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I know you have a heavy heart
I can feel it when we kiss
So many men stronger than me
Have thrown their backs out trying to lift it
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Wow.
That fucked him up.
He never thought a kiss could do that…
Wrigley blinked at the morning sky. It was going to be a gray and overcast day.
Bree and him sat on concrete steps, waiting for either one to speak. He rested his forearms on his knees, hands brushing together, Bree was doing the same, except her purse dangled in between her legs. He looked to his left, noting Bree snapped her eyes away from him so quickly…
Guess that kiss fucked with her head too.
Wrigley struggled to hide his smirk.
“I don’t know what to do,” she began.
Taking a wary breath, Wrigley considered her likely feelings on the situation. Bree was Evan’s girlfriend. His best friend’s girlfriend. And despite the wondrous kiss they shared, there was a strong possibility she loved Evan a lot and wasn’t willing to risk that for a shot in the dark with him. “If you want me to, uh…” God, he didn’t want to say it. “If you want me to pretend that this never happened, I, uh…I will.”
He can pretend. He can try.
It won’t be easy.
She just looked so ethereal, yet so lost… “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Wrigley asked, disbelief coloring his tone. Bree nodded at him desperately, her eyes stuck on his lips, searching for some form of answer to help her pick a direction on where to go from here. To help her decide what life path to take…
And possibly…wanting another taste of him too.
“Right now? I want to fucking kiss you again.”
Bree sighed. Oh…he read her mind—that didn’t help any.
“But I also want to not be a complete fuck-up that hurts everybody, so…”
Well, that’s something to agree on. “Yeah.”
“I’ve been really confused the past few weeks. I really have…” Wrigley rubbed his palm against the knuckles of his other hand, internally debating with himself. A quiet confusion that built for weeks made itself known to her, “I think about you a lot.”
“Me too.”
His face elevated in surprise, nodding as tranquil thoughts traveled in his brain.
Confusion disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
The crease in her brows pushed together. “I thought I was maybe imagining it—”
“No. No, you weren’t. You weren’t.” Wrigley shifted his bottom, the hard surface he sat on hurting his lower back, but his excitement overthrew the ache. Silence befell them, but it was somehow not awkward, just… a lot of thinking going on.
It was hard. Dating someone you care so much about, have been with for such a long time that you don't think of falling for anyone else while you’re with them. But he did. He fell for someone else. And he fell fast and hard for her. She sat next to him, so alluring he wanted to kiss her again—he never wanted to kiss a girl like this before in his life. She was telling him she thought about him the same way he had for weeks. This was an opportunity many don’t get in a lifetime; an opportunity he was willing to take in a heartbeat.
Wrigley opened his mouth, but stopped to press his lips together so firmly the pink of them disappeared. No, he had to say this, he had to do it. Squeezing a hand into a fist, rubbing his thumb against it a few times—a nervous habit of his, he blurted, “I’m going to break up with Pippa.”
“What?” Bree gasped. “No, I—”
“Yeah—”
“I–I’m not, like, asking you to do that—”
“No. No, I’m not saying that you are. I just…” He never wanted her to think she was the reason for breaking up his and Pippa’s relationship. Bree needed to understand that Pippa and him…
They were no longer…in love.
He almost believes they never were. At least not in that way.
“I’m not–I’m not saying that. It’s just—And it’s not just because of this,” he stumbled through his explanation, but could you blame him? The most desirable thing was in the palm of his hand and he had to be delicate with the beating organ that gave her life if he wanted to keep it. “I mean, this… this makes things pretty clear. But, um, I don’t even–I don’t think Pippa is in love with me anymore. I think we’re just best friends. But either way, I'm not—I’m not gonna keep lying to her…” He massaged the ache in his chest. Pippa meant a lot to him, but this was right. “And I’m not—I’m not asking you to do anything. I don’t know where your head’s at.”
Bree inhaled sharply, tucking hair behind her ear nervously. She actually did know where her head was at. As Wrigley spoke, he made her realize what she wanted. And this was it.
