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“I’m … fine, I guess.”
Wes chuckles. “It’s a good thing nobody’s out here because you don’t look fine. You look like you’re being fucking kidnapped.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you kidnapped me,” I joke. “Besides, you’re too pretty to be a kidnapper. It defeats the purpose if girls go with you willingly.”
“Hold up,” Wes says, stopping to bend over and pick something up.
I hear a familiar metal rattle but can’t figure out what it is.
“So, you think I’m pretty, huh?” Wes asks as we start walking again. I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“Boy, you know you’re pretty. Don’t go fishin’ for compliments.”
“Nah.” Wes snorts. “I’m ugly wrapped in a pretty package. But you …” The deep rasp in his voice vibrates all the way down my spine as Wes leans in and presses his lips to my temple. “You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” I feel his fingertip slide down the bridge of my nose and over my mouth and chin as if he’s admiring my profile. Then, it continues lower, stopping right between my breasts. “Even in here.”
I blush, grateful for the blindfold so that I don’t have to drop my eyes in embarrassment.
“Step up.”
I do as he said and feel the asphalt turn to soft earth beneath my feet. A few feet later, he pulls me to a stop and turns me so that I’m facing something that blocks out the sun.
“We’re here. You can take your blindfold off but only look straight ahead, okay?”
“Wes, I … I’m scared.”
“I’m right here. You wanna sleep in a bed again someday? You wanna take a hot shower and eat food that wasn’t cooked over a metal barrel?”
I nod, feeling my heart rate skyrocket.
“Well, this is the first step, baby. Take off your blindfold.”
I take a deep breath, drawing as much strength from him as I can. I lost my mama and daddy. Wes lost his mom and sister. I was left behind by my boyfriend. Wes was rejected by thirteen different foster families. I dealt with mean girls at school. Wes was the new kid at half a dozen high schools. If he can stand out here and be ready for whatever happens next, then maybe I can too.
Sliding the ribbed tank top off my head, I bring it to my nose and inhale. The scent of Wes overpowers all my other senses, making me feel happy.
Making me feel brave.
I crack open my eyelids, letting in a tiny sliver of my surroundings, before I open them the rest of the way in surprise. We’re standing two feet in front of the faded green PRITCHARD PARK MALL exit sign next to the highway.
Wes wraps a firm hand around my jaw, holding it straight. “Don’t look anywhere but here, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply, too curious to be afraid.
I hear the metallic rattle again and smile when it gets louder and faster.
“I noticed this can of spray paint on the ground the other day, and it made me think of you.” Wes chuckles, shaking the can in his hand.
“Why me?” I smile.
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because of the Welcome to Fucklin Springs sign in front of your house?”
I grin. “Shartwell Park is my personal favorite.”
“So, you admit that you’re a vandal?”
“I prefer the term wordsmith.” I smirk, accepting the can of neon-orange spray paint in Wes’s outstretched hand.
“See, take this sign.” I pop the cap off with an experienced thumb. “A vandal would just draw a coupla dicks on it and move on.” I cross out the P in Pritchard and easily turn the R into a letter B.
