Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) Read online

  “Sit down, Wes,” Capri said sneaking up from behind me.

  “Holy mother of Ludicrous!” I jumped back at her surprise attack in the dark. I twisted around to find her. She took a step out of the shadow of the overhang, and my jaw fell at the sight of Capri stalking careful steps toward me. Daayyuumm. Yep, my best friend’s sister was smokin’. She kicked one of the wooden chairs my way.

  “Sit down,” she demanded.

  “Okay,” I said. Something in her tone told me not to question her. She was scary, and hot. Scary hot. I quickly slid into the chair. Was this really happening? I didn’t expect her to go through with it. That was a lie. She never turned down a challenge from me.

  Capri reached her hand up to pull her hair loose from its braid. Her tank slipped up revealing the side of her stomach. I whined at the sheer perfection of it. Not too firm but just soft enough for me to take a bite. I stomped my feet and looked away. August’s sister. August’s sister.

  The sound of music snapped my attention back to Capri. She stood in front of me and tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her tiny shorts. Her hips began to move back and forth with the beat.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  My head followed their movement.

  Left. Right. Left.

  I licked my lips, but my tongue was too dry to do anything. Capri took a calculated step toward me and turned so that her ass was right in my face. Let me repeat that. Capri’s ass was in my fuckin’ face, and it was fancy just like the song said, so fancy, and round, and in my face. Out of nowhere, it jumped up at me. I jolted back and watched, opening my eyes as wide as I could get them to take in all its glory. What. Was. Happening?

  I should probably stop this. Any respectful man would stop this. She wiggled her little ass all over the place right there in front of me.

  Hell to the yeah. I sat back and attempted to lick my lips again. This time I was more successful in pulling my tongue back in before I drooled on myself. I crossed my arms over my chest and spread my legs wide on either side of her gyrating tiny body, settling in comfortably for the show.

  She turned around and took another step closer before reaching her arms up in the air and snaking her body to the ground.

  Her foot slipped from under her, and she fell to the side grabbing onto my leg to keep herself from landing on the floor. I reached down and caught her arm in my hand. Her eyes shot up to me and my own zeroed in on hers. That was all it took. One look from deep in those deep brown eyes and the shenanigans were over. Shit just got real.

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  “In my room!” I shouted out to Lennon from deep within my closet. I arranged my dresses over the black portfolio and placed my Betsy Johnson suitcase in front.

  I’d woken up that morning with a mild headache and a lot of confusion. I’d been tucked in so tightly that I could barely move my arms and legs. When I had broken free, I saw that I was still in the same pair of shorts and white sequin tank I had worn the night before. On the bedside table next to me was a glass of water and a note that read:

  Sleep Tight, Fancy.

  Whatever that meant.

  All signs pointed to me drinking too much, and Wes bringing me home as promised. What I wasn’t sure of was what exactly went down before he brought me home and tucked me in tighter than a drag queen squeezing into a mini skirt. Hence, the need to paint in an attempt to regain my memory of the night’s previous events.

  “My eyes.” Lennon pained when she came in. “You’re a few padded walls away from forgetting color even exists.” I stiffened at her words with my hand molded around the closet doorknob.

  “How is an all-white room different from your all-black attire?” I gestured toward her tiny self—decked out in black tights, black shorts, and a black shirt with some band’s name written across it.

  “I’m a tortured soul. I surround myself in black. You, however, are too far from virginal to shroud yourself in so much white.” She plopped down onto my bed, wedge boots and all. Little did Lennon know, my colorless existence had nothing to do with portraying innocence. It was simply all I knew.

  I perched back on top of my stool and swiveled around to face Lennon, who had now made herself entirely too comfortable on my bed and was poking around in my nightstand drawer.

  “You won’t find anything you haven’t seen before in there,” I say amused by her snooping. She pulled out a rubber round ring and wiggled it in the air.

  “You need a man who won’t require you to use one of these.” She tossed in back into the drawer.

