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Fuck.
He stared up at the ceiling as the words settled inside him.
It was too soon. Way too fucking soon. But now that he’d thought it, he couldn’t stop himself from fully falling into the feeling. It was right, this was right. Being with her was right.
Being with her was perfect.
twenty-one
Wes:
I hate to bother you, but can you grab my work boots from outside my apartment and bring them to the shop? I had a sleepover and couldn’t run by my place this morning.
Wes:
Pretty please with extra cherries on top?
Ugh. He knew she wouldn’t say no to him, especially when he said please and added those extra cherries. Freaking Weston.
Stomping up the steps of her apartment building, she scanned the corridor, spotting his smelly, dirty work boots sitting right where he said they’d be. He probably left them outside so they didn’t stink up his entire apartment, but she had to deal with it every time she passed them.
She didn’t have time for this. But he’d helped her more times than she could count and rarely ever asked for anything, so she’d do this for him.
Just this once.
Plugging her nose, she pinched the boots between her fingers and held her breath as she sprinted down the steps to her car. She flung them inside and rounded the car, checking the time on her dash as she slid into the driver’s seat.
She had thirty minutes before she needed to be at work, but with the errand for Wes, she had to cut that in half. Which meant she had no time to stop for lunch. Thankfully, she had emergency chocolate in her bag.
And she needed to text Jett to let him know she was fine and heading to work. But she’d been running since the second she stepped out of her class and hadn’t had a chance to take a breath, much less send him a text.
Pulling up to the little mechanic shop where Wes worked, she stormed inside. He owed her big time for this, stinking up her car with his freaking boots. Maybe he had lunch she could steal. That would be a fair trade.
Stepping inside, a girl behind the counter smiled at her. “Hey, what can I do for you? Need an oil change?”
Abbie shook her head as she walked forward. “I’m here to see Wes.” The girl’s smile tightened.
“Wes? For what?”
“He has two radioactive boots in my car that he needs to get out.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder, laughing slightly. But when the girl just gave her a confused look, Abbie sighed. “I’m his friend. Well, his neighbor. A neighbor-friend? He asked me to bring his work boots to him. So, here I am. Being the best friend in the world?—”
“Oh my God, you touched them?!” the girl squealed, jumping from foot to foot. “You’re so brave!”
“I know!” Abbie wailed, flailing her arms around. “It was disgusting!”
“Everyone knows Wes’ boots are the worst.” Abbie nodded her agreement. Yeah, she knew that. “You brave, brave soul. I’ll go get him.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t catch the girl’s name, but Abbie liked her. If for no other reason than she felt her pain when it came to touching those freaking shoes. He needed new ones. Maybe she should get him a pair for his birthday. When was it again? Maybe Christmas was better.
The door to the office opened, and Wes strolled in, grinning. “Hey, Abbie-Girl. Thanks?—”
“Never make me touch those things again!” she cried dramatically. He lifted his hands, his brows raised.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize they’d make you freak out,” he said.
“They’d make anyone freak out!” She shuddered at the thought of touching them. “Never again, Weston. Never. Again.”
