Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) Page 6

  “Make sure you run that by Wes before you hand over Capri,” August said wiping his mouth with a napkin. I was just setting my mug back down on the table when he spoke those words. Each word loosened my grip, letting the mug drop onto the table and slosh coffee in little splatters around it.

  My mom’s head snapped up from where she was cutting her pancakes. She smiled brightly and dropped her fork and knife clasping her hands to her chest. “Finally.”

  “What?” I said horrified and strangely curious about her response.

  “We’ve been dreaming of this day for so long, haven’t we, Steven,” my mom asked my dad who sighed and shook his head.

  “Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t like it.” I did, however, find it interesting. I didn’t think my parents had ever approved of any of the guys I’d dated, not that they’d even met any of them. Wes and I would never happen, though.

  “There is no Wes and me,” I stated firmly, gripping my mug in both hands.

  August stood up from the quiet table and collected the empty plates. He patted me on the shoulder as he walked by on his way to the sink. “What time are you meeting him today?” his obnoxious voice asked, laced with amusement.

  “You’re meeting him? Where? What time?” My mom’s eyes sparkled with hope.

  “Does he need help tying his shoes?” my dad mumbled from behind the steaming cup pulled up to his lips. So I guess only my mom was a fan of Wes.

  “He’s painting a mural for me on the gym wall,” August said retaking his seat next to Kensie but not before kissing her on the temple. She smiled sweetly at him, reminding me of what I wanted in my next relationship. I wanted someone who loved me so completely that they kissed me no matter who was around. I wanted someone to look at me and see me, adoring every placating piece.

  “And I’m helping him out. That’s it,” I said directly to my mom. “And you know we aren’t painting today because you’ve got the boys running drills in the gym this afternoon,” I said straight to August who let out a muffled grunt when Kensie kicked him under the table. I air high fived her and smirked at my brother. He might be her husband soon, but I was still one of her best friends.

  “Calm down about the boy, Donna. Capri has a date with Dan tonight, remember?” I slumped into my chair and purposefully avoided my brother. Dan was a guy my age who worked at the woman’s shelter with us every Thanksgiving. He had been trying to get me to go out with him for years, and I had been avoiding him for years.

  “Wait, you’re going out with Dan the Man?” August asked sounding more amused than bewildered. Dan had a habit, or more of an obsession if you will, of talking about himself. A Lot. He was one of those guys who could do everything, had seen everything, and knew everything. He also had a habit of referring to himself as “the man,” hence the nickname.

  “It’s just a date,” I said not wanting to elaborate on the specifics. Mainly, the fact that I had answered my phone before checking caller ID because I was busy sketching the tail of a marlin.

  “Yeah, but a date?” August asked for clarification. I nodded because, again, I didn’t want to elaborate. Not on the fact that I had said yes to a quick drink at Tommy’s with Dan to purge the person who donned the marlin on his bicep from my mind.

  “So, are you interested in him, or…what is this?” Kensie asked.

  “This, is just a drink. I figure if I go out with him this one time, he will see how incompatible we are and leave me alone once and for all.”

  “Or you could just not go out with him,” August said earning himself another kick in the shin from his beloved.

  “Why don’t you give Wes a call and go out with him instead?”

  “Give it up, Mom,” I said to her and stood up from the table. I looked around at my parents, August, and Kensie “And stop prying into my dating life. It’s just a drink.”

  Okay, it wasn’t just a drink. Dan and I had plans to meet each other at Tommy’s at eight, and he showed up at my house at seven-thirty decked out in a pair of Dockers with a button up shirt and a blazer. A blazer. To a bar. If that and his old man pants weren’t enough, he had doused himself in a pungent odor that I could only describe as a teenage boy after gym class. So Dan showed up dressed like my dad’s fifty-year-old golf buddy reeking of Axe.

  Thanks to his odor, I had to roll down my window to keep my migraine at bay, which allowed me to simply nod my head in understanding while Dan’s lips moved to the glorious sound of only wind in my ears. I didn’t even mind the tangled mess my hair had become and simply pulled it into a side braid before exiting the car to go into Tommy’s.

