Neither of them tries to stop me. Whether it’s because they know I’m right or they know better than to try, I’m not sure. Either way, there’s nothing they can say or do to make me change my mind. This is for the best. Even if it hurts like hell.
SOL
My pulse is thunder in my ears as I push open the doors to the computer lab at Halston Hall. There’s a big sign that says ‘no food or drink’ that I haven’t noticed before, but seeing as I’ve brought Wes lunch before, and I’m sure I’ve seen other people eating and drinking, I’m sure it’s not a big deal.
There’s only one cup of coffee and one sandwich in my hands. I don’t think I could eat even if I wanted to. This weekend has been tough. I found out through Zak, who found out through Stefan, that Wes went back to Seattle. It was helpful to know I could walk around campus knowing I wasn’t going to bump into him, and it gave me time to clear my head.
I wonder whether he finally got the nerve to tell his dad about joining Alex’s dad’s company. If things were different, I could have gone with him. I wonder what his parents are like. Are they as hard to read as Wes? I can’t imagine them being as laid back as my folks, but you never know. I’ll probably never meet them. I push back the wave of sadness that thought brings and force myself to keep walking.
Although I agreed with Alex and Zak’s suggestion on Friday night, things didn’t seem quite so clear the next morning. For most of the weekend, I’ve swayed between trying to make Wes see what he’s missing and cutting him lose altogether. I only really decided this morning; making sure I shaved, wearing my favorite jeans, and the shirt that I’ve been told makes my eyes ‘pop’. But now, as I spot Wes’ bowed head at his computer, I’m starting to doubt the decision all over again.
I cough as I approach, but it’s no use. He has his earbuds in, and I know he can’t hear me. Stifling a sigh, I reach out and tap him on the shoulder.
His eyes widen as he realizes who’s standing behind him and he fumbles slightly as he pulls out his earbuds. “Sol.”
“The one and only,” I say, handing him the coffee and sandwich.
He stares at them until I thrust them forward again and he’s forced to take them. I can’t help but notice his stubble is gearing more toward beard and he’s dressed in gray sweats. Where I’ve made the effort I would for a date, Wes looks like he’s just rolled out of bed. It might be petty, but it eases the weight on my chest a little.
“You didn’t need to do this,” he says, frowning at the sandwich as though it’s personally offended him.
“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” Grabbing an empty chair, I wheel it over and straddle it, resting my arms on the back. I hope he can’t see my hands trembling. “We need to talk about the fundraiser.”
Wes blinks. “Yeah. We do.”
He puts the sandwich down and takes a sip of the coffee, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.
It hurts, being this physically close to him. I suspected it would, but I wasn’t prepared for how much. It overpowers the lust that usually fills the air between us, and I wonder whether this thing between us truly is broken.
“The auction items are finalized,” Wes says, turning to his computer and pulling up the shared spreadsheet we’ve been using to keep track of everything. “The catering is booked, courtesy of Maggie Dwight’s mom’s hotel, and I have three companies sending over samples for decorations. They’ll be here for approval before the end of the week.”
I exhale, forcing a smile. “Brilliant. I actually wanted to talk to you about another idea.”
“Oh?” Wes turns, and as his eyes quickly glance over me, I straighten, turning my smile up a notch.
“Yeah. Jackson cornered me after the game on Friday. He suggested a live auction geared toward students.”
Wes frowns. “What do you mean?”
“An auction of services or things for fun that the student body can bid on,” I explain. “For example, Zak’s offered a one-to-one lacrosse coaching session.”
Wes leans back and takes another sip of his coffee as he mulls over the idea. “It could work. I’ll ask Aldo if he’ll offer a swimming lesson. I’m sure we can get others involved. I can design some vouchers to make it official.”
“Great!” I smile. “I’ll ask around, too. It’ll be fun.”
Wes’ lips curve into a small smile, and my chest tightens. I’m not an actor and pretending that being this close to him isn’t killing me, is more exhausting than four full quarters of a lacrosse game. All I want to do is climb onto his lap and breathe him in. But I can’t. And now it’s time to do what I’ve been gearing up to all weekend.
“Look,” I say, pushing a hand through my hair. “About what happened Friday night.”
Wes’ eyes widen slightly behind his glasses, and he shifts in his chair. It takes everything I have to keep the smile on my face. Is he nervous because he doesn’t want to talk about it? Is he worried I’m going to pressure him for a relationship again?
“I just wanted to say, no hard feelings.” I shrug. The picture of fucking nonchalance. “We work well together, and I don’t want anything to affect the fundraiser, so do you think we can be friends?”
Wes’ expression is as unreadable as ever, but even so, I swear there’s not one iota of relief there. “Friends?”
I smile. “Exactly. If we set an initial deadline of Wednesday to find at least three more student auction prizes, we can meet and compile the list. Then hopefully the decorations will be here, so we could meet Friday to finalize those. How does that sound?”
Wes gives a single nod, his gaze fixed so determinedly somewhere over my shoulder that I have to fight the urge to turn around and see if there’s someone there. “Sure.”