His Mafia Prince

(WESLEY)

Justin follows me into my little apartment. I’m embarrassed at how empty and drab my apartment looks, but Justin doesn’t seem to care about that. He only cares that he has eyes for me. Knowing that makes my stomach churn. I really don’t want to hurt him. He has been kind and protective towards me.

Last night when I passed out at work, Justin was there to catch me in time. If Justin wasn’t there to grab me before I hit the ground, I would have seriously been injured. He protected me. That act alone should make me turn to him more. He is proving to me that I can trust him. That I can lean on him. If I were normal, I would have accepted that. But I’m not normal. I’m so messed up. Justin’s acts of protection only make me think about Jericho more. Because Jericho protected me too.

I need to stop thinking about Jericho.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I ask as I head into the kitchen, trying to shake away the lewd thoughts of Jericho creeping in my brain. "I don’t have so many beverages, but I have some white wine and ginger ale."

Justin follows me into the kitchen. "Ginger law sounds good. Although, we never had that drink together."

"No. We didn’t." I smile. "I sure need something to help me relax. I’m as tight as a guitar string."

"Well then. I guess wine it is." Justin says as he goes to open the nearest cupboard. When he finds it empty, he laughs. "You don’t have many dishes."

"No." I wince. "I don’t. In fact, it’s just occurring to me now that I don’t have wine glasses."

Justin glances up at the refrigerator and reaches to the top to grab a package of red solo cups. "I bet these will do? We don’t need any fancy stuff."

"Yeah, right. Those will do." I sigh. "Sorry. I don’t usually have guests."