Come Friday (Bishop Family Book 8) Page 7

  "It's all right," he said. "I feel bad for making you feel bad about your date. I shouldn't have been so selfish."

  I was happy he was still here. I was happy to see him, but part of me was disappointed—the part of me that wanted him to be jealous rather than apologize for being selfish.

  "I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me," I said. I reached out and tugged on his arm. "Let's just do it in here so I can finish getting ready."

  Wes stood with his back against my bathroom wall, and then slid down, landing on his bottom, sitting right next to my bathtub with his knees in the air. I turned to face him as I dried my hair rather than staring at myself in the mirror. I turned it on 'low' so that it wasn't too loud.

  "You smell like fruit," he said, speaking loudly enough to overcome the sound of the dryer.

  I smiled. "It's my shampoo," I said.

  Wes stared at me for a few seconds. I wasn't trying to do anything cheesy like act sensuous or impress him with my blow-drying skills. In fact, quite the opposite was true. I probably seemed pretty unappealing at the moment. I had on no makeup and some pajamas that didn't even match. I tilted my head to the side and used my hand as a comb to aid in my blow-drying efforts.

  "I think you're right about me going home soon," he said, still speaking loudly. "It's not every day your brother has a kid."

  "Two kids," I said.

  He nodded. He adjusted the way he was sitting, pulling his feet closer to his bottom where he could rest his arms on his knees. He stared up at me with a thoughtful but otherwise unreadable expression.

  "Ivy's gonna be a senior in college," he said. "I can't believe how time passes. I can't believe she's almost done."

  I could see the concern and maybe even guilt in his eyes. "I think it's a great idea for you to go home," I said.

  The selfish side of me wanted to discourage him from doing it because, the truth was, I would miss him. We had spent a lot of time together during the last three months, and I would truly miss my throwing partner. He had become one of my best friends.

  "I could take your brother," he said, surprising me.

  I shot him a confused look that made him smile.

  "He would love it," Wes said. "You know how much he loves Bishop bikes. He would love seeing where it all started."

  I turned off the dryer. The hot air combined with the unexpected conversation caused me to flush. It was warm outside, and my hair could just dry the rest of the way naturally. I set the dryer down and began digging in my cosmetic bag.

  "You cannot take my brother on your trip," I said impassively.

  "Why not? He would love it."

  "I know. That's the point. And they would love him. They'd want to give him a job, and he'd move to Memphis and leave us both. I need my brother, and you need him here, too. Who else would constantly fix that piece of junk of yours?"

  "You're just jealous because you want to move to the States."

  "You're right, I do," I said. "And I will eventually. But until then, I'd like to keep my brother around. You know as well as I do that if he ever set foot in the place where Bishop started, he wouldn't want to leave."

  "My dad would really love him," Wes said. "So would Doozy."

  I knew who Doozy was. Michael Bishop—Wes's grandfather, the man who started the whole company.

  "That's exactly why he's not going with you. It's a match made in heaven, and we both know it. Don't even ask him, Wes. He needs to stay here. Our parents are here, and he's got a girlfriend. Just go by yourself like you normally do."

  "Then you come with me."

  "No," I said, rubbing a sponge full of weightless foundation on my face.

  "Why not?"

  "Because it's not appropriate. You have a girlfriend, and it doesn't look right for you to take your friend home to meet your parents before you take her. Just take Shea."

  "They all know you by now, anyway," he said.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, thinking he was joking around.

  "They've all seen your videos."

  I turned and looked at him. "What? How?"

  He shrugged. "I showed them. I told my mom I was learning how to throw knives, and I forwarded her your videos. She showed everyone else. My brothers are really competitive. They're probably gonna learn how to do it just to outdo me."

  "You're kidding."

  He shook his head, wearing a not-so-regretful smile.

  "You can tell them you're learning how to throw knives but you can't tell them you’re a musician? You can't tell them that you write songs and play sold out shows?"

