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I stuff my notepad in my bag. Sliding out of my seat, a tall figure lingering outside the doorway registers in my brain. My heart stumbles before my entire body starts buzzing with the remnants from my recent fantasy.
What the hell is he doing here?
I slowly approach the exit and stop in front of Wes. He stares down at me impassively. "MOAB Girl."
I take a deep breath and pray that the heat currently setting my body ablaze is not visible to him. "Tight End."
His lips twitch. "You know my position."
I shrug as casually as I can. "You are well known on campus."
Liar.
He grins at me indulgently, and I wait for him to call me out again. He doesn't.
Instead, he steps to the side and allows me to leave the room. I flatten myself against the opposite side of the doorframe, and I hear a snort from behind me. He's enjoying this way too much.
I start walking without a backward glance. On Mondays, I sit in two lectures, and I have to hurry to make it to the other class on time. Most students wouldn't take these classes in the same year and therefore wouldn't have this issue, but I attend as many lectures as I can or am allowed to. Having missed most of my high school experience, I am now soaking up all the knowledge I can get.
Wes matches my hurried strides, and I peer at him from my peripheral vision. "What are you doing?" A few days ago, I quite loudlyinformedhim that I wanted nothing to do with him.
"Not sure what you mean." He keeps his eyes forward as he responds.
I stop in my tracks and swivel to face him. He follows my lead, and we're facing off in the middle of the corridor with students passing us on both sides.
"Why are you here?" I gesture between us.
"Why were you at TMH?" he counters with a smirk.
His directness flusters me. I never expected him to engage. Everyone else would run as fast as they could. But then, Wes isn't your average person. His past has shaped him, and he probably is not fazed by much.
"I was picking up drinks for a party." I cock my head, waiting for his response.
He's about to say something when he stops, then pulls his phone out of his back pocket. He glances at the screen, and I fight the urge to pry.
He holds up a finger with his free hand and swipes with the other to answer the call. "Hey, D."
D. Denielle.My jaw locks. I should leave.
"Uh-huh."
Denielle says something, but I can't make out the words. Wes's entire demeanor changes. Hisalmostplayfulness is gone, his shoulders drawn back. "Yeah, stood in my fucking living room when I got home. Way to give me a heads-up."
Who is he talking about? I have so many questions, yet I know I have no right, nor should I want to.
I need to go.
More talking on the other end, and Wes rakes his hand through his hair, getting stopped by the hair tie in the back. As he glances up to the ceiling, about to respond, I see it as my chance. I start to bolt, but I'm not fast enough. A hand latches onto my wrist. "Not so fast, MOAB Girl."
I jerk around and gape at him, my gaze shifting between him and the device pressed to his ear.
"D, I gotta go." Pause. "None of your business." Another pause. "No, you knew he was coming, and you didn't warn me."
He? Oh my God, Rhys was here. In Stonebriar. Now his anger makes sense.
"I already told you that's none of your business. Jesus, D—" I take a step back, but Wes's hand tightens on my wrist, and he is shaking his head. I could easily dislodge his hand—one of the first lessons I learned working in my old job—but I don't want to. Instead, I wait. His eyes never leave mine.
"Sure, I'll call you tonight." Denielle says something else, and his features soften. "Love you, too. Yeah, bye."
