I shiver and sit back on the couch, questioning how the hell I’m going to get back to sleep when my toes are numb. My fingers too. I debate this for a while before I hear the stairs creak under the weight of someone’s footsteps. I turn to see the glow of a phone flashlight illuminating the hallway and the man behind it.
“Hey,” Wes says softly, his voice rougher than usual. His hair’s wild, mussed across his forehead and sticking up in random places. His eyes are hooded. Sleepy. “I think the power’s out. I came to check on you.”
“I’m okay,” I’m quick to assure.
“Shit. It’s freezing down here, and that’s saying something coming from me.” I nod, clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering, deciding not to point out that he’s only wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, his feet and arms bare. To be fair, that’s nearly overdressed for Wes. He sets the phone flashlight on the edge of the couch and extends his hand. “Come here.”
I don’t hesitate before standing up and stepping into him, though I probably should. He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into the warmth of his body. Acting on instinct, I press my frigid nose against his warm sternum and my cheek against his hard chest. His hands move up and down my back, trying to warm me up as his chin rests on the top of my head.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” he says, his chest rumbling with the words.
Slowly, I pull back just enough to peer up at his face.
“What?” I ask, sure he can pick up on the wariness in my voice.
“This is a completely innocent suggestion, so don’t freak out.”
“I’m not going to freak out,” I mumble, despite the fact that I’m already freaking out inside, my heart rate kicking up gears. I hold my breath as I wait for him to continue, scared he’ll say something to ruin this moment.
Please don’t wreck this.
“Would you want to come upstairs?” he asks carefully, his eyes searching mine. “It’s warmer up there, and we can share the bed.”
“Wes,” I warn, pulling out of his arms. A violent shiver wracks my frame as I immediately catch another chill.
He holds his hands up in front of him. “No funny business, I swear! It’s a totally innocent offer.”
I don’t even have to think about it, alarm bells ringing off in the distance. I know they’re meant to protect me. To keep me safe.
“I can’t,” I say quickly, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Ivy,” he says, and I can hear the frown in his voice. “I just feel bad that you’re freezing your ass off down here.”
“I’ll be fine.” I sit back down on the couch, still not looking at him. “You should go back to bed.”
He doesn’t budge. “Are we okay?”
“We’re good. Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Why won’t you look at me?”
I force my gaze up, grinding my teeth to keep them from chattering. My eyes roam over his, lost in the openness and sincerity of their dark depths. What if he’s telling the truth?
Don’t be an idiot.
“We’re great,” I say. “You should get some sleep.”
He seems reluctant to leave but finally murmurs a quiet goodnight, retreating up the stairs. Tears well in my eyes the moment he’s gone, but they’re not tears of sorrow. They’re tears of frustration, directed at myself for not being a normal girl, one who wouldjumpat the chance to share a bed with the hottest, most beloved guy on campus. They’re tears of anger at myself for being a coward, for being unable to trust, for being so fucked up in the head that I have no clue what to believe anymore.
Huddled in the dark on Wes’s couch, I comb through my memory for a single thing he’s done that would paint him as dishonest. I dissect every interaction we’ve had and every good intention I’ve read on his face. I search for evidence that would condemn him as untrustworthy, but I come up empty-handed. There’s nothing, except for the fact that he’s a guy.
Isn’t that enough?
Maybe.
But what if I shouldn’t accept that?
What if not every guy is…him.
