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“Yeah, I did.”
“Are they recruiting you?”
“I’d have to try to walk on there. Coach Bloom said she thought I’d have a shot, so I applied.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize you were—I mean, you didn’t mention Lincoln. Before.”
I shrug. “Things change.” It’s as close as I’m willing to get to admitting he’s the sole reason I added Lincoln to my list.
“Yeah, they do,” is all Wes says.
We’re both quiet as we eat the rest of the pizza and survey the stretch of grass before us.
It’s a perfect moment—until it begins to pour.
We both scramble. Wes balls up the rapidly dampening blanket while I grab the remains of our dinner. The two of us race side-by-side back to Wes’s car, eagerly clambering inside before we’re entirely drenched. Our wet clothes squeak against the leather seats.
“That was not in the weather report,” Wes grumbles as we stare at the heavy drops pummeling the earth.
I laugh at his disgruntled expression. “It was still my favorite birthday dinner,” I inform him.
“Can’t ask for more than that,” Wes replies as he turns on the car.
Hot air flows out of the vents, warming the saturated fabric of our clothes. I pull off my winter coat, glad it deterred most of the water from reaching my outfit.
I lean back against the leather seat and watch the dark silhouettes of the trees flash by as Wes heads back in the direction of the cabin.
The song playing on the radio changes, and I smile when I recognize the introductory strains to “Shut Up and Dance.”
“I love this song,” I tell Wes.
He smirks over at me. “Keeping up with all the current hits, huh?”
I roll my eyes.
Wes suddenly pulls the car over onto the shoulder of the road.
“Is something wrong with the car?” I ask him, confused and slightly panicked. How the hell am I going to explain what I am doing in Weston Cole’s car?
“The car’s fine. Get out,” Wes instructs.
“What?” I laugh. “It’s raining.”
“Listen to the song, Stevens.” Wes grins at me and exits the driver’s seat.
“That’s the girl’s part,” I call out after him. I hear him laugh as I open my own door and climb out into the downpour.
I round the back of Wes’s car to see he’s opened the trunk, providing a slight respite from the precipitation and allowing the strains ofWalk the Moon’s song to drift through the SUV and outside to us.
“Dance with me, Maeve.”
I study him for a moment as the rain saturates my hair and begins dribbling down my face. I’m fucked. Completely and totally screwed.
Because Weston Cole is looking at me like he’s in love with me, and I’m already in love with him.
Finally, I comply with his request and walk underneath the makeshift canopy so I’m standing in front of him. He wraps his arms around me and spins me so my back is to his front. I lean back against him, letting him support most of my weight. We sway together, much more slowly that the beat suggests.
I watch the sheets of rain fall as I lean against the sturdy support of Wes’s body. I’ve always loved the rain. There’s something soothing about it. Refreshing. The way it rinses and cleanses everything. The way it leaves everything looking better than before it fell. The way it provides a fresh start.
