinner. He never said what they would be doing.

He responds back quickly: ‘Of course I’m feeding you! I’ll see you soon.’

She finishes off her outfit with a simple bracelet and matching necklace and is heading downstairs to wait when the doorbell rings.

She assumes West is early and calls out, “I’ll get it.” Taking deep breaths, she makes herself take each stair tread one at a time as Jason runs from the living room.

“I’ve got it, Jase,” she warns him; picking up her pace down the stairs.

Jason looks over his shoulder and shakes his head; antagonizing her as he reaches the door first and hollers, “It’s the pizza guy!”

“Pizza?” she echoes dejectedly as she takes in the delivery guy’s red shirt and hat. She throws her hair over her shoulder, takes the boxes and gives him a polite smile. She asks him to hang on before seeing her dad walk into the foyer with a check. Letting him deal with the payment, she moves to carry the pizza into the kitchen as Jase pushes into her and tries to grab the boxes from her hands. She lifts them over his head; teasing him as he growls at her.

“Let me carry them, Jules. I opened the door!” he shouts; his voice rising in angry octaves with each word.

“Quit, punk — you’ll make me drop them!” she huffs when his hands hit her arm.

“Good evening, Mr. Blacklin.”

Jules freezes. She’s in the middle of kicking Jase in the leg when she hears the smooth-like-chocolate voice in the doorway behind her.

“West,” her father acknowledges. She blows out a frustrated sigh at being caught fighting with her little brother and plasters a smile worthy of a Miss America contestant on her face as she turns. Jase whoops; abandoning her and the pizza he no longer cares about as he rushes to West’s side.

“West! Did you come to watch movies with us? We’re going to eat pizza…if Jules will give it up,” he adds with a frown; his little brows lowering over his blue eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey man.” West messes with Jason’s hair and lifts his gaze to Jules; his warm eyes fastening on hers as he speaks to her brother. “You were going about it all wrong, young padawan,” he tells him in a hushed tone. Jules watches in curiosity as West leans down and whispers advice of some sort into Jase’s ear. Her brother’s eyes go round as saucers as he listens and a Cheshire grin takes over his face. When West straightens, Jase walks towards her with a smile still plastered on his face. He peeks over his shoulder once and West nods. Her dad is still standing behind West, trying to keep a straight face. Finally, Jase steps before her, raises his hand and presses his pointer and middle fingers together. He swipes them through the air slowly from left to right while speaking in a deep voice, “You
will
give me the pizza.”