Wes:Haha alwayssss. Okay, which is more intriguing? Reasons team bonding is important in sports, why exercise is important for mental health, or…wait for it… the history of chicken piccata.
My mouth twitches up at the corner.
Me:Definitely the last one, no contest.
Wes:I value your opinion, I do, but what if Markham’s a vegan and he docks my grade?
Me:But what if he’s on the carnivore diet and he inflates it?
Wes:I didn’t think of that…
“Are you texting a guy?” I jump and look over at Quinn, worried she’s upset I wasn’t paying attention. But when she pauses the movie and leans toward me with bright eyes, I realize she’s simply curious. Maybe even excited.
I shrug a shoulder. “Oh, just this guy from my class.”
She grins and twists her body in my direction. “Yes, I need details. Is he a freshman?”
I shake my head.
“Sophomore, then? Junior? Remy might know him.”
I shake my head again.
Her eyes widen. “Senior?” I hesitate for a moment before I nod, and she lets out a long whistle, looking me over. “Damn, Ivy.”
“Oh, it’s not like that," I’m quick to assure. "He’s asking me about homework.”
Her eyes narrow. “Donotlet him copy off you.”
“He’s not. He wouldn’t. He’s…nice.” My eyes drop to my phone, and I’m suddenly a little embarrassed. “At least, heseemsgenuine.”
“What’s his name?”
I’m sure she’ll know exactly who he is given the whole “Doc” football craze, but when I open my mouth to tell her, something stops me. Fear of looking stupid, maybe. Of trusting a guy like Wes Tucker when I should know better. Quinn’s the kind of person who would call me out on it, too, and for the moment, I like existing in this insulated little bubble, one where my Public Speaking companion is an honorable guy and I’m not a naïve idiot.
You better hope that’s the reality.
I press my lips together in an apologetic smile. Thankfully, Quinn seems to understand, nodding and leaning back on thecouch. “Alright then, keep your secrets,” she says, but with a joking undertone that doesn’t make me feel too bad. “I just hope he graduates to asking you out before he quite literally graduates.”
“It’s honestly not like that,” I tell her, but there’s no denying that when my phone buzzes in my hand, my stomach does a somersault.
Quinn grins, a knowing glint in her eye. “Until it is.”
As we settle back into the movie, I refrain from checking Wes’s latest message for a good fifteen minutes, but when Quinn looks down at her own phone, I can’t stop myself.
Wes:Alright, I’ve come to the conclusion that the chicken’s too risky. Team building it is. Thanks for your help, Ives.
I put my phone away, vowing not to text him for the rest of the night. I helped him solve his dilemma after all, so I doubt hereallywants to hear from me again. Right?
When the credits roll, Quinn and I wish each other a tired “goodnight” and shuffle off to our rooms. Once I’m in bed, my earlier promise to myself goes out the window, and I respond to Wes’s text before I can talk myself out of it.
Me:You’re welcome.
Shutting off the light, I don’t expect him to reply. It’s almost midnight, after all, so I’m caught off guard when my phone glows a few minutes later.
Wes:I’m surprised you’re still up. It’s way past MY bedtime, that’s for sure.
Me:Then why don’t you go to sleep?
