“Oh, Wes.” My mom moves over to sit beside me, squeezing my thigh. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I force out. “We’re friends. That’s it.”
Dad laughs and shakes his head. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, that’s fine, but I thought you were a man of facts and statistics.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m by no means an expert in body language,” he says, folding his arms with a smug smile, “but while he was sitting there, he looked at you fourteen times, blushed twice and his leg was pressed against yours the entire time.”
“I’m not sure whether I’m impressed or disturbed,” I mutter. “What does that have to do with anything?”
My mom rolls her eyes. “I swear, considering you were valedictorian, you can be really dense sometimes.”
“I have lots of male friends,” Dad explains, using a patient tone I haven’t heard since elementary school, “and we don’t look at each other like that. You might be friends, but he’s still as hung up on you as you are on him.”
For a split second, my heart leaps at his words. But then I shake my head. “You’re wrong. There’s no way he still feels anything for me after the way I treated him. He was being nice. It’s who he is.”
My parents share another loaded look and I put my coffee down on the low wooden table with enough force that the cold remnants slosh out over the side, startling them.
“Stop it,” I snap. “I’m aware how fucking wonderful he is, and there are no words to express how sorry I am that I messed it up and now you don’t get to have the son-in-law of your dreams. So, just . . . stop.”
Awkward silence settles over us, and I can’t bring myself to look at either of them.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. But you need to know that there’s still something there.”
I shake my head and stand. “If that’s true, then he’s even more stupid than I am. I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Stooping, I give them each a brief hug and head outside, desperate for fresh air. When I’m several meters away, I stop and close my eyes, gulping in the early spring air. With every inhalation, my parents’ words try to penetrate my defenses, but I shrug them off. The idea of hope is too much to bear. There’s no way Sol still has feelings for me. There’s just not. And tomorrow night, it’ll all be over.
SOL
Wes’ parents are nothing like I expected. His dad is smaller than I pictured and adorably geeky. I knew his mom owned an ethical beauty company, so her elegance and style weren’t a surprise. The fact that they’re so bubbly was. Why the hell is Wes so tightly strung?
I smile ruefully as I walk back to the Den with Zak. Although the first week Wes and I spent together is up there as one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, spending time together has become easier. Our lunch time meet ups are the highlight of my week, and I’ve become used to the tightness in my chest. So many times, I’ve almost gone to reach for him, but I’ve always managed to hold back.
Sitting next to him in Grinds was a true test of my willpower. I hadn’t actually meant to sit so close, but the sagging couch had pulled me toward him like quicksand. I swear I must have been a cat in a past life, because all I wanted to do was nuzzle into his neck and start purring.
There’s one glaring problem through all this, though. Zak and Alex told me to make him see what he’s missing, and I’ve been doing exactly that, but where does it end? The fundraiser is tomorrow, and then there’s no excuse to spend time with him anymore. This plan has run its course and now I’m out of time.
“Your thoughts are deafening, man,” Zak says, dragging me from my thoughts. “How was it meeting your boyfriend’s parents?”
I glare at him. “Awkward as fuck.”
Zak laughs. “They were practically drooling over you. Do you think he told them about you?”
My stomach gives a nervous twist. “I mean, as far as the fundraiser goes, sure. They said he’d told them lots about me.”
“That’s a good sign.”
I stop walking, forcing Zak to do the same. We’re almost at the Den and for a Friday afternoon, campus is quiet. I went to Wes’ swim meet after practice, but I snuck in and out, so he didn’t see me. Just like I have for every single one.
“How does this end, Zak?” I ask.
“How does what end?”
“This.” I gesture to my smart outfit, whereas Zak is dressed in head-to-toe dark green sweats. I miss my sweats. “I’ve done what you and Alex said, but it hasn’t worked. It’s over. I’ve had lunch with him three times a week for a fucking month, but Imisshim, Zak. I fucking miss him.”
Zak’s bemused grin falls, and he steps forward and gives me a one-armed hug, his coffee held out to the side in his other hand. “I’m so sorry, bro. I know it’s hard, but it’s working.”