“Just answer.”
“No.” He quickly broke eye contact.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His nostrils flared, he looked down and then his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Ask me after Homecoming.”
“Huh? Why after Homecoming?”
He shrugged. “I can’t lie to you, so ask me after Homecoming. Then I’ll tell you.”
“You’ll tell me why sometimes you look healthy as a horse and other days you look like you can barely stand?”
“All of it.” His voice was thick and hoarse. “I promise.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t satisfied, not by a long shot. Maybe he had diabetes or something else like that? Heck, I knew how guys were with being sick especially if they were anything like my Uncle. Pride was huge, and it was entirely possible he was just embarrassed about all of it.
His muscled arm came around my shoulders as he pulled me to him. “Time to spoon, Lamb.”
“I’ve only ever spooned with you.”
“Good,” he whispered in my ear. “I want your firsts to be with me… that way I can kill whoever gets you second.”
“I only want firsts.”
He ran his left hand over my hip. “I want that too.”
“Goodnight, Wes.”
“Night, my little lamb.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Time is going by way too fast — my body can feel it, my soul hates it, and my heart is breaking every damn day.
Weston
The weekend with Kiersten was at the top of my list as best weekends ever. Friday I hadn’t been in the mood to do anything except mope around. We watched movies all day and ate popcorn balls.
Saturday we swam some more and Sunday I helped her put together her schedule for Spring Semester. She was still trying to pick a major. She said she wanted to pick one and have it over with — her idea was that her major should be purposeful, she wanted a purpose in her life. I couldn’t blame her for that, so I just stayed silent and helped her pick the Gen Eds she would need anyways.
By the time Monday rolled around, I knew the clock was not going in my favor. I had started my new meds and hadn’t dealt with that kind of nausea since starting my treatment. Both David and James were worried, especially since I had one more football game before I was officially off the team.
She’d never seen me play.
I’d always played for the team, for the fans, for my dad, for Tye, even for myself. I’d never in my life played for a girl. It was special, and I wanted to do a good job, which meant I had to haul ass to practice when all I really wanted to do was puke and sleep. Food had completely lost its taste. In fact, it had been slowly getting worse ever since last month. Kiersten obviously didn’t know, but it was like every time she ate, I tried to imagine what it tasted like. Tried to remember how turkey tasted, how sugar tasted.
Concentrating on those things just made me feel weak. I mean, how lame was it that a six foot four, two hundred twenty pound guy was upset because he couldn’t taste turkey anymore?
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and did another dead lift. Tony was spotting me as usual, when Coach came up behind us and took his spot.
“You up to it?” he asked as I did another lift.
“Yup.” I clenched my teeth as I threw the weight down. “I’ve got this.”
“M’kay.” Coach looked away and wiped at his eyes. “And if there’s anything I can do—”
“I’m not dead yet, Coach.” I snapped.