Lock & West by Alexander C. Eberhart

Author:Alexander C. Eberhart [Eberhart, Alexander C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781684541867
Publisher: 7 Sisters Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

Our kisses keep replaying in my mind. Unlike the night at Chels’s, this memory is sharp and focused. There’s no alcohol to dull the edges, only crisp moments of his lips moving in tandem with mine and fingers sinking into skin.

I’m still blushing when West walks back into the pool house. He doesn’t carry anything as an excuse for his time with Chels, but I don’t question it. Obviously, something is going on between them. It must be nice to be so close to someone.

He stands by the door, distracted by something he doesn’t mention, and staring at the same spot on the floor. I watch him, taking a moment to better acquaint myself with the way his hair curls at the end and the pattern of freckles kissing the lines of his cheeks. I can’t help but get lost in those oceans through which he sees the world. My troubles can’t find me adrift on that sea.

“I’m sorry.” He breaks the silence, attention still singled out on that spot.

“What do you have to be sorry about?” I ask.

“So many things,” he answers.

“I’m sure that’s true for most people.”

That fact doesn’t change his demeanor. This West is different from the one I’ve come to know. No smile, lewd jokes, or dramatic flair. This West looks a little like me, drowning in his own thoughts.

“Sorry.” He shakes his head, finally breaking the trance. “Ugh. Look at me being moody. It’s just the weed talking, I promise.” His laugh is fractured, like it’s seconds away from breaking into a sob.

“It’s fine,” I assure him, hands finding my pockets. I count the coins from my change at lunch. Three. Four. Five.

“How are things?” West asks me, flopping down on the couch. “At your aunt’s, I mean.”

“They’re good.” I cross to the opposite end of the sofa. “It’s tough on Jack, being away from Mom. But I think it gets a little easier every day.”

West nods, but he doesn’t say anything else, eyes growing distant once more.

“So, how’s the rest of the show going?” I ask, casting a lifeline of distraction.

“Can we actually not talk about it?” West says quickly. “Or me in general?” He shakes his head again, bouncing curls. “I talk about me a lot. But I hardly know anything about you.”

There’s a reason for that. But I don’t have the power to deny him what he asks. “What do you want to know?”

“I dunno.” West shrugs, settling into his cushion. “Just basic shit. Favorite color. Favorite food. What you wanna do when you grow up. That kind of stuff.”

“Blue. Chinese food. Novelist. Um… What else?”

“Novelist?” West repeats, turning towards me. “That’s awesome! What kind of books do you write?”

“Short stories mostly,” I admit, a different heat rising to my face. “A little bit of everything.”

“Interesting.” West leans forward a little, pulling one leg under the other. “What made you want to write books?”

“I-I’m a lot better on paper than I am in person.” And I’m not that great on paper either, but I don’t tell him that.

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