“Great.” I stand up and tuck the chair back under its desk. “See you on Wednesday.”
I walk away without looking back, wondering if he’s watching me, or if he even cares. The fact that he didn’t say anything—didn’t question my request—hurts like hell. I’m not surprised. He didn’t fight for us on Friday night, so why would he now?
It’s only when I step outside, that I let my bravado slip, my shoulders sagging with the weight of what I’ve just done. If this is all for nothing, and Wes really does want to be nothing more than friends, at least it’s only for few weeks. Once the fundraiser is done, I never have to speak to Wes Bowers again.
Drawing in a shaky breath, I force my feet in the direction of the Den. I deserve a goddamn Oscar for that performance. That said, I have no idea if he bought it. And now I have a repeat performance on Wednesday.
Great.
Just, great.
WES
Being friends with Sol is torture. Friends.Friends. I scowl at the word and glare at the foam on top of my cappuccino. This morning saw the final swim meet of the season, so my parents drove down to Franklin West to support me. It also worked out well with the fundraiser tomorrow, so they’re staying in a hotel tonight to be close.
The end of swim season didn’t feel as good as it should have. Coach McMann is still on leave, and the assistant coach just isn’t the same. Both Aldo and Joy have been missing practices and honestly, it’s a miracle we haven’t lost every meet. Despite my own head not being in the game, I won four out of six races. I didn’t beat any of my personal records. But that’s not surprising. Doing my best isn’t something I can seem to do anymore and losing doesn’t carry the same weight. I’ve already lost the only thing I care about losing.
The overly squashy sofa near the front window of Grinds shifts as my mom clears her throat and I look up and force a smile, wondering if she asked me a question or told me off for zoning out.
It’s been a month since Sol showed up at Halston Hall with lunch. Four weeks since my heart soared, thinking for one glorious second that life had handed me a second chance. After a weekend apart and another stern telling off from Toby, I was gearing myself up to beg for forgiveness. But then, he’d shown up looking like a million fucking dollars and told me we should be friends.Friends.
The first week was the worst. We met on Wednesday at Grinds and Sol sat there, listing the offers he’d gotten from his frat brothers and the sorority, with a smile that could have lit the entire state. I sat there and nodded, trying to pretend that being so close to his joy wasn’t painful.
The decorations came in on Thursday, so we met Friday as planned to approve them. Sol video called Jacey. I was prepared for her to be off with me, but she didn’t act any different than she had that weekend. Perhaps it’s because her big brother is so clearly over me.
The second week was better. Just. We stuck to our schedule of meeting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with the proviso that we’d reschedule if it clashed with swimming or lacrosse, but it never did.
Each time we meet, it leaves me feeling drained and hollow, but I would never dream of missing one. I smile more when I’m with him, and I like the way he makes me feel. But I always did. Spending time with Sol is a privilege and it’s one I cherish, even if it’s hard having a front row seat to what I could have had.
Whenever I try and dig deeper, asking how he’s doing with everything, he brushes it off. I haven’t forgotten what he said to me at his house—about not being perfect after all. I hate that he puts so much pressure on himself, but I hate myself more for fucking this up, because I could have been the person to help him ease that pressure. I wanted to be that person for him.
“Wes,” Mom starts, giving Dad a loaded look.
Before she can finish whatever gentle reprimand she’s planning, the annoying as hell jingle of the bell over the door of Grinds rings as someone walks in. I tense immediately, recognizing the easy laughter. Keeping my eyes forward, I watch my parents frown as the group move toward the counter, then their eyes widen in realization. It would be funny if I wasn’t dying inside.
I don’t need to turn around to know that Alex, Zak, and Sol are standing at the counter placing their orders. I hope they’re to go.
“Is that?” my dad hisses.
I close my eyes as though I might be able to will myself out of this situation. There’s a chance he hasn’t seen me. And even if he has, would he really come over when I’m with my parents? I mean we’re friends now, but where’s the line?
His all too familiar scent hits me a split second before his voice sounds behind me.
“Hi, Wes.” Sol steps between the sofas, looking gorgeous as ever in dark jeans and a white Henley with a black leather jacket.
My parents are fucking beaming, and I swallow a groan, forcing a smile instead. “Hey, Sol. These are my parents, Clyde and Lydia.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Sol steps forward and shakes their hands. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to your son for helping with the fundraiser. He’s amazing. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him.”
My mom gives me a pointed look before turning her smile back to Sol. “Why don’t you join us while you wait for your order?”
Sol grins and sinks down onto the sofa beside me, his thigh brushing mine, but if it affects him, it doesn’t show. He’s the picture of ease. It makes me want to throw my cappuccino against the nearest wall.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Mom asks. “I know you’ve both been working so hard.”
Sol exhales and gives me a nervous smile. “I think we’re as ready as we can be. I can’t believe it’s finally here.”
“It’s a wonderful cause,” my dad says. “Your sister is lucky to have a brother like you.”