  "If I told them that, they would want to get involved. My grandmother and Courtney. Both of them would pull strings for me."

  "So, let them," I said. "String-pulling is good, Wes. You need strings pulled. You're good enough. You should go to next level."

  He sighed as he let his head rest against the wall. "It's not that I'm afraid to move forward with my music, Jo. It's just that I don't know if I'm ready to let the two worlds collide—ya know—the life I have here and the life I had back home. Part of me just enjoys being a broke musician. I kinda like the anonymity."

  "Ya think?" I said sarcastically since that was an understatement.

  We shared comfortable silence for the next few minutes. I put on a little blush and powder and then curled my eyelashes before applying a coat of mascara.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked, finally.

  "I was thinking about your brothers learning how to throw knives. That'd be crazy if they did."

  "They're married," he said.

  "What's that have to do with it? Married guys can throw knives just as good as unmarried ones."

  "It's just that you said you were thinking about my brothers, so I figured I'd warn you that they were married."

  Again, that feeling of utter and complete joy welled in my soul when I realized that Wes Bishop was jealous. He was jealous over me. What in the world? I did not let my excitement show at all. In fact, I did the opposite. I squinted at him.

  "I'm not standing here daydreaming about your brothers, Wes. I know they're married. One to Courtney and the other to Darcy. I'm not that kind of girl."

  "Obviously," he said in a sarcastic, somewhat frustrated tone. "I barely have a girlfriend and you treat me like I have the plague."

  "The plague? Really, Wes? You come over to my house just about every other day."

  "Yeah, but if I take a step toward you, you take a step back."

  I stared at him in disbelief. I wanted to tell him that those were measures I had to take in order to keep myself from falling to pieces in his presence—but he already knew that, didn't he?

  "I need to get dressed," I said. "I have to leave in like three minutes."

  He stood up. "I'm probably gonna hang out and use the wall for a little while if you don't mind."

  "That's fine," I said, stashing my cosmetic bag in the cabinet. "Just lock up when you leave."

  Chapter 10

  Colton was a really nice guy.

  He was a software engineer who worked in my office building. I ran into him in the elevator (or lift as everyone around here called it) several times before he finally talked to me. I could tell he wanted to make conversation just by the way he looked at me, but he was a quiet guy, and it took several accidental meetings on the elevator for him to work up the nerve.

  He was nothing like Wes. Wes was intense and passionate where Colton was mild and quiet. They were both handsome guys, but their personalities were reflected in their appearance. Colton had light hair and eyes with a completely wholesome haircut and conservative wardrobe choices. He had worn khakis with a tucked-in button down shirt every time I saw him. Wes on the other hand, emanated adventure and maybe even danger. The more I got to know him, the more I realized how very sweet and considerate he was, but there was definitely an edge to his appearance—a carefree vibe that drew women to him like moths to a flame.

  Colton wore his standard uniform on our date
. I met him at a steak house that was walking distance from my flat. He didn't live so close, so he had driven his car. He had texted me to make sure I didn't want him to pick me up, but I told him I would just meet him there.

  Dinner was tasty, and Colton was a real gentleman the entire time. We had pleasant enough conversation, but my thoughts kept returning to Wes. I thought about Elvis the bird and felt bad that Wes had a rough day in the wake of hearing the sad news about him.

  Colton had no idea I had other things on my mind. My conversation with him was so surface level that it was easy for me to appear focused on it while daydreaming about other things. I thought about Wes keeping certain information from Shea, and had to hold in a smile when I realized I hadn't told Colton anything about my hobbies or my YouTube channel. We did talk about my work some, but that's just because he worked in my building and he already knew a little bit about my job.

  I really did try to give him my full attention, but it was simply impossible for me to do so. I felt bad for not being totally into him, so I offered to pay for my own dinner. It was kind of a weird thing for me to do—especially since I had let him pay for dinner the first time we went out. I felt guilty for being preoccupied, though, so I offered. He refused. He smiled and told me it was his pleasure, which only added to my guilt.