  She pulled out my pink Lelo, and I blushed at the memory of who’d been on my mind the last time I’d used it.

  “And we need to find you a man who matches this in size. Damn.” She gave it a wiggle to match her eyebrow waggle and tossed in back into the drawer with my other goodies. I hadn’t been with anyone since Tanner months ago. I’d become increasingly picky about who I’d date since him, which was new for me. Usually, I dated a lot and often. I found I got less attention as a part of a couple. Of course, it could be that I choose to be with guys who happily took the attention while I could sit on the sidelines.

  “Your parents gone again?” she asked abandoning my drawer and kicking off her boots to the side of my bed.

  “Yeah, came home two nights ago and left early this morning to head to an orphanage in Mexico for a long weekend.” I guess they were already gone when Wes brought me home. A little part of me was disappointed that he hadn’t taken me back to his place, but then again, that was not exactly something you’d do with your best friend’s little sister. Take her home. Or get her drunk, but that clearly happened.

  “What’s that noise?” Lennon asked. I listened closely to the melodic sound she was hearing.

  “It sounds like a song,” I said walking to my room with my ear lowered, trying to find its source.

  “It’s coming from your bag.” Lennon dangled from my bed with her ear to the floor.

  I opened my bag and pulled out my phone. It was playing “Whatta Man” by Salt-N-Pepa loud and proud. I held the phone out at arms’ length. “Oh, c’mon,” I said turning the ringer off and shaking my head at the photo of Wes sticking his tongue out on my phone.

  Lennon’s laugh burst into my ear from where she’d suddenly appeared behind me, and I jerked away from her. Of course, now she got up. “What a man, indeed. When did he sneak that on your phone?” I set the phone down on my desk.

  “I’m assuming last night. That’s what I get for having too many drinks.” I held my hand up wondering why the shine of my nail polish I’d just put on yesterday had already dulled.

  “So, you two were together last night? I thought you had a date with that dweeb from the shelter.”

  “I did. It was awful. We went to Tommy’s and Wes was there. When the date was cut short, he and I hung out a bit longer.” I looked up from where I was picking at my nails to Lennon. She crossed her arm across her chest smugly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what? I’m just looking. This is how I look.” She lifted her arm in the air before pointing at me. “You are the one who seems to feel guilt from my look. Why? What did you do with Wes that would have you feeling guilty?”

  “Nothing.” I didn’t think.

  “You’re so busted! Wes took you to the candy shop!”

  “What?” I asked sitting down on my art stool.

  “You tickled his Twizzler! You let him into your Fun Dip!”

  “Oh, my God, Lennon!” I shouted and scrunched my face at her.

  “You did! You tapped the Tootsie!” She clapped her hands and bounced on her toes in excitement.

  “My walk down the candy aisle will never be the same again.” I picked up a paintbrush from my desk and chucked it at her, but she ducked to the side and it missed. “Nothing happened.” Again, I didn’t think. “We had a few more drinks, and he brought me home, where I slept alone.”

  “Boo. You’re no fun,” she said, dropping back down to the ed
ge of my bed.

  “What are you up to today, anyway? I hope you weren’t planning to hang here all day. I have to get to SYC at some point.” I would normally have been there by now, but I wasn’t in much of a rush to see Wes.

  “No, I’m going back to the dorm to crash,” she said reaching to my floor and picking up a magazine that had made its home there for the last three weeks. “I drove in from Santa Monica this morning.”

  “You still moving in with Wyatt?” I kicked another magazine across the carpet her way.

  “That’s the plan.” Lennon flipped through the magazine in her hand. She had a cousin in Santa Monica she was close with that she’d planned on living with this summer.

  “I hope you have room because I plan on visiting often.” The ping of my phone alerted me to a text. I dug into my bag on the floor searching for it.

  “I think you’ll be fairly busy with him this summer.” She smiled and nodded at the phone in my hand. I rolled my eyes and checked the screen.

