“Hi, Doc,” she drawls, and his head snaps toward her in surprise. She’s beautiful—gorgeous, even—her hair and makeup perfectly done up. I shrink a little, finding it impossible not to compare myself to her.
He said you looked pretty.
Maybe so, but I’m sure he was just being nice. He’s nice to everyone, after all.
“Oh, hey,” he says, squinting a little as though trying to place her.
She smiles, revealing a set of glowing, white teeth. “Making house visits yet? I could use a full-body checkup.”
I swear, I nearly choke.
Wes laughs a bit awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting back on his heels. “Nah, not yet. Kind of need to go to med school first.”
She reaches out and brushes his bicep, fingertips lingering too long on the fabric of his sweatshirt. My brows shoot up at her brashness, but if I wasn’t looking carefully, I’d miss the way Wes’s eyes harden.
“Well, if you ever need a practice dummy,” she says, “I’ll happily volunteer. Especially for mouth-to-mouth.” And then, I kid you not, she hands him a piece of paper with her phone numberon it.“My name’s Vanessa. Talk soon, I hope.”
A part of me wants him to ignore the note, but he takes it from her.Vanessaturns andwalks back to her group, not sparing so much as a sneer in my direction. For some reason, I want to evaporate.
“Um, here’s the key,” desk guy cuts in, sliding it across the counter. Wes clears his throat before thanking him, and together we walk to the stairs. The back of my neck prickles as I start to climb, and it takes the utmost willpower not to peek over my shoulder at the table of giggling girls.
I try not to speculate if they’re laughing atme.
It’s not soon enough when we arrive at room six. Wes unlocks the door and flicks on the light, and I take in the space. The room is…small. Very small. There’s a round table at the center, four chairs surrounding it, and two windows overlooking the interior of the library.
I have a moment of hesitation—a split second anxiety spike—before stepping fully inside. The blinds are open, the door’s unlocked, and I trust Wes. At least, as much as I can at this point. Plus, I don’t want to recite my speech in front of an audience larger than one, so this little room is our only option.
Oblivious to the deluge of thoughts bombarding my brain, Wes takes a seat on the far side of the table. I sit closest to the door, setting my bag on the chair beside me.
“Well, this is cozy,” he notes.
“Are you going to call her?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
His brow knits. “What?”
I dip my head, color blooming across my cheeks. “Nothing,” I mumble. “Forget it.”
He laughs a little as he picks up on the direction of my thoughts. “Oh, you mean that girl from downstairs? Hell, no. I tossed her number in the bin outside.”
I peek back up at him, my brows raised. Once again, he’s taken my pre-conceived notions and turned them on their head. With his looks and his status and his charm, I’d expected him to be one of those guys with a revolving door of women, but he left those girls high and dry at the frat, and he did it again just now. He didn’t even flirt back, though he wasn’t exactly rude.
Remembering the look on his face when Vanessa touched his arm, I ask, “Does that annoy you? It must happen a lot with you being, well, you.”
He snorts. “I don’t mind being hit on. It’s inconvenient sometimes, sure, but at least it’s flattering. It’s the touching I hate. No one should touch you without permission.”
No one should touch you without permission.
My mind takes a second to register his words, and then my face flushes with some foreign emotion. I want to rewind time to hear him say that again because he said it.Hesaid it, notme. The phrase I want to carve into my skin and stamp over my forehead and tattoo into my soul. I want to leap across the table and hug him tight, tight, tight, but I can’t because that would be a crazy inappropriate response to a decree like that.
Instead, I sit stock-still. I clasp my hands beneath the table to stop them from shaking.
Would he mean it if the role was reversed?
I think he would. I know he would.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