  One drink with a guy like Dan in actuality meant one Cosmo, followed by a glass and a half of water with lemon, and two restroom breaks. Each time I returned from the ladies’ room, I’d remain standing and reach for my purse, but he’d continue right where he left off with his monologue about wanting to start his own clothing line.

  “My buddy knows a guy who can do the silk screening for half cost.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “So that gives me a larger budget to advertise on campus.”

  ‘Cause I was sure college-aged men wanted to look like Bill Gates on the bottom and Miami Vice on the top. “Mmhmm.”

  “And then a guy I met on an entrepreneur Facebook group is going to help me patent my logo.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “And what’s that gonna say. Douche Pricks R Us?” I jumped from my fog of boredom, spilling my water all over the table.

  “Sorry, C.” Wes leaned over my back grabbing loose napkins and laying them across the stream of water. His arms were propped on either side of the table encasing me under him, and somehow leaving me more open than I’d felt all night. After successfully covering the table with layers of brown napkins, Wes moved back only to leave faint wisps of his cologne pulling lazily away from me. I fought the urge to grab onto one and reel him back in.

  “And you are?” Dan asked, reminding me of what I was doing here. Wes pulled the chair that sat between Dan and me out and spun it around before sitting down with his arms draped over the back.

  “Wes,” he answered sitting up proudly with a grin stretching clear across his face dimple to dimple. A smile paired with an odd garbled half-laugh escaped my mouth. What the crap was that? Thankfully the two were more focused on each other than me and didn’t notice my giggle vomit.

  “Wes, this is Dan.” I nodded across the table at my date.

  “Her date,” Dan said sizing Wes up.

  “Uh-huh. And by date what do you mean exactly?” Wes asked, and I groaned inwardly. Here he goes.

  “By date, I mean she and I are here together. Just she and I.” Dan sat up and buttoned the top button of his jacket.

  “Nice blazer,” Wes commented, and I giggle vomited again.

  “Nice beanie,” Dan said.

  Nice beanie, indeed. Wes had the thick cotton pulled down to his eyebrows. Something about a man in a beanie, or maybe just Wes in a beanie, was utterly and completely hot. Maybe it was the way a beanie highlighted the sharp, defined edges of his jawline. Or maybe it was the way it cast a dark, rebellious shadow onto his otherwise mischievous and playful expressions. Or maybe I should stop staring at Wes in a beanie, and instead chastise him for crashing my date.

  “We’re on a date, Wes,” I said reflecting how bored I’d felt before Wes showed up. So maybe chastise was the wrong verb to use.

  “Right on.” He nodded toward the waitress at a neighboring table. “Leinenkuegal, Jess.” Psh. Jess.

  “Seriously?” Dan said more to himself than to either of us, but I was too busy watching Jess prance away in her way too tight True Religions.

  “So, how’s the date going?” Wes’ eyes skipped back and forth between the two of us. He either didn’t hear Dan or chose to ignore him as I had.

  “It’s great,” I said pushing my martini glass away and sitting forward toward him, placing my elbows on the table. Manners shmanners.

/>   “Oh, yeah?” Wes countered looking only at me.

  “Yeah. Wonderful.” I looked just as hard back.

  “Wow, wonderful, huh?”

  “Yeah. Perfect, even.” I sat back and crossed one leg over the other not even worrying about adjusting my black canvas shorts that had pulled up a little too high.

  Wes’ eyes left mine and darted down toward my legs where they froze. Then widened. Then he cleared his throat. “Perfect.” Scratch that. Canvas short length was just right.

  I shifted under his stare, and his eyes jumped back up to mine. They narrowed in determination and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a tiny smirk. So tiny, that most wouldn’t notice it, but I was well versed in Wes’ smiles, and this one didn’t escape me.

  “So,” Wes’ smirk morphed into a full-scale facetious grin. Crap. “What’s her favorite color?”

  “What?” Dan clipped, and Wes swung his head back toward him.

  “Capri’s favorite color. What is it?” He nodded at Jess, who had leaned over far more than necessary to place his beer on the table, but Wes kept his challenging stare on Dan.

