Page 73 of Level Up for Love

“It’s a bad idea,” I say slowly, enunciating every syllable, “because of what happened last time.”

“At the bar?”

“No. In college.”

His eyes melt from flints of obsidian to syrup in an instant. It’s the last reaction I expected. He rises from his chair, rounds the table, and sinks down into the seat to my left. He leans close enough to tuck my knees between his and circle my wrists with his hands. As he holds my gaze, I can see every sliver of color in his eyes: the dark umber, threads of caramel, and specks of gold only a few shades off from his hair.

He takes a long inhale before slowly releasing it in a shaky sigh.

“I was going to come back, Reagan.”

He looks down then, which is a relief; I might have caught fire under his stare if he’d held it any longer. He toys with my hands, turning my fingers this way and that, running his thumb along the chipped black paint on my nails.

This is it, I think. He’s about to tell me the truth. Only now I don’t know how to feel. It’s an answer I’ve always wanted from him—but what will I think after he’s laid it all bare? What will be left?

Wesley swallows, and his grip on my hands suddenly tightens.

“I was filling your water bottle in the sink when—when Owen found me.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “What?”

I understand now why he’s knotted our fingers together; as I try to jerk my hands back, he holds tight.

“Please. Let me say this. Owen found me. He saw me coming out of your room, and I knew—I could tell he liked you by the way he watched you dance, and refused to leave your side all night.” I’d never known Wesley had paid such close attention to me at the party. “And in the kitchen, he told me that—”

Here Wesley cuts himself off, and his gaze jumps away. His pale cheeks glow lightly pink, and his expression fills with shame.

“He told me that it was all a game to you. That dating, relationships, hookups, all of it…” He sweeps a hand messily through his hair as he recites the words woodenly. “He told me that I was a game to you. That you never took anyone seriously, that your walls were impossible to break down, and that you’d throw me to the curb the second you were done with me.

“I know I shouldn’t have cared what he said—I didn’t know him—but…I was so young and dumb, Reagan. I had so much pride, and at the time, something about it just…got to me.”

Wesley’s words and the crescendo of the music fade to a low buzz in the back of my head. Fury is a familiar emotion for me, one I can grip on to with both hands and hone to make myself stronger. Fury is what I should feel in the wake of Wesley’s confession—but I just feel…

Empty. Hollow.

I’m disappointed that Wesley was so easily convinced—but more than that, I’m overcome by bitter hate, which spikes through me, directed straight at Owen. Owen, who was one of my closest friends through college, who never missed a D&D game and played every demo I’d ever made. Falling for him had felt easy, like a simple shift in perspective to realize he’d been by my side all along.

But now—how much of our life together had been built on his jealousy and manipulation?

Wesley’s speaking again, and my focus returns to him just in time to hear: “At the time, I couldn’t handle the thought of that being even the slightest bit true—not when I’d spent all four of those years falling for you.”

My mind is wiped suddenly blank. For the second time in the span of sixty seconds, my world tips on its axis. I’m holding hard to Wesley’s hands now, if just because they’re the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment. All the air in my lungs escapes in a rush.

“What?”

But he doesn’t say anything at all, doesn’t repeat himself. He just watches me.

“That’s not true,” I say. “You hated me in college.”

“I didn’t. You hated me, maybe, but—I’ve never hated you, Reagan.” Damn him and the way his eyes have gone soft again. “Do you remember when I asked you to come with me to the holiday party sophomore year?”

My jaw tightens. “Your friends dared you to do that. Nali told me.”

“You intimidated everyone in our class; of course they dared me. But I wanted to go with you all the same.”

“What about the time you stole the topic you knew I wanted to do my project on, because you got to pick before me?”

He grins ruefully then. “Sure, maybe that one was selfish. But only because I wanted to see what you would do when you had to work outside of your box. Remind me how that went for you?”