“Well, it’s that simple,” Dad says. “You don’t need a label to justify your feelings. Give him today to calm down and to give yourself time to figure out what you need to say. If he likes you as much as we think he does, he’ll listen.”
My head is spinning. So far, my relationship with Wes has just been between us. Sure, Zak and Alex know, but I haven’t told them that I want more. That I think I’m falling for him. Because, as much as it terrifies me, I am.
The fact that I can feel the faint bruises on my hips from where he gripped me as I lowered myself onto him and the deep burn in my hamstrings from where he stretched me as he fucked me to within an inch of my life, not to mention the soreness in my ass, makes me ache for him more. If it hadn’t been for my stupid reaction, we could be sitting here together. Maybe even holding hands. We could have even gone back to bed later. My chest is so tight, I can’t breathe.
“Want to go for a run?” Dad asks, his voice softer than I can handle.
I nod. “Yeah.”
Space and time are exactly what I need to get my head on straight. Perhaps for both of us. Then I’ll find Wes and tell him exactly how I feel.
I just hope he listens.
WES
I knew this would happen. Right from the very first kiss, I knew I’d end up getting screwed. And not in the good way. Sol texted me on Monday asking to see me, but I told him I was busy. He tried again on Tuesday and on Wednesday, but I blew him off again saying I was stuck finishing an assignment. Partially true. The truth is, I don’t want to hear his excuses. Sol makes me weak. If he shows up with his big blue eyes and perfect smile, there’s a strong chance I’ll cave. And I can’t.
Swim practice has me on edge, and every time I’m at Halston Hall, I’m looking over my shoulder wondering if Sol’s going to show up with lunch. Part of me hopes he does, but what the hell would I say to him? I can’t believe I let things go as far as I did. I let myself get dragged in by his perfect smile and beautiful body. My conscience laughs at me. It was a lot more than that. My chest aches as I think of Sol leaning into me as we walked around the block party, his nose red and his eyes bright as he laughed. I take off my glasses and rub my eyes.
It's Friday. Almost a week since. The shallow scratches on my back might have faded but the memory is as sharp as ever. As much as I try to block it out, the image of Sol’s perfect body, muscles straining, his head thrown back as I emptied inside him, is burned into my soul. The sounds he made taunt me in my dreams and I wake every morning desperate for him. But it will fade. It has to. Because it won’t happen again.
Putting my glasses back on, I stare at the sports page of The Howl on my screen. The lacrosse team has a full page spread announcing their first game of the season. The picture of Sol, with his team behind him, is like the poster from some blockbuster movie. Theia, our photographer, did an awesome job on it. We have a similar one for the swim team, but there’s something about the padding and the fierce looks on the lacrosse team’s faces that hits different.
“Are you coming?” Stefan asks from behind me.
I turn my chair to find him staring at my screen, his teeth dragging over his lip ring. As well as being a writer for The Howl, he’s been the lacrosse team’s goalie for the last two years. This will be his third season.
“Worried there won’t be a good enough turn out?” I joke. I might not go to lacrosse games, but I know the crowds they pull are twice the size of the swim team.
Stefan arches an eyebrow. “Hilarious. I meant because you and Brooker are friends. Right?”
My gut twists.Friends. “Yeah. Sort of.”
“You should come,” Stefan says. “Go Wolves and all that shit.”
I smirk. “You are the epitome of team spirit.”
He gives an exaggerated bow and returns to his desk on the other side of the computer lab. He’s one of the only people at Franklin West on scholarship, and he couldn’t be further from a stereotypical jock. He rarely smiles, dresses almost exclusively in gray or black hoodies and jeans and only removes his piercings for games. He’s a great writer, though, and apparently an excellent goalie. I sigh. I should go to the game. Evan Rose, another writer on the staff is a middie for the team, too. Fuck it.Go Wolves.
* * *
I hate crowds. Pulling up the hood of my green F.W.U. sweatshirt, I try to blend in with the swell of people pouring into the lacrosse stadium. They’re playing a team from South Washington University, with the women’s teams playing tomorrow. Small clusters of red begin to settle on one side of the bleachers, but they’re vastly outnumbered by the roaring green and white.
I spot Ella and Theia near the front, but I avoid them, choosing to let myself get swept up into the upper tiers instead. Coming to watch is one thing, but I don’t want Sol to see me.
Sol.
He’s out on the field with his team already as they warm up with passes and stretches. Since I blew him off for the third time on Wednesday, I haven’t heard from him. It looks like he finally got the message.
There might be twenty players on the field as the game kicks off, but my attention is on just one. I’ve seen Sol in his kit in photos for the paper but seeing it in real life is a whole other thing. With the shoulder padding and helmet, the measured aggression as he faces off against the other team, I’m transfixed. It’s no wonder he’s captain. The whole team is great, but Sol shines. He’s on attack with Zak, and Jackson Brown, and they’re relentless. There’s an effortless back and forth between Sol and Zak which can only come from years of playing together and the close friendship they have.
The first two fifteen-minute quarters fly by, and halftime arrives almost before I settle into the game. It’s only ten minutes, so most people stay in their seats, chatting excitedly about how Franklin West are annihilating the opposition. And they are.
I watch as Sol pulls off his helmet and gathers his team beside the coach for a talk at the side of the field. His hair is dark with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and I have to look away. My resolve lasts all of thirty seconds and when I look back, he’s laughing with Zak as he chugs water from his bottle.He should be mine. I shut the thought down as soon as it manifests. No. He shouldn’t. Even if I let things continue, this is how it would be. Me showing up to games as a ‘friend’ and then us sneaking around behind everyone’s backs. I’m not going to do that. I can’t. It’s too fucking hard.
Zak says something to Sol that makes his smile fade and my stomach clenches. But then, Sol turns to the crowds, his eyes scanning the faces, and my breathing quickens. Is he looking for me?Fuck. I duck my head, staring down at my feet, thankful for the fact I left my hood up. There’s no way he’ll spot me amongst this sea of green and white. It takes all my restraint to stay, staring at my sneakers, until the third quarter starts.
Exhaling, I lift my head to find the team back out on the field, helmets on and ready to continue their offensive. He might not have been looking for me, though. My pulse quickens as I realize his family are probably here somewhere. There’s no way they didn’t show for the first game of the season.