  He asked if he could take me for ice cream afterward, and because I felt like maybe I could make it up to him for being distracted, I agreed. I told myself I would offer to pay for our ice cream so that I wouldn't feel so bad about letting him buy my dinner.

  He wouldn't let me do that either.

  I ordered a scoop of mint chocolate chip in a cup, and Colton ordered a vanilla milkshake. We started to sit down in the ice cream store, but it was such a nice evening that we decided to walk around a little bit.

  "This is my place," I said as we came to the corner near my building. There was a trash bin nearby, and I walked over to it to throw away my empty ice cream cup.

  "No way," Colton said, glancing at the building I had gestured to. "I didn't know you lived so close to the office."

  I nodded. "I walk to work most days."

  "I could walk you up if you like," he said. "Now that we're here." He was basically inviting himself to my apartment, but in the sweetest most non-intrusive way possible.

  I searched my mind for a way to refuse him without seeming totally rude. Granted, it was Sunday, and I could get by with saying I needed to turn in early for work the following day, but we had eaten an early dinner and it was still a bit premature for that. I was all about turning in early, but it was barely seven o'clock.

  "Or we could keep walking if you like," he said when I didn't respond right away. "I wasn't trying to rush you back home or anything."

  "Oh no, I'm fine being rushed. I mean, I, uh, it's Sunday and we both have work tomorrow. I just assumed I'd come home after we got ice cream. Sure, you can walk me up, if you don't mind." I added that last part out of sheer obligation. I felt bad for saying I assumed we'd be done after ice cream, so the bit about walking me up just came out before I could stop it. Colton smiled and held out a hand for me to lead the way. He must have finished his milkshake because he tossed his cup into the bin before we took off.

  It crossed my mind that Wes could possibly still be in my apartment when we got there, but I figured it was unlikely since I had been gone for a couple of hours. I couldn't see him practicing for that long. Plus, he was the type to get restless, and I knew it wasn't like him to sit in my flat for two hours while I wasn't there.

  Colton and I rode the lift up to my floor in relative silence. I didn't want it to be awkward, but I also didn't want him to feel like he could hang out all night or anything. I was trying to think of things I could say to tell him goodbye once we got to my door.

  He was a true gentleman in every sense of the word. The elevator door opened, and he motioned for me to walk out ahead of him. I led the way down the hall to my door.

  I had two locks—one in the doorknob and one in the deadbolt. Wes would have had no way to lock the deadbolt, so I went for the lock in the doorknob. I didn't feel the key catch like it normally does, but I didn't fully realize it was already unlocked until I opened the door and saw Wes sitting on my couch. He was sitting on the edge of the cushion with his hands clasped in front of him staring downward as if waiting for something.

  He stood up as soon as I opened the door, and I regarded him with a deer in the headlights expression. It took him a second to realize that Colton was right behind me, and my heart dropped as I watched his subtle change in expression. His face was serious but hopeful when I first caught sight of him, but then it changed to something more guarded, disappointed when he noticed Colton.

  "Heyyy," I said as we came into the room. I closed the door behind us, busying myself with taking off my shoes since I had no idea what else to do. Once I turned toward Wes again, I realized that he had already begun walking toward us. Colton just stood there, waiting for one of us to say something.

  "Colton, this is my friend, Wes," I said with a nod in Wes's direction.

  Colton stepped forward to shake Wes's hand as he approached. My heart pounded as I watched the exchange. Colton was a handsome guy. I had already come to that conclusion while we were eating dinner. I watched as Wes looked him over. I could see him evaluating Colton's appearance. He wore a cordial smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. It seemed like he might say something to Colton, but he changed his mind and looked at me.

  "I didn't know you guys were planning on coming back here," he said.