  Wes: You ignored my call

  Me: Lennon’s here

  Wes: And you can’t talk when Lennon is here?

  Me: I’d like to hear the replay of last night without her around

  His reply took longer than I’d hoped. Crap.

  “What’s Mr. Wonka have to say?” Lennon asked still flipping the pages of the magazine. I, in turn, flipped her off. Finally, another text came through.

  Wes: We had fun. I took you home.

  Well, that was vague. I was about to ask what kind of fun we had when he sent another text.

  Wes: Go ahead and start without me today. I’m running late.

  I was glad that I wasn’t the only one. I wondered what he was doing that would make him late. Then I wondered why I cared what he was doing that would make him late.

  “He’s running late, too,” I said to Lennon, feeling like I needed her to know how innocent the texts were for some reason.

  “Did you know vibrators were invented as a way to medicate women when they were PMSing?” Lennon grinned at me.

  “What are you reading?” I asked her as if I didn’t care, but really I was beyond curious. I mean, really?

  “Your magazine, my friend. And this right here,” she tapped the page, “is awesome information. Who would have thought orgasms could cure hormonal bitchery?” She closed the magazine and tossed it back to my floor where it would be sure to stay for another two weeks. I was not a slob by any means. My room was clean, dusted, and vacuumed. I just didn’t mind clutter.

  I reached toward the magazine Lennon threw but stopped when my phone pinged again and reached for that instead.

  Wes: What are you wearing?

  I snorted and quickly pulled my hand to cover my mouth staring wide-eyed at Lennon.

  “Did you just snort?” she asked.

  “No. You did,” I said not looking up at her. I looked down at my cotton, way too small, only for at home shorts, and my also cotton, way too thin, only with a bra shirt. Then I wrote back my message.

  Me: A muumuu

  Wes: Yesss. Easy access

  Me: Only you would find a muumuu appealing

  “Stop snorting,” Lennon said still immersed in my magazine.

  “You stop,” I said and read the next message that came through.

  Wes: It doesn’t take much to charm my manaconda.

  Me: Your mana-whata?

  Wes: Shhh, just let it happen.

  I laughed until I looked up to see Lennon gawking at me. I shut up and looked back down at my phone.

  Me: Okay, I guess I’ll figure out later then

  Wes: Promise?

  Me: Shhh, just let it happen

  Score one for me.

  Wes: You’re my favorite.

  “Okay, this time you really did snort.” Lennon threw the magazine down onto the ground.

  “I did.” I smiled. No use in denying it anymore.

  When I pulled into the parking lot of SYC, Wes’ car was already there. I hadn’t left long after texting with him, so whatever he’d had to do before must not have taken too long. That relieved me, knowing that he wasn’t, oh I dunno, answering a quick booty call from his list of sweeties.

  The scent of fresh paint greeted me when I walked through the glass double doors. I set my bag down to lock back up since the center wasn’t open yet and inhaled slowly with a smile. There was just something so appealing about that scent. It reminded me a lot of the smell after a good rainfall with a noxious base hidden beneath a crisp canopy.

  Wes was standing in the middle of the floor with his legs sprawled apart looking at the mural. From the side, I could see he had one arm folded across his chest, and the other propped on it at the elbow. He held his face in his hand, and he just looked. All the years, I’d never seen him wear this demeanor. He appeared contemplative, yet commanding.

  If I stared long enough, I would see his mind chewing on each piece of the artwork. Slowly and deliberately, feeling the consistency. Taking the time to taste and absorb the flavors of it as they seeped in. He was perceptive. He was passionate. He was beautiful.

  I took a careful step toward Wes, not wanting to disturb him, but the wood creaked under my feet. Wes spun around toward me.

  “Hey.” He grinned and walked toward me.

  “Oh, my God, Wes!” I dropped my bag and hurried to him. “What happened?”

  I looked over Wes’ swollen eye and discolored cheek. Reaching my hand out, I slid my fingers across the puffed skin. He winced, and I retracted my touch quickly.

