“Spoken like a true football play—what are you doing?” I have no time to register what’s happening before he wraps his arms around me in a hug, lifting me into the air. “Wes!” I cry, as he spins me in circles, my feet dangling a foot off the ground. When he sets me down, I can’t help but laugh. “What was that for?”
“Celebratory hug, of course. The Wes Special.”
I snort. “You probably shouldn’t nickname things ‘The Wes Special.’ It makes you seem a tad egotistical.”
He just grins at me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and guiding me in the direction of the door. As we step outside into the chilly winter air, I lean into Wes’s side, grateful for his warmth. We’ve barely made it to the end of the walkway when we spot Ben’s familiar figure strolling toward us across the quad. He lifts his hand in a wave that Wes returns.
“Hey, guys,” he says once we’re within earshot. “How’d the speeches go?”
“He was flawless,” I tell Wes’s housemate.
Ben doesn’t look surprised. “Of course he was. Doc’s good at everything. Sports, academics, public speaking, apparently.”
“And you wonder why I have an inflated ego,” Wes murmurs to me.
“How did you do, Ivy?”
I shrug. “I stumbled through it, at least.”
Wes shakes his head, his grip tightening around me. “She’s being modest. She didn’t miss a damn beat.”
My face warms at his praise, and I duck my head, breaking eye contact with Ben.
“That’s great, Ivy. Congrats.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Ben gestures over his shoulder down the sidewalk. “I saw you guys and thought I’d ask if you wanted to come sledding. People are meeting on the hill by the engineering building.”
“Up to Ivy,” says Wes.
My head jerks toward him, only to find him looking at me with those dark, glittery eyes, an almost childlike excitement dancing behind those long lashes. “Me? Why?”
“Because. We’re celebrating how kick-ass you were, and we can’t do that if I’m in one place and you’re in another totally different place, now can we?”
I blink at him. “I guess not.”
“So? What’s the verdict?” asks Ben. “It’ll be fun.”
I hesitate. Large gatherings and snow sports don’t sound like my idea of “fun,” but Wes’s hopeful face glows at the prospect, and I can’t be the thing that dims his light. I just can’t. “Sure. We can go, I guess. I did wear my boots.” When he rewards me with a dazzling smile, I immediately feel better about my decision. I glance at Ben. “Do you have a sled?”
“I have a trash can lid.”
“Awesome!” says Wes, like that’s preferable, and the two high-five.
I stare at them. “I think I’m already regretting this.”
I’m not as familiar with this side of campus, but the hill is impossible to miss. Crowds of students flock to it like snowbirds, toting all forms of “sleds.” Laundry baskets, cafeteria trays, inner tubes, yoga mats. I see everything but an actual sled in attendance, and when I notice someone carrying a rusted sheet pan, I start to appreciate the trash can lid.
Having been insulated in our own little bubble for the past few days, I almost forgot how popular Wes is. How he attracts attention from every angle, people drawn first to his stature, then captivated by his personality, looks, and uncanny ability to make everyone feel comfortable and seen.
When a group of guys surround him, spewing their usual buckets of praise and admiration, I want nothing more than to shrink into the background. But Wes’s hand settles on my lower back in a reassuring gesture, and I have no choice but to share the spotlight.
I’m not used to this many curious eyes on me, sizing me up. Some of them linger in a way that makes me uncomfortable, while others brush me off as though I’m nothing. I find myself leaning into the safety of Wes’s side as he chats with some people I vaguely recognize from his party, but when Rich pushes through to the front, Wes’s hand flexes against my back. His smile fades, and he looks like he’d rather be talking to anyone else.
“Hey man, how’ve you been?” Rich asks, sticking out his hand. Wes ignores it, and eventually, Rich lets it fall to his side.
“I thought you got suspended.”