  "I didn't either," I said. "We went for a walk after we ate, and we ended up on my block. Colton offered to walk me up."

  There was really no need for me to explain all that, but I couldn't help it. I was so shaken that I had to stop myself from rambling on about other details like what flavor of ice cream I had chosen.

  "Are you flatmates?" Colton asked.

  "We might as well be," Wes said. "I'm here all the time."

  This statement caused a lot of things to happen. Colton shifted to look at me, appearing suddenly confused while I blushed, shook my head, and let out a nervous giggle.

  "Wes comes to use my dartboard when he's not working or hanging out with his girlfriend."

  I currently did not have a dartboard in my flat—the only one I owned was hanging in my office. It was simply the closest explanation I could think of without having to go into detail about throwing knives.

  Colton glanced around as if looking for a dartboard. "Are you any good?" he asked with a smile.

  This caused me to blush even further. My heart was hammering in my chest. This was what I got for lying. No good could come of it. Now Colton was going to ask for a game, and it would come out that I'm a terrible person—a liar.

  "I'm pretty good," Wes said. "But that's not why I came over here. I came to talk to JoJo."

  "Who's JoJo?" Colton asked, glancing around.

  "Jolene," Wes said. "I came here to talk to Jolene. But I didn't know you'd be coming over. I don't want to interrupt."

  Colton squinted at Wes and wagged his finger at him as if trying to figure something out. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

  "I'm a musician," Wes said.

  Colton smiled broadly and clapped his hands together. "That's it! You play with Firsthand. I saw you play at the Broad Castle Festival."

  Wes nodded. He was doing his best to smile and remain cordial, but I knew him well enough to know something was bothering him. Colton wasn't pretending at all. He was flat-out impressed. "Oh, man, I loved that show."

  "Thanks," Wes said. "We had fun playing there."

  "I didn't realize you were American," Colton said. "Is that how you and Jolene know each other?"

  Wes shook his head. "We met here. I came here to go to college."

  "That's awesome," Colton said.

  Wes offered him a little smile before he gestured at the door. "I'll get out of your way," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt.
"

  "No, really, you're not interrupting," Colton said. He was impressed by Wes's rock star status, and now he was completely at ease since I had clarified that Wes had a girlfriend. I thought I was really smart by saying that, but it had backfired because now Colton wanted to be best friends with him.

  Everything had backfired—the girlfriend comment, the dartboard comment... I wished I had just kept my mouth shut. I wished I could get to the point where Colton was the one leaving and Wes was the one staying, but I had no idea how to make that happen. I could tell, just by everyone's body language, that the opposite was about to take place.

  I had to do something brave—I had to say something before Wes walked out.

  "Colton, if you don't mind, I'm gonna let you run so I can talk to Wes," I said. Before I could question whether or not it was a good idea to say let you run to someone who wanted to stay, I added, "He just found out that somebody close to him from the States passed away."

  Colton's face morphed to one of regret and concern. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said to Wes.

  "It's okay," Wes said. "He was old. We kinda knew it was coming. I just feel bad that I wasn't there."

  "I'll get out of your way," Colton said, instantly reaching for the door.

  "Thank you for dinner," I said with a little smile.

  Colton took this as an invitation, and he reached out to give me a hug. I tried not to be awkward when I returned it, and he bent down to place a kiss on my cheek. He looked sharp and smelled like cologne, and I probably should've been happy to receive affection from him, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but Wes. He glanced away when Colton embraced me, but I knew he could see us out of his periphery.

  Within a few seconds, Colton was gone. I made sure the door was closed and I heard his steps retreating down the hall before I turned to stare at Wes. I leaned against the door, letting my head fall back on it with a sigh. I had a loveseat positioned close to the door, and Wes had been leaning against the back of it casually.

  "I'm sorry I interrupted your date," he said.

  "You didn't," I said. "I mean, it's no big deal. We were done, really. He was just walking me up here."