  “Sorry,” I muttered and replaced my fingers on his face hesitantly. When he closed his eyes and turned into my touch, I delicately ran my fingertips down the side of his face. As my finger brushed across his cheekbone, an image flashed through my mind.

  Wes. Angry.

  “Last night?” I asked and pulled my hand slowly toward my side.

  Wes nodded. “That fool Dan said some things about you.”

  “And you—” Another flash of Wes and Dan hit me. Fists. Spit.

  “I socked him,” Wes said sheepishly.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “I’d rather not say. It’s not true, and I don’t want his bullshit words filling your head.” Wes reached out and grabbed my hand with his.

  “Wes, I deserve to know,” I said, and he squeezed my hand.

  Flash.

  Another memory rushed to me. Wes. In a chair. Me. On his…

  “Oh, crap.” I yanked my hand from his and covered my mouth with both hands. “I…I… on your…I gave you…”

  “You gave me a lap dance.” Wes gave me a lopsided grin.

  I gave him a lap dance? Oh, my God. What was I thinking? I covered my face with my hands and groaned. Wes’ chuckle filled the empty gym, and his hands touched mine, pulling them away from my face.

  I squinted up at him with so many questions in my mind. Why? Was I any good? Did he like it? What did Dan say?

  “We both had a lot to drink. We had a fun catching up. Then I apologized for crashing your date and told you that I feel all protective over you or something like that.”

  Something like that. What did that mean?

  “Then you told me that you feel more bold around me.” He looked up from where he had been staring at his Chucks and smiled with a waggle of his eyebrows.

  Flash.

  Wes, across from me at the table. Waggling his eyebrows. Asking me. “Oh, crap. You dared me to give you a lap dance.” He laughed, and I pulled my hands away to shove him in the chest. “You ass. Of course, I did it. I always have to prove you wrong.” His laugh grew fuller.

  I threw my head back and groaned. Then I heard the faintest sound of a memory singing in my ears. Fancy. “Fancy?”

  “That’s the song.” He kept laughing.

  “Wes!” I laughed went to shove him in the chest again, but he stopped my hands and held them in his own.

  “For what it’s worth, C.” His eyes bore into mine without a trace of humor. “It ma
de my fuckin’ life.”

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The paint aroma hovered above us in the stillness of the gym. Between the erratic beats of my heart, I frantically searched for mischief in the lines of his face or humor flickering in his eyes. I saw neither. What I saw was sincerity.

  Flash.

  The events of the previous night flooded back to me. I’d given Wes my best effort at a seductive lap dance. I tried. I really did. I wanted to seduce him. I wanted Wes to want me.

  I turned around to face him halfway through the song and slipped. He caught me though, and that was when I saw it. The same passion was in his eyes now. He wasn’t smiling or laughing. He simply looked at me, meaningfully.

  I’d stopped all movements, and lowered myself onto his lap, slowly and cautiously leaning into him. His rough hands hesitantly touched my knees and slid up my thighs. They didn’t stop until they met my waist, and he slid his hands around my hips. Our eyes remained locked on one another in an intense, yet cautious stare. I rocked my hips in closer to him and felt him grip me with his palms. That was when he spoke.

  Dan staggered from behind Wes.

  “He called me a plain and useless whore,” I said quietly still searching Wes’ eyes. He closed them in a wince and squeezed my hands in his palms.

  “Don’t say that,” he gritted between his teeth.

  “And you beat the shit out of him,” I said grinning carefully and pulling my hand from his grip to touch his face again.

  Wes opened his eyes slowly and nodded into my palm.

  “Thank you,” I said and stepped toward him. I tilted my head up and brushed the tip of my nose against his chin. The sharp inhale of his breath pulled at my skin. I closed my eyes, tracing my nose up his lips and breathing in his scent of peppermint and tobacco. “You smoked,” I whispered out and shivered, the faint brush of my lips now nearly touching his.