3000 Miles (A Wesley Stromberg/Emblem3 Fanfiction)

Chapter Three

I couldn't remember the last time I'd woken up next to someone. I rolled onto my back, letting my hand fall down loosely only to be blocked by warm, solid flesh. Startled, I sat up quickly, and glanced down on my right. Sometime during the night, I'd ended up in Wesley's bed. He was laid out on his stomach with both hands underneath his pillow and a small puddle of drool formed under his cheek. I immediately hopped out of bed, taking into account that I felt nothing but well-rested.

He stirred, lifting his head and slurping softly. "Can I help you?"

"Hi," I breathed anxiously. "How'd I get over here?"

He looked at the unmade side of the bed and tried his best to frown post-sleep. "What are you talking about?"

"I was..." Accepting that he was even more confused than I was, I shrugged. "Are you up for the day? We have stuff to do,"

"Five more," he mumbled, laying in his drool spot and moving quickly.

"Let me rephrase that," I said, picking up his duffel bag and tossing it perfectly at the small of his back. "Wake up."

"My freaking computer is in this bag!" He whined, pushing it onto the bed and sitting up.

His bare chest had a red imprint of the sheet that he'd twisted underneath him. To me, it looked like the scar of a warrior, but to push the fantasy aside, I took the first use of the bathroom. Before I started the shower, I could hear him executing absent-minded vocal runs while he walked around the room gathering things. The whole time I stared at the white tiles, I pictured his upper body, well toned, chiseled to perfection, and tanned like the surfer boy he probably was.

"Yo, Malena," he droned, rapping on the door twice.

"Wait your turn," I called to him.

I finished up quickly, dressing and braiding my wet hair back in the absence of time. When I turned the corner of the hallway to give him the room, I ran dead on into him. His body radiated the warmth of recent sleep and smelled of old cologne and a hint of sweat, not a bad combo. It was more enticing than it needed to be, further irritating me.

"Don't be too long," I ordered him.

"Blah," he sassed, closing the door and starting a full on bathroom jam session.

The boy never stopped singing. While yes, I didn't mind it, I did mind his pride. His ego was up there. I listened, occasionally catching myself singing along as I went ahead and straightened up the beds and gathered all of our things for departure.

He exited, shirtless still, with a toothbrush between his teeth. "There's a Verizon store a few blocks away."

"Can you wear a shirt please?" I asked, throwing him a black t-shirt and looking away.

"I caught you staring last night," he said with a sly grin.

"I was asleep," I said, my cheeks getting warm.

He pointed his toothbrush at the mirror behind me. "Mirrors never lie,"

When he went back into the bathroom, I let go of the breath that I'd been holding and picked up my bag to get a head start. He followed quickly, catching up and pointing down at my shoes. "Ankle boots in summer? Someone's hardcore."

"Can you not?"

"I'm joking," he said, standing in front of me to stop my progression. "It's what friends do. They joke. Ha ha."

"We're not friends," I said, side stepping him and carrying on.

"Oh, I get it," he said, picking up the pace. "You're not a morning person!"