“Hey.” Placing his hand on her shoulder, he waited until her worried eyes met his. “I really care about you.”
Bree nodded, sealing her lips together thinkingly, then, “I really care about you, too.”
Something in her fluttered at his triumphant grin. Bree never had this feeling so intense before; it made her think she needed a doctor. Spending too much time with that smile was sure to have her running to the hospital because her insides were going to explode. Maybe someone put a bomb in her without her knowledge? Maybe she ate too many cherries? They used to be her favorite and at one of her foster homes her foster mother told her not to have so many or her stomach was sure to burst—Anyway, maybe she has a disease? A scary one. That also makes her feel lightheaded sometimes and—
Ugh. The doctor would laugh at her like she was an idiot. Then tell her…
It’s just love.
Weird thought process she conjured up in her head right now. But she couldn’t think of anything else at this moment when stupid in love was all that sat in front of her.
Stuck in enrapturement, Wrigley laughed and helplessly, with joyful tears obscuring her view, she laughed with him.
But then another thought coursed through…
Evan.
Laughter dying, Bree eyed her fidgety fingers and said surely, “I’m breaking up with Evan too.”
Temporarily ignoring his exhilaration, Wrigley breathed in deeply before stressing, “Only if that's what you want.”
“It is.” She was sure, so sure, she could burst—damn cherries. “I feel like this…this could be something good.” Groaning internally, Bree fretted, “And I don’t want to fuck it up because we’re both lying.”
“Yeah,” Wrigley said under his breath.
Needing that reassurance from him again, she questioned, “You do feel like this is a real thing, though?”
“Yes. Yes.”
That was surest he ever sounded.
Heart beating too fast, Bree drew in a deep breath. “Okay.” Worry dissipated; cherry hungry butterflies flapped its wings in her stomach, signalling her wants and desires and… him.
Bree’s face lit up and Wrigley had never seen a light so blinding it brought him to the sight of those pearly gates he never believed in, a sense of atonement…
Or a calling.
One last shaky breath in and out, Bree calmingly bubbled, “Okay…okay.”
“Okay,” he shared her joy. Then settled with an overwhelming, but awfully relieving, breath, “Okay…”
They were doing this. These weeks have been a whirlwind and now they could rest and find peace within each other and what they are—
But…
“What then?”
Eyeing the dog walking across the street with its owner, Wrigley thought for a moment and made a noise in the back of his throat, “Oh, yeah…”
Bree faltered, “Because we can’t just like, become a thing…”
“Well, we can let stuff settle for a bit, and then we can figure out…” Wrigley found her eyes again. He knew this was it. “...What this is.”
A slow, however tamed grin rose on her lips. The light that guided him dazzling her eyes—even out-shining the sun that broke through the clouds.
It’s not overcast, he guessed.
That was what he wanted to see, every morning when he woke up, for the rest of his existence.
Bree said softly, “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Wrigley chuckled breathily.
“Okay,” Bree repeated; calmer and quieter.
Memorizing the threads in the green of her irises, Wrigley matched her soft tone, “Okay.”
They mirrored each other’s nods. As Wrigley memorized her, Bree memorized him. The soft plump lips that could make her feel gentle in a time of doubt and insecurity. Eyes so blue, it was calming enough to sink herself deep into and get lost. Sadly though, she couldn’t do that right now. “I should go home.”
“What?” She broke him out of his trance.
A trance she understood all too well. She giggled hushedly, “I have my exhibit.”
“Oh.” He forgot about that. Actually, he forgot where they were entirely. “That’s right.” Chewing on his cheek, Wrigley watched her pick up her things. “All right, I’ll…I guess I’ll see you later.” He pushed himself off the steps.
“Yeah.” Bree shyly shuffled on her feet, swinging her purse as he came to hover, body nearing hers. He bent so close to her face that their breath mingled. Bree marginally retreated, bashful, but willing all the same. Breath hitched and with little contemplation, she rose on her tippy toes and met his lips.