  “Um, blue?” Dan said sitting up straighter and lifting his chin a smidgen more in the air. To be fair, he was really destined for failure on that question

  “Nope. White.” Whoa. I didn’t expect Wes to nail that, although, to be fair, I wore it almost exclusively. Still, Wes noticing that was surprising to me.

  “What’s her favorite movie?”

  “The Notebook?” Dan wiggled in his chair.

  “Ten Things I Hate About You.” Wes tipped back his beer and thumped it back down on the table. “Okay, what about her favorite band?”

  “No, you know what. No. This is stupid. None of this really matters anyway.” Dan crossed his arms over his tiny chest.

  “The Civil Wars, but okay, how about something more meaningful. Something you should be interested in asking your date instead of talking about yourself the whole time.” Wes leaned forward as Dan leaned back.

  “Wha-what?” Dan stuttered.

  “Because from where I was standing,” Wes tossed his head back toward an empty seat at the bar, “you did nothing but talk your ass off the whole time while Capri sat here looking bored as fuck.”

  “She’s not bored.” Dan sat forward and looked at me expectantly.

  I shrugged my shoulders. I was bored. As fuck.

  “And I can’t understand why a guy who is lucky enough to score a date with a girl like C wouldn’t want to know every damn thing there is to know about her. What her favorite color is, what movies she likes, or what music she chills to. How could you not want to know that she wears glasses at night and looks fuckin’ hot as sin in ‘em, or that she likes to eat peanut butter and banana toast just before bed? C’mon, dude. You don’t care about knowing Capri.”

  Wes shook his head and tilted back to take another sip of his beer. At least, I thought that was what he did. I was having a hard time seeing through the beat of my pulse clear up to my eyeballs. I’d spent so much of my life trying to blend into the walls around me, and somehow Wes had been watching closely enough to know what I ate before I went to sleep at night. I couldn’t discern if the helix of nerves twisting in my stomach was from being watched or from being seen.

  “This is our first date. Of course, I wouldn’t know those things,” Dan said standing from the table and making a show of tossing down a few twenties. “And I’d like to continue it. Are you ready, Capri?” Dan asked me, but instead of replying, I looked at Wes.

  With my anxious haze retreating, I could see Wes more clearly now. He tapped his fingers on the edge of his bottle, almost nervously. Then he released his hand from the bottle and stretched his arm up to pull the beanie off his head and run his hand through the tufted mess of hair atop it. I giggle vomited. Wes winked.

  “Nah. I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.” I wrinkled my nose and looked back up at Dan.

  “Are you serious? You’re on a date with me,” he gestured grandly toward himself.

  “And it sounds like that date is over,” Wes said, moving to stand between Dan and me, but I quickly patted him on the leg. He smiled down at me and rested back into his chair.

  “I’m sorry, Dan. This just isn’t going to work out. We’re two very different people, and I think it’s best if we go our separate ways,” I said as kindly as possible.

  “Uh-huh,” Dan said rubbing his chin with his hand. “Look, I’m not going to grovel because, let’s be real, I don’t need to. I do think you are missing out on something that could have been really successful.”

  Successful? Why on Earth would I ever want to be with a guy who described a relationship as successful? I hadn’t planned to see Dan past this ‘quick drink,’ but it was even clearer to me now why I had never been interested in him. Besides the blazer, he saw things through a systematic lens.

  Life, to me, wasn’t about a formula of how to get it right or of weighing risks. It wasn’t about an equation with a solid answer. Life was a spectrum, and we swirled somewhere amidst its colors. We flowed, and we tumbled. We connected, and we drifted apart. We diluted, and we saturated. The only thing that was certain was we didn’t know where tomorrow would take us, regardless of what we planned. The only thing that was promised was that we wouldn’t regret a moment of it if we lived it passionately.

  “Successful sounds really boring, homie.” Wes tugged on his beanie adjusting where it sat back on his head. I scrunched my nose and nodded in agreement. Boring, indeed.

