Truth About Wes

I sat down and looked at the paper. No, not Wes. Why would he want a million dollars to kill you? He's an honest moviemaker who makes millions in his movies. Millions! He's not the bad guy, Jen. He's proven that. I had to agree with my conscience on this. There was no reason for him to kill me. He liked me! He told me many things that he should never have told anyone else. Why did he tell me? It was a lot, and most people wouldn't just out with the fact that they were abused by their parents unless, that is, they wanted sympathy.

Don't worry about it. He told you that's all that matters. He wants to gain your trust. He has, hasn't he? He had. Very much so. It was still odd, though. I knew my denial would cost me later, but this was my fairytale. I was going to get what I wanted for once. A surge of something very powerful shot through me. I wanted Wes all to myself. I chuckled to myself.

I heard steps on the stairs and tossed the paper under the table. Like that will do much good. I turned to see it was Wes. My heart began to thump with panic. I stood up and crossed my arms defensively. Once Wes was down the stairs, he saw my expression and smiled. He took me in his arms. It felt odd, but I didn't resist.

"Things will be ok," he told me. I had no idea why he was hugging me or why he had told me that, but it made me feel better.

"What about Shia?" I asked, stepping back.

"Shia? He'll be fine. He's asleep right now. I figured that you and I should talk," Wes said, smiling down at me.

"T-talk?" I asked.

"Yeah, about earlier."

"That was stupid...I shouldn't have--" he cut me off.

"It wasn't a mistake."

"Really?" I squeaked.

"One last time, and then let's call it quits? For now?" He asked.

Do it. "Ok."

I noticed that Wes was much taller than I was, but it didn't pose a problem. He bent down and kissed me with an open mouth that I wasn't expecting. I gasped, and he took advantage, pushing me against the wall. My back hit the light switch, and the lights blinked out around us. Wes kicked the door shut and broke away just to lock it.

He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, and began to kiss me again. I threaded my hands through his hair. It was so soft and short. His kiss became deeper as his hands found their way to the buttons on my shirt. He had the first four of ten buttons undone within seconds.

I felt transported to another dimension as he walked me to the table and laid me down. He followed with warm kisses on my cheekbone and the bottom of my lower jaw. Nothing but him and what he was doing was on my mind. Who cared that he was going to kill me? Who cared about anything? I closed my eyes to savor the feeling of his fingers on my skin.

~

I opened my eyes, but the heat of Wes's body wasn't on me anymore. I was sitting at the table, my cheek pressed against the Formica. The lights were on, and Wes and Shia's voices were above. There was an awful crick in my neck, and I lifted my head to relieve it. There was something in my hand, and I brought it up to look at it. It was the note from the Director crumpled in my hand. It had only been a dream. Nothing had happened between Wes and me. I checked my shirt—still buttoned—and pants—still zipped.

Sighing, I rested my head in my hands. This was all becoming too much. I had dreams about sleeping with Wes. That wasn't good. What if it happened? What if it happened? You'd be ok. "This is not the time to talk, so shut up," I told myself. Wes was a betrayer. I needed to tell Shia right away. That was the top priority. Just...minus the dream. That was embarrassing. I stuffed the note into my pocket and took a deep breath before I was to head upstairs and confront Shia with the truth about Wes.