It was short. Quick.
Too quick.
But it brewed the hot liquid in her belly, causing the butterflies to swarm and fight for life.
She needed another. He needed another.
He pulled her in, crushing her to his chest and kissed away all and any doubt and fear from her head. Wrigley replaced it with confidence and promise. He cupped her jaw, lips slow and leisured against hers.
Grudgingly pulling away, Bree sighed. “Okay.” Dragging her teeth over her lower lip; she savored the taste of him he left behind. “It's the last one for a while.”
Foreheads nudging one another, his hands unable to let go.
Neither separating.
“Okay,” Wrigley breathed. “That’s the last one.” Bree hummed her agreement, her fingers cramping from her hard grip on the lapels of his jacket; his smirk enticing her to never free him. “We’re done here. That's the last—”
This time when he kissed her. It sealed the deal.
She wanted him for life.
Well, that was a shitshow.
Breaking up with Pippa was no easy feat. Her reaction was… unexpected. Wrigley didn’t know she was going to be so angry with him. Didn’t know she would hate him so much. It made him feel off-putting, but he tried his best to reflect on it later. He wanted to stay focused on his heart's current wants.
Bree’s exhibit was massive, though her section was small; to him, it was all he could see. She was standing there with Lucy, looking gorgeous as ever. God, he was fascinated, her beauty was so vivid, so captivating. Her heart and brain were beautiful too. He’s not one of those jackasses who only sees the beauty from the outside and not the person within. He saw more than what was external. To think of her heart, Wrigley would have to think about how much strength he would put into taking care of it. He had enough strength for both of them. It was only that doubt could sometimes take hold. Bree wasn’t the only one drowning in insecurity.
‘There’s something wrong with me…I don’t feel normal—’
Shit. Now he was thinking of Pippa again.
Wrigley’s chest rose and fell; Bree was so delicate in nature. So sweet, so kind. He wanted to be strong for her so bad.
Unlike Evan. Who had her heart in his hands and dribbled with it like it was a fucking basketball.
Wrigley stared at her for so long, Bree could feel his eyes. She met them with a gradual smile.
He walked over with the same grin.
“Hey,” she greeted, smiling wider.
“Hi. Is your mom here yet?”
Bree fumbled in her stance. “Not yet.”
“It’s gonna be great,” he assured. Her smile glued on that glowing face of hers; he almost didn’t want to tell her in case it shifted things in her mind, but, “I, uh…I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you this, but I did break up with Pippa.”
Her smile faded. Damn. “What, already?’
“Felt wrong to wait.”
“Well…” Pippa was not only her roommate, but one of her best friends. They had their troubles with staying close, but she cared too much for her to see her heartbroken. “Is she okay?”
“She’s pretty upset.”
More like a lot upset.
The room suddenly felt hard to breathe in. Bree looked over at her walls of pictures.
If she cared so much about Pippa, why wasn’t her picture as big as Lucy’s? Or Wrigley’s?
“Hey,” Wrigley began to soothe, “It’s not your fault.”
No, she isn’t a good friend—her mind kept screaming at her. “Oh, god…”
“It’s not your fault.”
Hand on her chest, she alleviated her racing heart. “I feel terrible.”
“No, don’t.” Gaze falling, he reassured—even himself, “It was, uh, it was the right thing to do…”
It just takes time.
“Hey, have fun tonight, okay?”
Bree’s eyes moved over his shoulder, then worriedly to his. “Okay.”
The sharp noise of cackling cut in. Evan and Bree’s mom, Mary, walked down the steps.
Figuring out her new worry, Wrigley tipped his head the opposite direction, not wanting to make a scene. “I’ll just go.”
For her mom to see him and Evan there? It would be a disaster. He knew Mary from when they drove to see her in New Jersey—where he ambushed Bree’s time with her. Mary would no doubt remember him. The problem was Evan didn’t know he was with Bree that day. He was already upset that she even went to visit.
