Page 50 of A Minute More

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Page 50 of A Minute More

“You okay?” he asks, standing up and mercifully allowing me to breathe.

“Fine,” I say, trying to play it cool but reminding myself that he’s so far out of my league it’s ridiculous. I should have never gotten the job at the shop just to be near him. I have lost my fucking mind.

“You sure?” His voice hides a hint of concern, and I shake my head, not wanting to put a damper on things.

God, you always fucking nag, Simon. You suck the life out of people.

I wince at the memory of his voice, and then turn away, shaking it off. My gaze snags on a horde of beautiful women making their way toward us. Oh fuck, it’s the girls from the club…the one girl with long legs and gorgeous auburn hair. She looks like she walked off a runway even in her rain boots and overalls. And she’s smiling widely at Wesley, looping her arms around his neck as if they were made to be there.

“Hey,” she says and then smiles sweetly at me. “Got started without us, huh?”

Wesley nods, and I peer over at him, just taking him in. He chats amiably with the girls, giving them all far too much attention, and I find myself shirking back, not wanting to intrude.

I always fucking intrude.

But I can’t help myself when it comes to him. I’m possessive when I have no right to be, when we are nothing more than acquaintances.

Then why are you here, dumbass?

I shake the thought away and move to another row of berries, not wanting to seem like I’m lurking. Bending down, I blindly collect some of the fruit and drop them in my bucket. I don’t even know what kind these are, haven’t been paying attention. I glance down at them and sigh. Blueberries.

Ugh, I hate those. Hate most berries, if I’m being honest.

But I pick them anyways, moving farther and farther away from the group. Wesley doesn’t even notice I’m gone, hasn’t even glanced my way.

Which is fine. It’s totally fine.

It doesn’t matter. Wesley isn’t an option anyways. He never was.

I went into this knowing that I could never have him—because he’s straight and because…

Because.

I shake my head, wishing I’d driven myself to this damn field in the middle of nowhere, but I was lured into the back of that car by his smile and the promise of holding his hand.

And he delivered. I basked in it.

But it’s wrong. There’s no hope of anything continuing long-term. Not that he wants long-term. Not that he wants anything real with me. He’s just experimenting.

I glance back over my shoulder and see him looking around, almost frantic. My heart stutters in my chest, my hand gripping the bucket tightly, the metal handle biting into my skin.

And when he finds me, his mouth breaks out in a smile and he beams hotter than the sun and my chest explodes.

I can barely breathe, can barely swallow. I just stand there like a scarecrow in the middle of this field as he jogs over to me, grabbing on to my arm softly. At his touch alone, I feel myself melt, like chocolate near a fire.

“Where’d you run off to?” His hand slides up my arm, and I feel the scar of him etched into my skin.

“I was just…” I hold up my pail and he grins.

“You must love blueberries.”

I don’t. I hate them, but I just shrug and let him guide me back to his group of friends, his arm thrown around my shoulder. It’s casual and not any more than that, but I can’t help but think that it is. That this means something, that he’s staking his claim.

“God, I love this,” Dena says, popping a berry between her lips and sucking some juice from her fingers. She looks good doing it, and I wonder for a second if Wesley is looking at her, but when I check, he’s not. He’s looking down at me.

And that calms something deep inside my churning gut.

But even still, I know I’m out of place. I don’t belong here with these beautiful people. I can’t leave though, because he’s holding on to me, touching me constantly, keeping me grounded. So I don’t run like I want to. I stay. I stay for hours while they collect those damn berries that I’ll never eat. They will rot in my fridge like the garbage they are, but I stay because he’s here, touching me.




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