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“Is it okay if I stay?” I ask as my fingers pull nervously at the bottom of my shirt.
Wes looks surprised by my question but blurts out “yes,” so quickly that I almost laugh.Almost. While the decision to stay here was an easy one, it doesn’t mean I feel completely confident about it.
When his eyes dart between the bedroom and the sofa we’re currently sitting on, I sense he’s about to be the gentleman he claimsnotto be, so I beat him to the punch.
“I’m fine with sharing,” I say, sitting tall. “But we can put pillows down the middle if you’re worried,” I add, using humor to hide just how nervous I am. I’m not sure what I’m asking by staying over, but considering the thumping in my chest has returned to normal, I know I made the right choice. I trust Wes, completely. And maybe that’s wrong of me, but right now, it doesn’t feel that way.
Wes’s brows furrow as he looks toward the bedroom once more. Is he hiding something or just not interested in having someone in his space? I mean, it’s not like this is a hotel room for him. It’s currently his home. I probably wouldn’t want a semi-stranger in my bedroom either.
“Mind if I have a moment to tidy up?” he says with a wince, and I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me.
“I’d welcome it,” I joke and love when his lips thin into a smirk, his eyes crinkling as they do.
“I’ll be right back.”
Barely five minutes pass before the bedroom door opens again and Wes pokes his head out, his eyes immediately finding mine. “Okay, it’s somewhat decent,” he says, and I laugh again before following him into the room, unable to keep my gaze from roaming around, desperate to learn everything I can about him. But his room looks a lot like mine. Almost identical apart from a few minor details. There’s no personal belongings, no photos. The only new information I learn is that he seems to like blue, with shades of the color scattered around the place. Blue suitcase, blue shirts in his closet, various blue baseball caps.
Wes takes off his watch and gently places it in a box beside his bed. It’s then I remember his sponsorship deal with Tag Heuer and make a mental note to find out what he really thinks of the brand. I’m always curious.
When he looks my way with raised eyebrows and a playful expression, I realize I’m still standing in the doorway and push off the wall, hesitantly stepping inside, making my way over to the bed.
“Do you want the pillows between us?” Wes asks, and I giggle while shaking my head.
“I don’t need them.”
He simply nods in answer, before his eyes rake over my body and he frowns, his gaze flashing toward the dresser. “What about something to sleep in?”
“That, I need. I kind of have nothing with me since you kidnapped me from class.” I wink, making Wes chuckle as he pulls a tee from the top drawer, throwing it my way.
“You’re tiny, so my shorts will swim on you, but we can try and roll them up,” he says, reaching back into his drawers.
“No, that’s okay,” I say, and Wes freezes, his hand hovering in midair. “The tee is enough, but thank you.”
Somehow the idea of standing in front of him wearing only his tee and my panties has my heart beating erratically for reasons I didn’t expect. I’m not nervous or panicked. The idea actually thrills me.
Wes, on the other hand, looks positively terrified as he visibly swallows, turning with wide eyes to gaze at the bed. I bite back a smile and walk toward what I assume is the en suite. “Can I change in here?” I ask, pointing to the door.
He nods again but doesn’t meet my eye.
Stripping off my clothes is fine, but the moment I slip the tee over my head, sans bra, I freeze, suddenly acutely aware of the situation I’ve put myself in. I barely know Wes. It’s been less than a week, and for some reason, I’m standing in his bathroom half naked. Am I crazy? Yes. But that has nothing to do with this situation. Do I believe Wes when he says he would never hurt me? Also yes, but then again, I foolishly believed all my other ex-boyfriends, right?Didn’t I?Come to think of it, deep down I never did. I just accepted it because on their good days, things were amazing, I was worshipped. It was easy to forget the bad.
Thisdoesn’t feel at all likethat. Wes hasn’t given me any reason to doubt his words. Not even a single red flag. And I trust him, one hundred percent. Why? I have no idea. Call it gut instinct, but I do.
Taking a deep breath, I stretch Wes’s tee at the hem, trying to cover more skin. But when it doesn’t help, I close my eyes and gather my strength instead. I can do this. This is my choice. I’m in control.
Pushing open the door, I find Wes sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his face in his hands. When the door creaks, his head flies up, and his eyes meet mine. For a split second, his gaze drops to my bare legs before darting back to my face, and when our eyes lock a second time, his are ablaze with want.
Now it’s my turn to nervously swallow.
My heart races as I tiptoe barefoot across the room. Why I’m on my toes, I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the room being so quiet and not wanting to disrupt that. Or maybe it’s something else.
Stopping when I’m next to the bed, I watch as Wes stands, pulling back the covers so we can both get in. “Last chance for the pillows,” he jokes, but it’s clear as day that he’s still secretly hoping it’s an option.
I shake my head with a soft smile before making myself comfortable on the mattress, curling my knees up as I face his side of the bed. Wes joins me but keeps his distance, and we’re both silent for a beat.
“I’m a sleep talker. Always have been,” he admits without looking my way, and I laugh out loud, internally thanking him for breaking our silent tension.
“I’ve been known to throw a punch here and there,” I joke and am rewarded with Wes’s gaze shooting to mine as he rolls over to face me. “Fuck! I’ve felt that left hook. I’m regretting this decision right now.”
