My words roll off him and I shoot Zak a look. He frowns and snatches a drink from a passing Wolf, shoving it at Alex. He takes it, but the anger radiating from him is so intense, it does nothing to loosen the tight set of his jaw. That’s Alex, though. He’s always so serious. I’ve told him since freshman year, it’s because he doesn’t play sports. Whenever I’m wound up or stressed, I can take it out on the lacrosse field. Same with Zak.
The pressure has increased for our final year at Franklin West, though, and barely two weeks in, we’re all feeling it. Alex is president of the Wolves this year, and I’m vice-president. The vote was between me and Zak, but he knows I needed it more, so he didn’t even try. Need, not want. My dad was president back when he attended Franklin West, so the title is the closest I can get to consolation that I’m not president. That was never an option. Not with lacrosse taking up so much of my time. My stomach churns as the voice in the back of my head reminds me that my dad was captain of the lacrosse team, too.
Zak grabs my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts, as he starts to drag Alex toward the crowd of people writhing to the music, but I shake my head at the silent offer. Suddenly, I’m not in the mood for dancing. I watch them for a minute, Zak’s tall lean frame dominating the crowd as he tries to distract Alex from his brooding. It seems to do the trick, because within a matter of minutes, Alex has a cute brunette writhing up against him.
Exhaling, I roll my shoulders and try to get my head in the game. I need to enjoy this party. I need to enjoy thisyear.
Fuck it.
Weaving my way through the crowd, I make my way to the bar set up in the kitchen. The Hive and the Den have almost identical layouts, which can make things trippy as hell when you’re drunk. The drinks are all either black, yellow, or orange, which I figure is something to do with their ‘bee’ theme, so I grab the nearest concoction and take a sip. It’s surprisingly smooth, with something that tastes a little like honey, but I can’t place it.
“Any recommendations?”
I still at the deep rumbling tone, turning to find Wes Bowers beside me, frowning at the array of pretty drinks. He’s a big guy. I hadn’t realized how big until I found myself pressed up against him in a doorway. I’m six foot one, but he’s got a couple of inches on me. It’s not just the height, though. He’s broad as fuck. I’m more built than the average guy, but Wes’ swimmer shoulders all but eclipse mine. My gaze tracks the way his dark green t-shirt stretches over his chest and the way his biceps seem permanently flexed, the dark brown skin smooth yet hard.
“Sol, right?”
I blink, my skin heating as I realize I’ve been staring at the guy. “Yeah. Wes, right?”
It’s stupid. We’ve been at school together for three years. We both know exactly who the other is. We’ve probably spoken before, even if I can’t recall it.
I hold my drink up. “This one’s okay.”
He leans forward to sniff it, and my heart hammers in my chest. What the hell is that about? Am I scared of him? He’s an intimidating guy, for sure, with those dark eyes behind serious, black-rimmed glasses. But, no, it’s not that. As he pulls back, I’m hit by his cologne—something woody and ginger—and it almost has me leaning forward to chase the smell.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he says. “This is my last one of the night.”
Lifting my wrist, I glance at my watch. “It’s barely past nine.”
“Some of us have training in the morning,” he says, grabbing a cup and taking a tentative sip. His expression gives nothing away to say whether he likes it or not.
I frown. “I have training in the morning, too.”
“Oh?” Wes lifts a dark eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy, then?”
Leaning against the counter, I try my best not to shrink under his assessing stare. “It’s fine. It’s not like I have to worry about drowning.”
Wes grins, revealing a bright white smile, and a sense of achievement lights up inside me. I might not know the guy well, but I know he doesn’t smile easily and the fact that I coaxed one out of him makes me feel prouder than it probably should.
He looks different when he smiles. Younger. He’s a really good-looking guy when I think about it. From his square jaw, coated in dark stubble, to his piercing eyes, bright against his rich brown skin. And he has seriously great lips. I take another sip of my drink and his smile fades; what looks like confusion clouding his features.
I keep my own smile beaming as I nod toward the party. “If this is your last drink, does that mean you’re leaving soon?”
Wes stares at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he joins me, leaning against the counter. “That depends.”
I don’t know what the hell is in this drink, but it’s doing weird shit, because my heart keeps speeding up for no fucking reason. Frowning briefly at the dark liquid in my cup, I look out at the heaving crowd. “On what?”
“Whether I have a reason to.”
A list of reasons builds on my tongue, and I turn to share them, only to find Wes staring at me with that intense look he has. As his gaze drops to my mouth, I swallow.Fuck. Is he hitting on me? I replay our conversation in my head, but I’m at a loss.
Pushing away from the counter, I plaster a grin on my face. “Lots of reasons to stay. Good music, interesting drinks. Besides, it’s our last year, right? Last chance to make stupid decisions before being an adult kicks our asses.”
He nods, his frown deepening as I take a few steps backwards. It just got awkward as fuck again, so I lift my drink in a salute and head back into the party.
Joy, the captain of the women’s swim team, is on the decks and she’s amazing, the building seeming to vibrate in time with the music. I scan the room for Zak and Alex, but I can’t see them. It doesn’t matter, I need to do something to stop the weird, uncomfortable feeling that’s wrapping itself around my gut.
“Hey, you.”