Even as we stand and make our way to the exit, Zak pulling up his app to order us a ride back to campus, my gut tells me it’s a bad idea. But then again, every time I go after Wes, I get that feeling. A rush of nerves, excitement, and dread. Not dread at seeing him, but that he’ll turn me away. It’s why I followed him into the locker room last week. When he turned and walked away from me, it had stung, and I couldn’t let it lie.
I barely speak all the way back, but no one seems to notice or mind, as Alex taps away at his phone and Zak’s head lolls against the window, his mouth open as he snores gently.
My mind plays out a dozen different scenarios as we drive along the deserted mountain road that leads to Franklin West, and by the time Alex instructs the driver to let me out by the dorms, I’m ready to vomit.
I’ve been in the dorms before, of course. But as I stand, swaying slightly, in the freezing December night air, I realize I have no way in, and even if I did, I have no clue which room he’s in.Shit.
Turning back to the road, the cab is long gone, the red tail lights a speck in the distance as it pulls down the forked road that leads to the Den. It’s not exactly far, but the thought of stumbling across campus, cold and drunk, pulls a groan from my chest.
I collapse unsteadily onto the bottom stone step, wincing at the icy cold seeping through my jeans to my ass. The sound of a car engine grows near, and I sit up wondering if it’s the cab returning. I doubt he’d turn around and take me the five hundred meters to the Den, but I have a little cash on me. It might be worth a try. But it’s not him.
The vehicle comes to a halt a little further down the path, and as the doors open, I squint, trying to make out the small group that emerge, half illuminated by the dull orange glow of the ornate streetlamps that line the campus.
“Clara!” My eyes light up at the sight of the women’s lacrosse team captain, closely followed by Kayleigh, one of their middies, and Gale, their goalie. They’re clearly smashed, and as they walk toward me, their arms draped over each other to steady themselves, it curves my lips into a mocking smile. Even though I’m probably in a similar state myself.
Clara towers over the other two, although some of that has to do with the huge heels she’s wearing. I blink, wondering how drunk I am. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in heels. Her dress is also uncharacteristically short, showing off her long, toned legs. As they pass under the nearest streetlight, I realize why. They’re all dressed as what looks like some sort of anime character, each with a colored wig and short skirt.
“Making the most of preseason?” I tease, pushing to my feet.
Clara offers me a one finger salute as she passes, her pink wig hiding her usual dark blonde waves.
“Are you looking for Peyton?” Gale slurs. Her blue wig has slipped, covering one eye. “Because she’s not with us.”
Clearly. “No. I was actually looking for a . . . friend.”
The girls slow to a halt, their swaying making me a little motion sick. I hope they’re going to let the Peyton thing slide. I shouldn’t really have hooked up with someone on the team, even if we don’t technically play together. Whenever we talk, it’s not awkward, but the fact they’re asking if that’s who I’m looking for, makes me wonder if she’s said something to them.
“Which friend?” Clara asks. “Aren’t all your friends at the Den?”
I narrow my eyes, refusing to rise to her bait. “Do you know where I can find Wes?”
“Wes?” Gale asks. “Hot newspaper Wes?”
Kayleigh bursts into giggles punctuated by a snort. “Hot newspaper.”
“Second floor, right at the end of the hall on the right,” Clara says.
A fresh rush of nerves floods my system. “Thanks. Don’t suppose you could let me in, too?”
Clara rolls her eyes, but as she frees her pass from her purse and swipes it over the lock, she lets it stay open long enough to let me through.
“Thanks,” I say. “Do you need any help?”
Kayleigh has collapsed, still giggling, on the steps to the first floor, while Gale tries and fails to disentangle herself from her wig.
Clara sighs and shakes her head. “No. Thanks, Brooker. We’ll be fine.”
I nod and start up the stairs, feeling a lot more sober than ten minutes ago. Perhaps it’s the adrenaline coursing through my veins, or the fact that nerves are causing me to sweat out the alcohol faster. It’s no matter, though, because I already know Wes won’t do anything if I’ve been drinking. As much as Zak and Alex goaded me into coming here tonight, it’s not with the intention of getting off. I mean, that would be nice, but it’s not my goal. I just want to tell him that . . .
My steps slow as I reach the second floor, the corridor deserted, although music and voices leak under a few of the doors. What do I want to tell him? That I’ve grown balls? That I want to fuck around with him? My stomach flipflops as I reach his door.Fuck. This is the worst idea.
Sucking in a breath, I shove my shoulders back and knock. It’s almost one thirty in the morning, and although it’s Friday before winter break, there’s a chance he’s asleep. Especially if he has to be up to catch a flight home. I’m not even sure where he lives.Fuck. Fuck. Shit.This is ridiculous.
I knock one more time, a little louder. This time, a door opens, but it’s not his. A head of long chestnut brown hair appears from the room next door, eyes widening as they see me.
“Sol? What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Ella. How’s it going?”