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He nods, not looking surprised or offended. “Yeah. We should.”
Nothing feels resolved, though, as he turns and walks out of the bathroom as quickly as he appeared. I swipe a finger across my lower lip, trying to brush away the residue of his touch. The way it tingles and lingers.
When I enter the lobby, Wes is walking in from the pool.
“Hey,” he says, spotting me.
“Hey,” I reply.
“You good?”
“I feel like I should be asking you that.”
“Yeah.” Wes blows out a breath. “Tonight was a nice idea. Just…”
“Unrealistic?” I supply. “Waving a match around a powder keg?”
He smiles. “Yeah. Both would apply, I guess.”
I glance around, confirming we’re still alone. “I keep wanting to ask…are you still thinking about transferring?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Wes sighs. “It’s a fucking mess. My dad called yesterday, telling me he got tickets for him and a bunch of his college buddies. To watch me play at Lincoln. Not that I should care. But…we’re in a decent place, for once. And if I want to go pro, Lincoln is the safer bet.”
“Have you talked to Maeve?”
Wes shakes his head.
“Talk to me about what?”
Shit. I glance at Maeve, who’s just walked inside. Liam is with her, and so is the brunette girl he was talking to earlier.
This looks bad, I realize. Me and Wes talking alone.
Bad to Maeve, and bad to Liam.
“Talk to me aboutwhat, Wes?” Maeve repeats the question, her tone sharper than the first time.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll be outside.” Maeve’s friend heads back outside, leaving the four of us alone.
Before I can excuse myself as well, Wes says, “I’m considering transferring to Arlington.”
Silence greets Wes’s admission.
“And you toldher?”
Wes laughs, but it’s a humorless sound. “I tell you I want to uproot everything—my career, my future—to be closer to you, and that’s the first thing you say?Really, Maeve?”
“Yeah.” Maeve crosses her arms. “I want to know why you toldhersomething you should have discussed withme.”
“I’m gonna go, Wes,” I say. “Happy Birthday.”
He glances at me. “Yeah. Thanks.”
I pass Maeve and Liam without looking at either Stevens, inhaling deep lungfuls of humidity once I’m back outside. The air out here holds slightly less tension than the oxygen inside.
Charlie holds my drink out as I approach.
“Thanks,” I tell him, sucking down most of it in one go.
