“What is he doing here?” I say more to myself than Wes.
“Did you want to go talk to him, or...?”
“No,” I say. “That wasn’t what I... I’m not interested in him.”
“Good,” Wes responds. “I was worried I’d have to be more obvious.”
I laugh, and the sound of it—the lightness of it—is startling. Surreal and free of consequence. “I’m not sure you’re being that subtle,” I say, making him smile. The truth is, Ilikehow he’s flirting with me. I like how it makes me feel, how it overshadows the absolute wreckage of my reality.
Wes leans back in the seat, carefree. He doesn’t have the weight of his memories, his past. He’s not a tortured soul. At least, not anymore. I barely remember this version of him. In fact, I’m not sure Ieverknew this version of him.
I throw an incautious glance in Michael Realm’s direction, and he hurriedly gets into his black car. He could be here to remind me of Dr. McKee’s warning to stay away from Wes—to keep his past from him. I promised I would. I begged the doctor to save Wes’s life, and he did.
This is the cost.
I look at Wes and know that I can’t ask him the questions I want. I can’t tell him who he is to me, who we are to each other. Even though he’s right here in front of me, he’s never felt so far away.
“Do you want to grab lunch with me?” Wes asks, climbing out of the Jeep. “There’s a pizza place—”
“No,” I say too quickly. Rejecting him doesn’t come naturally to me, and we both shift uncomfortably. I avoid his eyes when he turns to me.
“Do you... I mean, your Jeep won’t start,” he says, a slight insecurity in his voice. “And it’s lunchtime. What are you going to eat?”
I look over at him, standing close enough to touch. Knowing how easy it would be to fall into a relationship with him again.
“And not to sound pathetic,” he adds, “but I don’t have any friends. So if you’re feeling charitable—”
“Do you like pancakes?” I ask.
“I happen to fucking love pancakes,” he responds immediately. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s a place that serves breakfast all day. None of that IHOP shit either. You know Lulu’s?” Wes and I had only been there once before.
“I don’t know it,” he says. “But it sounds perfect. I hope you’re inviting me and not just taunting me with your talk of all-day pancakes.”
I laugh. “We can probably get there and back before next hour,” I say.
“Or...,” he offers, shrugging one shoulder. “We don’t come back.”
“Huh,” I say like he’s got a novel idea. “I’ll think about it. But do you mind...?” I motion to my nonstarting Jeep. “I doubt it’ll start a second time.”
“It would be my absolute pleasure to drive you to brunch,” he replies. Wes smiles, and it’s the purity in his expression that reminds me of how Wes makes me feel like the most important person in the world. Like he can see me. Like he can make it all real again.
Sharing a stack of pancakes together can’t hurt. In fact, being near him is the only thing that doesn’t hurt right now. We’re in our own private universe.
Wes closes the door of my Jeep, and we start toward his parking space.
“Hope you don’t mind the open air,” he says, pointing to his motorcycle. “I have an extra helmet.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell him, not wanting to give away that I know what he rides, and I know he always has an extra helmet—a habit he started when we got together.
We get to his bike, and Wes pulls my helmet from the pack and holds it out to me. As I take it, he runs his eyes over me. He seems to debate what he’s going to say next. “It was Tatum, right?” he asks.
I nod, and neither of us acknowledges that it was Dr. Wyatt who mentioned my name in the first place. Wes climbs onto the bike, moving up on the seat so I can get on behind him.
“And do we know each other, Tatum?” he asks, snapping the chin strap on his helmet. He doesn’t look back at me, but something in his voice tells me he’s been waiting to ask that question from the first moment he saw me in class. I must be familiar to him.
My entire body warms with the depth of the answer, the love between us, but I can’t explain it to him; I won’t put him in danger. But I can’t outright deny it either.