“Okay,” Bree said sadly, watching him leave, until Evan and Mary were close enough. “Hi!” Bree went to her mother for a hug.
“Hi! Hi,” Mary exclaimed, a bit more buoyant than usual. “Are we late? I'm so sorry.”
Bree held her tighter in her arms. The feeling of the woman who brought her life and finally getting to know her, couldn’t be explained. It was like she could find herself, find her place in this world for once. “No, you’re not late.” She withdrew from her. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. This is so amazing. This whole campus is so amazing…” Mary slurred. Bree chuckled uncomfortably. She didn’t notice it at first when they embraced, but now…
Was that…alcohol on her breath?
“I’ve never been here before. I mean, you know that obviously. It’s just so…nice…”
The garbled words, the slow movement, the confusion…
The undesirable stress Bree had from before her talk with Wrigley came back full-force. “Yeah.”
Evan, for once, spoke up, “Hey.”
He looked just as disappointed as she felt. “...Hey.” Bree questioned him with her eyes.
“Oh my God,” Mary marveled at a section of photos. “Is this yours? This is beautiful.”
“Oh, no. No, my section is…” Bree pointed to the opposite wall “...over there.”
“Oh my God!” Mary walked to the large photo of Lucy, looking back at Bree with brilliant, drunken liveliness.
“Um…” Troubled, Bree chuckled between closed teeth, turning her way to Evan to whisper, “Has she been drinking?”
Evan said woefully, “She was like this when I picked her up.”
Unbelievable.
After talking with Lucy during her run-in with Stephen, Wrigley went back to Bree’s section.
Hands locked behind his back he ambled past her photos.
Wrigley wanted to keep his distance. For Bree’s sake. It was her night to shine and causing a scene would stress her more than she already was. He wasn’t going to make it hard for her.
He paused at the photo of him and timidly smiled. That day was the first of many where she would confide in him.
“Your photo could have been as big as the center one of that girl.”
Wrigley blinked out of his memory to look at his right. Mary stood next to him, in front of her own photo—though looking at his picture instead. Wrigley’s eyes tumbled to her hand, a white wine held strongly in it; reminding him of her alcoholism. He didn’t see her there, she must have walked up to him.
Seems keeping the distance was going to be another difficulty…
It’s starting to feel like too much.
“I can see why she likes you. You’re handsome and photogenic,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine.
He slowly regarded the inkling of jealousy in her tone. Computing it in his head, Wrigley knew it couldn’t be towards her daughter or him; it was unintentional. An underlying wound that never healed. He cleared his throat. “Your photo is nice too—”
“It’s too close,” Mary grumbled behind the rim of her glass. “She should have asked me before putting this photo up.” She did a onceover of the room. “Now everyone can see me.”
Wrigley tipped his chin up, calculating her. “Bree,” he began, “...is really excited you’re here.”
“Yeah,” Mary whispered, this time chugging more of the wine down her throat.
“I hijacked her reunion with you.” Mary granted him a sidelong glance, amusement tugging at her lips. “Wasn’t supposed to be there, but I could feel how nervous she was and something in me said… stay…” Wrigley trailed, his mind on Bree’s surprised and grateful look in his car that day. Even though he originally wanted to leave campus to run from his depression; Bree's presence made him forget his reasoning for running in the first place. When he flickered from beguiling flashback, Mary was giving him a scrutinizing look mixed with a hint of knowing. “A–anyway, when I saw you, immediately, I could tell you were her mother, you two look so much alike.” He faced her photo and murmured softly, “I always thought Bree was beautiful…”
Mary grumbled once more, “I know. I saw her and thought she was gorgeous. But she looks like her father.”
She really wanted to make this difficult for him…
Shoulders rising and falling in deep deliberation, he tried again, louder this time, “Thank you!”
Mary startled slightly, choking a little on her wine. Their small section echoed between them, but luckily not many patrons overheard. “Uh, for what?”
