Page 75 of Level Up for Love

Chapter

Twenty-One

“Do you want to get high and play Baldur’s Gate with me tonight?” Mona asks.

I laugh, careful not to let my phone fall from where it’s tucked between my ear and my shoulder. It sounds tempting, honestly. “I thought you and Shay were going for dinner.”

“Ugh, no. She said she has more work to do on her applications.”

“On a Saturday night? What sort of applications?”

There’s a beat of silence before Mona releases a dramatic sigh that fuzzes through the speaker. “Some scholarship things, I think. Come on. I’ll order pizza.”

I bite back a smile and glance to where a freshly delivered pie waits on my countertop. The aroma of pepperoni fills my kitchen. “Can’t. I’ve got plans.”

“What plans?” Her tone is hilariously accusatory.

“Wesley and I are working on our games for NEWT.”

“You do that every night. Take a break.”

“No, we’re working on them together.”

“…Oh.”

I hear the telltale creak of the stairs, and I wonder for a moment if it’s Mona coming to snoop. But the steps are too measured, and they’re soon followed by a soft knock. Mona never knocks.

“He’s here. Gotta go.”

“I swear, Rea, you’d better tell me every detail tomorrow, or—”

I disconnect the call, toss my phone onto the couch, and open the door.

Wesley stands in an olive-green crewneck and jeans. His hair looks damp and just the slightest bit overworked with product, like he tried to smooth down the grown-out strands and lost the battle halfway.

Fine with me—I prefer it like this.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey. Hungry?”

“Oh, shit.” I notice his hands are full; a four-pack of beer from the brewery down the street dangles from his left while he balances a pizza box on his right. I laugh and point to the one I ordered.

“Great minds, huh?”

“That’s what this whole night’s about, isn’t it?”

Isn’t it?

If that’s all it’s about, why would he bother styling his hair, or wearing jeans that hug his thighs in a particularly distracting way? Why would I bother wearing a fucking skirt in my own home? (Though it is the comfiest one I have: ribbed, knit, and clingy.)

I put it out of my mind for now.

“Right,” I say. “Shall we get to it, then?”

“Where should I set up?”

I direct Wesley to prep his laptop on my living room coffee table; I’ve already got Afterwards pulled up on my office desktop. We set plates of pizza next to each of them, my pepper pepperoni and Wesley’s square grandma pie. Wesley sinks into my plush desk chair and takes it for a spin, a boyish grin curling at his lips as he admires the space. “You’ve got a proper battle station in here, don’t you?”