Chapter 4 - Liz

The look on Wes's face made me instantly regret my question.

"Why?" he asked, giving me a half smile.

"I'm just curious," I said, trying to sound casual and undo what I might've just done. The last thing I needed was for Wes Bennett to have leverage over me. "I've never seen him in your little baseball boy band,that's all."

"That's because Charlie—my cousin—doesn't go to Emerson."

"He's your cousin," I said, surprised for some reason. "That explains why he knows you cuddle with little pillows."

"I do," he said, grinning his cocky grin even as his cheeks got red."I'm not ashamed. I sleep better with my lumpy old pillow, so what?"

"From what I hear, it's not so much old as it is a pillow intended for tiny, little babies."

He ignored that and said, "You do know that if you're interested in him, you're going to have to go through me, right?"

I sighed and immediately gave up on any notions about Hot Charlie.

"First of all, I'm not 'interested,' because I don't even know him. Second of all, if I were interested, surely there would be a better way than through you."

"Why are your cheeks red?"

Wes had always been able to see through everything and just know.

My thoughts, my reactions—he never missed a blush or a stammer, and he had the ability to catch any tell that my face might expose.

He was looking at me like I was a silly child, and I kind of wanted to hurt him. "Because I'm sitting in the hot sun, dumbass."

"No need for name-calling when I'm trying to help you."

"How are you trying to help me, exactly?"

"If you're interested in Charlie, I can provide the assist."

"No offense, but I will never—in my entire life—want you anywhere near my love life."

"Never say never."

"Nevernevernevernever and oh, yeah—never."

"You wound me, Buxbaum," he said, putting his hand over his heart.

"But I don't," I said, feeling like I knew his reactions just as well as he knew mine. Regarding me, he was either amused, entertained, irritated, or snarky; it was all in his eyes. Right now he was amused but also mildly irritated, probably worried I was going to start stalking his cousin. "You'd have to have genuine emotions to be wounded."

"You think I don't have emotions?" He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. "I just told you I'm obsessed with your hair and you don't think I have emotions? I turn the hose on you every time you look hot in the backyard and you think I'm not genuine?"

"I knew you squirted me on purpose!"

His mouth turned up into a big smile, the kind that made his eyes twinkle and secretly made me want to laugh.

But I would never.

If Wes Bennett thought that I thought he was funny, the resultant torture would be unbearable.

"Settle your ass down, I didn't say that. But, Lizzie, if I'm watering my mom's flowers and I know you're baking on the other side of the fence,wouldn't it make me a bad neighbor if I didn't give you a spritz from time to time?"

"I'll give you a spritz," I muttered under my breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

He gave me a knowing look and said, "So do you want me to put in a good word with Charlie or not?"

"Not."

"I can talk you up, tell him about how mean you are, or about the time you fell out your bedroom window."

"I didn't fall out the window, and you know it!" God, no one pushed my buttons like freaking Wes. "I was trying to fix my screen, it fell out, and then I climbed out the window to retrieve it."

"And...?" His smile was ginormous, and I wanted to punch it.

"And my foot got caught and I landed on my face, but I didn't fall out the window."

"I wish I had pictures of the road rash left on your forehead."

I flipped him off.

"At least I still have them up here." And he tapped his forehead, the dick.

"Have I told you lately that I hate you?"

"Oh, you don't hate me, Buxie," he said, dropping to a squat in front of me. His dark eyes moved all over my face before he said, "How could you hate the first boy you ever punched?"

"That was a special moment,"

I agreed, giving in to a tiny smile. "I'll always remember the look of shock on your stupid face just before you ran to tell my mom on me."

"I mean, I couldn't let you get away with assault. What kind of lesson would that teach?"

"Such a model citizen," I said, rolling my eyes. "Now can I get back to my book?"

"Absolutely." Wes reached out a hand and flicked the spine. "I don't want to interrupt your studies."

"This isn't for school—it's still summer," I said, putting my sunglasses back on. "Remember?"

"Oh, I wasn't referring to school; I was referring to the fact that you're studying French-kissing. Very important subject. You should totally throw yourself into your studies."

My cheeks were instantly hot again. "This isn't—"

"Shhhhhh, don't ruin this," he said, cutting me off with an obnoxious grin as he scooped up the football and straightened. "Because I don't know if I'd say I'm an expert, but if you ever need any coaching, I've got all the tips you'll ever need. I'm your guy—the guy—for mastering the art of the French kiss."

I crinkled my nose. "Gross."

He turned and started walking toward his yard, but just before he reached the fence, he looked at me over his shoulder and said, "Y'know, Buxbaum, someday you might see it differently."

I tilted my head, crossed my arms, and said, "I was talking about you,Wes, not kissing in general."

His lips slid up into the dirtiest of smirks. "Oh, I know, Elizabeth."

With that, he launched himself over the fence as if I hadn't just told him the combination of the gate's lock.

"Use the gate next time, Baby Pillow!" I yelled.

"We'll see!" he yelled back, and then I heard him say something—presumably to Charlie—and fall into that loud, carefree Wes Bennett laugh. A laugh I'd recognize anywhere.