“What about Kaden and Ben?”
“They get the highly coveted titles of ‘housemates’ and‘teammates.’ They’re spoiled, if you ask me.”
I smirk. “Uh huh.”
“So?”
“We haven’t known each other long enough to be best friends.”
“I’ve knownyoulong enough, so the issue must lie with the time you’ve knownme. Just tell me who I’m up against, so I can gauge my competition.”
That wipes the smile clean off my face. “I don’t really…”
“You don’t have a best friend? What about Quinn? Anyone from home?”
“The girl who didthis,” I gesture to my eye, “used to be a friend. A close one.”
His mouth flattens at the mention of Alexis. “What happened between you two?”
“We had a fight in high school. Things got…ugly.”
He looks like he wants to press for more information but decides against it, and we drive the rest of the way in comfortable silence.
We spend the next couple hours doing homework for other classes, Wes’s books sprawled across his bed, mine across his desk. It’s surprisingly easy to work in Wes’s bedroom, which I wouldn’t have thought possible a week ago. The bed’s not as threatening as it was the first time I entered, and it’s nice to not be alone for once.
The funny thing about Wes is that he can only sit still for so long. He’s constantly adjusting his position on the bed—on his stomach, then his back, then his side, then sitting upright—or getting up to search for a book or a snack. He can’t go more than twenty minutes without checking in on my eye, or asking ifthe temperature in the house is okay, or wondering if I’m hungry or not. His heart’s just that big, and his attentiveness might be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing.
When I feel his eyes on my face again, signaling the twenty-minute mark since his last check-in, I raise my head.
“Time to ice,” he says, and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “I’ll get you a pack. Hang tight.”
I nod, watching him leave the room, and shift my attention to the window. The sky is a deep, ominous gray, forecasting the storm approaching later this evening. If I were smart, I’d make Wes drive me home soon. But when he returns, carrying not only an ice pack but a plate stacked high with chocolate chip cookies, courtesy of Ben, I can’t make my mouth form the words.
“My own personal medicandwaiter?” I tease as he offers me the ice pack first and then the plate. I take the cookie resting on the top of the pile. “I don’t think I’ll ever leave.”
“Don’t,” he says easily. “Stay here with me forever. It’s nice having my bestie around.”
“You’d get tired of me.”
“Never gonna happen.”
I take a bite of the cookie and groan. Ben’s baked goods are even more delicious when they’re fresh out of the oven, and I devour the whole thing in seconds. When I glance back over at Wes, he’s inhaled half the stack already, and I swallow down a laugh. The Human Garbage Disposal can seriously tuck it away.
He sets the plate on his nightstand, swings his legs onto the bed, and leans back against the headboard. Then, grabbing his leather-bound notebook and a pencil off the pillow beside him, he starts writing.
“Why do you write your notes in that notebook instead of your laptop?” I ask as I press the bag of frozen vegetables over my eye. “I’ve always wondered.”
He glances up. “It helps me process better, and I get less distracted. Something about the physical act of writing things down. I used to do the same thing with plays. I’d draw them out to help with memorization.”
“Are you sad you won’t play football anymore?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty bummed about it, but I knew it had to come to an end eventually. That last touchdown and win was the perfect way to end my career.”
I nod like that makes sense, though now that I know Wes, I’m a little disappointed I’ll never get to see him play. “Did you ever think about playing beyond college?”
“Nah, I’m not good enough to get drafted. At least, not by the NFL. I just happened to be the right fit for Stratus’s team. Plus, I’m ready to get my life started. I’m training this summer to be an EMT, which I’ll do for two years before med school. I just couldn’t fit in all the necessary applicationsandvolunteer workandplay football at the same time.”
I blink at him in surprise. I had no idea about his post-grad plans besides his broader goal to end up in med school. “Wow, an EMT? That seems intense.”
