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After a long stretch of nothing but the cold November wind, I snapped. “What?”
“Just because you don’t want him doesn’t mean other people won’t.”
I made a strangled sound and burst up off the bike, pushing into Win’s personal space.
He held his ground, stare steady, to say, “Just because you won’t act on your feelings doesn’t mean other people won’t.”
I appreciated the amendment, but really, it wasn’t any better.
“That guy was a total wanker,” I spat.
Win’s shoulders shook with laughter, eyes lit with mirth. “You said wanker.”
I curled my lips in, composing myself. This was not funny. “I meant it,” I intoned.
Sighing heavily, Win relaxed his stance. “Look, I get it. But what do you expect? He’s a nineteen-year-old college student. And he happens to be an Elite swimmer. He’s not going to sit at home forever.”
I cursed, then folded my arms over my chest. “You agreed to go.”
Win lifted a brow. “Would you rather I let him go alone?”
“Fuck.”
“You could stop him,” Win said, the words making my heart rate increase. Swallowing, I met his gaze. “Tell him how you feel, Max. He won’t look at anyone else ever again.”
God, the ache. The all-consuming desolate hurt tightened my chest like pungent panic trying to squeeze out all rational thought inside me. It hurt. It hurt more than any beating I’d ever taken, matched only by the death of our parents.
It was the kind of pain that would likely never, ever go away. I would only learn to live with it.
No, you won’t learn. It’s already been years, and it’s worse now than ever before.
The words were an abrasive scrape against my throat, slicing into me like jagged glass as I forced them out. “You know I can’t do that.”
Win’s stare studied mine for long moments before he shook his head resolutely. “Then you have no right to stand in his way, Max. If you won’t give him the happiness he needs, let him find it somewhere else.”
All the air whooshed out of me, entire chest deflating with those harsh words. Win turned and walked back into the diner, burnished, warped leaves blowing around his feet as winter air whistled through the hollowed-out cavern his words had carved in my chest.
19
Wes
The LGBTQIA+blackout party was located on the edge of campus at the old gymnasium that had been upgraded years ago for a state-of-the-art building more centrally located and much more “fitting” of Westbrook. In other words, they got a massive donation and threw money at a new building to make the college look even more luxe than it already did.
The old gym never got remodeled into something else, so it just sat on the edge of campus like the redheaded stepchild of the university. And that was how it became the unofficial yet official place for raves.
I was sure the dean and other staff knew this place was used as party central, but no one ever stopped it. Hell, according to Ryan and Jamie, the reason the building still stood was so clubs could have parties there and charge a cover. There was probably a manual of rules somewhere stating what kind of parties were permitted, but no one followed rules, and the alumni didn’t enforce them.
I’d never been out this way, so I stared out the window at the passing trees and rolling lawn as we drove farther from the congested buildings toward this one, which sat pretty much alone.
“Did you know about this place?” I asked Win.
He was driving his Rover, and we were following behind Kruger and Prism who were in Kruger’s Audi. Ryan, Jamie, and the girls were in front of them in Ryan’s Jeep.
“I’ve been out here a few times.”
“Of course you have,” I muttered.
Win laughed, his smile illuminated by the brightly lit dash as he drove. “Probably won’t be your last time out here either.”
