And then Wes begins his presentation on disease pathology, explaining how a disease develops from its earliest onset to the final stages. He then describes the meta-analysis he conducted across fifty papers. By combining the results into a database, he was able to find common trends that led to the discovery of an early biomarker—one that could potentially help detect cancer in children.
My chest swells with pride as I watch him present, knowing that I’m likely the only one to note the subtle improvements he’s picked up from Public Speaking. Hisumsanduhsare nonexistent, and he doesn’t fidget anymore. His words are assured and well-practiced, and he makes eye contact with everyone in the crowd. Well, except for me. It’s only at the end of the presentation, when I shift to my right out of the shadow of the person in front of me, that his eyes lock with mine. I don’t miss the surprise that flashes across his face as he stumbles over a word, his first and only minor mistake. He recovers quickly, his eyes holding mine for another loaded second before flicking away, and he finishes out the presentation.
When he’s done, the judges deliberate, the crowd disperses, and family and friends move forward to congratulate him. Not me. I back away, not wanting to ruin his moment or drag the spotlight away from his project and onto our baggage. I came here to support him, not distract him, so I wander away whileeveryone else shares his contagious excitement and basks in the glow of his accomplishment.
I view a few more of the presentations, but I don’t pay much attention. I’m happy for Wes, I am, but it’s hard to watch from the wings as the show goes on without me. I try to remind myself I’m not solely responsible for imploding the best thing that ever happened to me, but it’s hard to accept. Deborah would say that I did my best given the circumstances, but it still hurts to know I failed him. Failedus.
Tired of walking in circles, I sit in the bleachers for a while and respond to a text from Noah. When a shadow falls over me, I glance up, expecting to see Kaden or Ben. Instead, Wes stands in front of me, looking absolutely incredible in his navy suit. My heart stutters to a stop…and then picks up double-time.
“Hey, Poison Ivy,” he says, eyes roaming over my face, taking me in. I’m doing the same to him, drinking in every detail like I’m dying of thirst. He’s gotten a haircut since the last time I saw him, I guess in preparation for his presentation, and for a moment, I’m filled with sorrow. A month ago, I was aware of every small change in him. Every minor, day-to-day difference. I knew when he shaved, when he showered, when he had a bad night’s sleep. I’ve missed hours, days, weeks of his life, time I know I’ll never get back, and my heart sinks at the realization.
“Hi,” I say, too soft and too sad. He picks up on it instantly, his brow furrowing, and steps closer.
“I didn’t think I’d see you,” he murmurs.
Somehow, I manage a small smile. “Your project was so impressive, Wes. I’m so happy for you.”
His eyes brim with warmth as they regard me. “Thanks, Ives. It means a lot that you’re here.”
I shrug, shifting in my seat. Feeling the weight of his attention after weeks without it is overwhelming, and I find myself averting my eyes down to the ground before workingmy way back up to his face. Leather shoes. Slacks. Dress shirt and jacket. He looks exceptionally handsome today, and my face grows hot from simply being in his proximity. “I just walked over. It’s not a big deal.”
He levels me with that look that tells me he sees right through me. “Ivy. We both know it’s a big deal.”
The words hang in the air between us, weighted. A month ago, I was barely able to leave my room, let alone my bed.
My smile drops. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe it is.”
He runs a hand through his new, shorter hair, mussing it up. “I feel responsible for you dropping the class, you know. I promised I’d help you through it, and I broke that promise. I let you down. I should have done more to help you prepare. I should have been there for you.”
I shake my head, my heart squeezing. “Wes. Don’t.”
“I can’t help it.”
“If it weren’t for you, I would have dropped the first week.”
He smiles sadly. “I doubt that.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I’ll retake the class next year when I’m more…” I trail off, unsure of how to describe myself. “When I’m feeling better.”
He nods, his eyes roaming over me again. “You look good, Ives.”
My face warms at the compliment, even though I’m sure what he actually means is that I look better than the last time he saw me. “Thanks. Turns out eating and sleeping do wonders for your health.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. If anything, he looks pained. “Ivy?—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off, even though I have no idea what he was about to say. I hastily change the subject. “I met your sister earlier. I was half-expecting her to give me the cold shoulder, but she was really nice.”
His brow creases. “Why did you expect her to give you the cold shoulder?”
“You know,” I say slowly. Isn’t it obvious? “Because of how I treated you.”
His frown deepens. “Ivy. You didn’t treat me poorly.”
“I did, though,” I protest. “I strung you along. I sent you all sorts of mixed messages. I picked a fight that day we broke up. I wasn’thonestwith y?—”
“Hey, Doc!” My words are cut off when a group of guys call his name, drawing his attention. I recognize some of them as his former teammates and know they’re waiting to congratulate him.
“Give me one sec, guys!” he calls over his shoulder before looking back at me. “Look, we’re throwing a party at the house tonight to celebrate. It’s invite-only, same as last time, so it shouldn’t get too crazy. I know it’s not your thing, but I would love for you to come. We can talk more, at least.”