“When I…see your photo, I just…” His hand pointed firmly at the photo then formed it into an iron-fist. “I feel so much gratitude.”
She tittered a little at his flailing enthusiasm. “Why? It’s just a photo of me by a tree—”
“And you don’t know how much that day meant to me,” Wrigley’s tone turned serious, capturing Mary’s undivided attention. “Sure, it was her day…it was your day and it was her day to spend with you and to have you in her life again, but… I saw something that day. That moment. It changed my life…hell, probably forever.” His tone, his struggle, his eyes unwaveringly aimed at hers. Mary recoiled, stunned, yet intrigued, at how his intense look began to blur—her eyes heating up. “So thank you for not giving up on her. For not…” And then he took his deep breath. “Thank you for giving the most beautiful, kindest, gifted and most… enchanting soul a chance to be known and to be seen by the world. She deserved that chance. She deserves this chance now. So, uh, I think, I'm just...grateful.”
Mary gulped, the empty glass in her hand heavier than a minute ago. She blinked the blurriness away and sniffled, “Y–you’re sweet.”
“She’s sweet.” Wrigley smiled earnestly. “Please, don’t give up on her. She’s one day going to really need you. If you don’t want her to need you now, at least…leave your phone on…standby or something…”
Mary laughed, shaking her head in acceptance. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He nodded back.
“Hey,” Evan interrupted, walking up the steps to them.
Mary smiled big. “Hey, drinking buddy!”
That pulled a wrinkle on Wrigley’s face as he snapped his glare at Evan whose smile weakened. “Uh…”
Before he could question that, Wrigley’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his jean’s pocket and read the caller ID.
Pippa’s timing couldn't be any better.
“I have a…call to take. I’ll be right back.” He left Mary and Evan with a nod. Breathing in heavily through his nose, he prepared himself.
Mary squinted at Wrigley as he plodded away, then narrowed further on Evan. “So, where’s your photo?”
“Oh…” He pointed to the upper right corner. “Right there.”
“Small,” she observed in a veiled provoking tone. “So high up, I can't even see it.”
“It is small…” At first thought, he assumed it was because they were currently at odds. But then he looked ahead. And Wrigley's thoughtful face obscured his view. A scowl spanned over Evan's brow. “Wonder when this photo was taken…”
Mary shrugged, sighing sadly at her glass being empty. “Mmm, probably when they went to visit me.”
Evan spun to her. “Visit you?”
“Oh, yeah, he came. Drove her there,” she hiccuped, sticking her tongue inside her glass as she tipped it over to get the last drop.
A heat surged up his neck as Evan’s drilling gaze drifted to where Wrigley leaned on a wall. His back towards them, his shoulder muscles tensed as he spoke on his cell.
When Mary realized she had to get another glass, she turned back to Evan, but his eyes were angry this time… and boring into that Wrigley kid.
Interesting.
Mary wasn't always that perceptive but, she could tell Evan was sophisticated. He bought round after round at the bar they went to. He dressed all wealthy and in what seemed like a designer brand.
That Wrigley probably had some middle class funds rolling around his pockets, but definitely not as much as the guy in front of her…
Such a contrast. Talking to Evan, she could see the high-class, somewhat pretentiousness. He also loved her daughter. She was sure her daughter loved him back—somewhere in these pictures.
She might need a microscope to see it right now.
While with Wrigley he cared for Bree that much was blatant with his little, loving speech, but in the long run? So not enough. She knew that from her own needy, lacking life.
From the look of things, Bree cared for Wrigley in return…
But who wouldn't want better for their daughter? Or better for herself for that matter.
Eh, Bree will thank her later…
“And, you’re, like, her boyfriend, right?”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he swallowed his unease, flicking his eyes back to hers. “What makes you think I’m not?”
Eyes bulging at the corner photo of him, lips downturning in an faux unsure mask. Mary insinuated, “It’s just…your picture is…very small…”
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The love I sell you in the evening
By the morning won’t exist