Just a Pucking Prank [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12 - Equally bitchy

Lydia

I think what hurt the most was that Wes didn't speak up for me. Not that I expected him to. But maybe, somewhere deep down inside, I thought he had gotten to know me a little and that would be enough for him to not let them talk about me like that.

I was wrong.

I spend the weekend with Trisha and Pres. I dance and drink and try to forget how they laughed at me.

When a cute guy flirts with me, I want to say yes. I want to drag him off to the bathroom and do what I've done so many times before.

But I don't. Something is stopping me.

Maybe it's the idea of this guy laughing at me as well. Or the realization that it's all so empty. Everything I do feels empty now. And I think my parents wouldn't like it.

So I have another drink and fend off another drunk guy wanting to hook up. Do they really think I'm that easy? If they do, is it because I am?

Pres asks me why I didn't go with the guy, but all I can say is that I'm not in the mood. Which, I realize, is true. I have no desire to have a quick fuck in a bathroom.

The way the hockey players laugh at me is still echoing in my head on Tuesday when I return to the Den.

Part of me wants to yell at Wes, call him out, and demand an apology. The other part wants to hide. I shouldn't be ashamed of who I am. And there's nothing wrong with having fun and sleeping around. I know that. So why does it feel like I've been caught with my hand in the cookie jar?

"Lydia," Ms Tina says when I arrive. "There's not too much to do today. I was just telling Wes which displays need to be tidied up. We haven't gotten any new merch so you should be able to take it easy today."

I nod. "Great."

"I'm going to head home then," Ms Tina grabs her purse. "As always, you can call me if there are any problems."

She leaves the store and I see the security guard, Kevin, follow her to the doors.

"How was your weekend?" Wes asks.

"Fine." I grab a stack of hoodies and start refolding them.

"Good. Mine was good too. We won the game on Friday."

I know they won the game. I happened to see the result. When I looked it up.

"Well, at least you're good at something."

He wrinkles his forehead at me before he goes to the other side of the store to busy himself with something or other.

A few customers stop by and I put on a fake smile as I check them out and tell them to have a nice evening.

When we're alone again, I hear a soft "fuck" from Wes.

"What?" I ask, still annoyed at him and not sure if I should call him out.

He hesitates for a moment, looking off towards a corner of the room. Then he turns his screen towards me.

It shows a picture of Chloe and a guy I don't know. Their heads are close together as they're sitting in front of two plates of food. Both of them are smiling happily.

"I guess you were right," Wes says through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, that doesn't look like a girls' weekend. I told you she was lying."

His head snaps toward me, and he almost bares his teeth in a snarl. "Yeah, I got that. No need to be a bitch about it."

The hypocrisy is too much. I scoff. "Like you're never a bitch."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I move my jaws to keep them from clenching. "Forget it." I don't want to talk about it. I wish I could forget everything I heard.

He narrows his eyes and for a moment; I think he's going to push the issue. Then the door opens, and a customer walks in. I swivel around with my fake smile.

"Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

Wes' eyes linger on me. But for the rest of the evening, I ignore him and stay as far away as possible. He approaches me once, but I inform him I have to use the restroom and duck away before he can say anything.

The shift comes to an end, and I turn off the lights and make sure everything is in order before I grab my bag and hurry past Wes, who's waiting to lock the door.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asks before I can escape.

"I don't need any favors. I can handle myself."

I start walking away, but his hand grabs my wrist and stops me. He pulls me back, forcing me to look up at him.

"What is your problem?" he says. "We have to work together. Can't you at least be civilized?"

I'm seething. Our eyes meet and I want to tell him exactly what's on my mind. But I can't think of a way to word it that won't come off as a child begging for approval. So I shoot daggers at him with my eyes and try not to get lost in his.

"You're one to talk about civilized," I finally say when I can't take the tension any longer. "My problem is that you're a shitty person and I want nothing to do with you. And here we are, forced to work together."

He's still holding my wrist and I'm doing nothing to break free. I crane my neck to look up at him as he leans in closer. His lips are right there, looking so soft and inviting.

"Stop being a bitch." His words bring me out of the trance his presence put me in. "This is all on you."

His eyes dip to my lips and I part them slightly, holding my breath. Does he remember our kiss? Is he thinking of it?

I swear his mouth comes closer. Then, all of a sudden, he lets go of my arm and reaches for the door. While I stand there, confused and dazed, he locks the door and walks away.

I exhale and close my eyes. He must be doing that on purpose. Trying to make me frazzled. Is he trying to get back at me for what I did? That can't be it, can it? But why else does he keep getting close to me?