Wes:Well, I’m working on my senior project, and I’ve consumed enough coffee to power a jet engine. I couldn’t sleep right now if I tried. But also…I just like talking to you.
His words are like a jolt of caffeine to my system. NowI’mthe one who won’t be able to sleep.
I debate how to respond, but my fingers freeze on the keypad, and my mind goes blank. A couple minutes pass, and he beats me to it.
Wes:I hope I didn’t scare you off, but if I did, sweet dreams, Poison Ivy. See you Tuesday.
Finally, I type out a reply.
Me:You didn’t. Sweet dreams.
A shadow fallsover my desk, and I look up from my phone to see Wes’s broad chest blocking out the fluorescent lights.
“I have three very important questions for you,” he says, and I wrack my brain for what they might be.
I haven’t spoken aloud since my morning class yesterday, so I clear my throat to make sure it’s working right. “Okay,” I say, cringing when it comes out a little hoarse. Wes doesn’t appear to notice.
“Do you like ham?” he asks.
My shoulders relax a little. “Yes.”
“Cheese?”
“Who doesn’t?”
He pulls a Ziplock bag out from behind his back, some sort of pastry inside. He waggles his eyebrows. “I come bearing breakfast. A delicious ham and cheese pastry.ButI need an answer to the most important question of them all.”
I blink at him. “I think you lost me.”
“Will you be my practice buddy? I need official confirmation so I can make good on my promise to you. Otherwise, they’re just empty words.”
I shift in my seat. Drop my eyes down to the desk, narrowing in on a marker stain as I consider my response.
My biggest fear is that I’m a lost cause. That I’ll fuck up so bad he’ll regret his decision to help me. And if he gave up on me…if he gave up on me, well, that would hurt. That would hurtbadly.
He crouches down a little, so he’s closer to my eye level. “I’ll give you a hint. There’s only one correct answer.”
My gaze snaps up to his, my face growing warm from the eye contact. “I guess I can.”
He positively beams. Light radiates out of that smile, and I have to squint to protect my eyesight. “Right answer. That means you get the puff, sure, but you also win something much more priceless.”
“The pleasure of your company?” I ask wryly.
He sets the bag on my desk and slips into the seat beside me. “Well, that, too, but I was referring to your now inevitable A in this class.”
I sigh a little, averting my eyes and trying to tell myself this isn’t a horrible idea. It’s not like I have any better ones, though. “If you say so.”
“I do say so. We’ll meet up next week once our outlines are done. Sound good?”
“I’d give you my number,” I say, “but you already stole it.”
He blinks and then smirks at me. “I think I love it when you get sassy.” My cheeks warm, and I look down at the pastry puff. “I think you might love it, too. Just saying.”
I ignore his comments, mostly because I have no clue what to make of them.
While Markham begins his lecture, I nibble at the pastry, only slightly less self-conscious than last week. Students eat in this room all the time—that’s not the issue. It’s more that I’ve gotten out of practice of eating in front of people. I consume most meals alone, and I’m hyper-aware of the way I bite, chew, swallow. Of the potential for food in my teeth or bad-smelling breath,especiallyaround someone like Wes.
But all that aside, I can’t understand why he brought it for me in the first place. Why he’s being so nice. Why he’s offering to help. I’ve ruled out the obvious explanation—that he’s using me for a hook up. Which means the only logical explanation I can come up with is that he’s worried about the speech as well. Maybe having an ally, a person that he can rely on and talk to, makes him more comfortable.