  Dan huffed at Wes before turning his attention back to me. “If you need a ride home, let me know. I’ll be over at the bar. I don’t feel right leaving you alone.” Then he glared back toward Wes.

  I opened my mouth to tell him that I was perfectly safe with Wes, when the man himself cut in. “I’ll be taking her home but buy yourself a beer on me while you’re over there,” Wes said.

  “Unreal,” Dan muttered before walking away.

  “I should feel bad,” I said to Wes, still watching Dan as he squeezed himself between two girls who stepped aside to give him more than enough space.

  “He should feel like an ass. That had to have been the most pathetic date I’ve ever seen, C.” Wes smiled at me.

  “Gee, thanks.” I smiled back. “You don’t have to take me home if you’re here with someone else, Wes. I can call one of the girls or August for a ride.”

  “I’m not here with anyone except you now.” He sat back into his chair and shoved his right hand deep into his pocket leaving the other arm stretched out onto the table.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  He pulled his hand from his pocket and patted his thigh. “Yep, and c’mon, you can’t tell me that you weren’t bored outta your mind.” Wes started laughing. “At one point, I even caught you doing that thing you do when you’re trying to stay awake.” What? Does he mean when I silently sketch with my finger? “You know, when you twirl your fingers around on the tabletop?” Wow.

  “Okay, stalker,” I teased to mask my blossoming nerves. Wes’ response was to throw his head back in a deep chuckle. I loved that sound. I remembered countless moments when I’d heard his laugh rolling through the walls of my house and working its way deep into the plaster. I felt a small smile sweep across my face, and my nerves were gone.

  “So, what now?”

  “What do you mean? I thought you were giving me a ride home?” I asked.

  “I will, but the night isn’t over yet. I feel like I kinda owe you for crashing your date.”

  “No, I definitely owe you for saving me from my date.” I laughed. “So what should we do?”

  “You up for a game?” Wes’ eyes sparkled and I groaned; this man and his games. “Oh c’mon, C. It’ll be fun. Besides, you said yourself that you owe me.”

  “Uh, fine. What are we playing?”

  “Every time your boy Dan over there points to himself, we take a shot.”

  “So basically you plan on us getting wasted?”r />
  “Basically.” He grinned and held his fist out to me.

  “I’m in.” I grinned and pounded it.

  “Jess, a round of shots.” He smiled at the waitress who was coincidentally wiping down the empty table next to us, again. She nodded enthusiastically at him before turning her eyes down at me. My response? A silent “suck it.”

  President Douche was still weaseling his way around the bar; every now and then, he’d look over at our table and glare at me. Each time, I saluted him with one of my favorite lewd gestures. Right now, for instance, I was humping Capri’s empty chair.

  She’d gone to use the restroom, and when I saw her wobble to catch her footing, I let Jess know it was just water from here on out. I wanted her to loosen up and have a good time, but I didn’t want her to go overboard.

  I’d come in alone again tonight. I wasn’t ready to go home after my last appointment, and the shop was too quiet, making me all restless and shit.

  When I saw her, my first reaction was to drop my hot wing onto my lap. Then I stared ‘cause I was just thinking about her and here she was. Well, not thinking about her, more like daydreaming about how pretty she looked and how good she smelled. Okay, yeah, mostly that, but I was thinking about what a badass she was when she painted, too. She said she didn’t paint anymore, but the minute I saw her get to work on the mural, I knew she’d lied. She held that brush like I held my iron. It wasn’t a tool. It was her voice.

  So anyway, after I finished convincing myself about how much I wasn’t thinking about her, I snuck up behind one of the posts close to her table and hid behind it so I could hear what they were talking about. After ten minutes of listening to the turd and watching poor C scratching her fingers across the table yawning, I broke up the shindig.

  Now, I’d had the honor of spending two hours with Capri that didn’t involve an obligation, and she hadn’t left yet. In fact, she actually seemed like she was having fun. She even laughed when I dared her to give me that lap dance she owed me from a failed attempt at Tommy’s a few months back. When I said failed attempt, I meant she and Lennon tricked me into thinking I was getting the lap dance when they actually gave it to each other.