“So if you don’t want someone to hook up with, then whatdoyou want? A girlfriend?”
He regards me with a strange look, almost like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “Have you ever had a boyfriend before?” I blow out a breath, wishing I could lie. I know he’ll probably see right through me, though, so I shake my head no, and surprise dawns across his face. “That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”
"No!” I cry, embarrassed now.
“Okay, okay. I was only asking.” He hesitates before his next question. “Have you ever done more than ki?—”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I blurt, my hands going up like a shield. It’s a knee-jerk response, one I can’t help, and for amoment he looks taken aback. But then his brows knit together, and he studies me with that same odd look on his face, as though he’s trying to solve some sort of mystery.
“Ivy,” he says softly. “I think it’s fairly obvious by now that I like you. You asked me what I want, and what I want is you. I want to be around you in whatever capacity you’re willing to give me. Whether that includes kissing, or anything else, is entirely up to you. I’m not going anywhere.”
His words come out of nowhere, hitting me straight in the chest, and my eyes practically bug out of my skull. He says helikesme. He says hewantsme. He says he’s not going to push me into something I’m not comfortable with.
For right now. But how long will he wait around? How long will it be until he gets frustrated? Until he can’t take it anymore?
I can’t lose him.
“Look, it’s been a crazy day,” Wes says, and his words remind me of how mentally exhausted I am after the mess with the forum. His hands move down my arms and take mine, squeezing them lightly between his bigger ones. “Let’s forget about all this and just watch a movie, okay? Maybe order some food? Don’t worry about this. There’s nothing to stress about, okay?”
I doubt that ignoring everything that just happened is the best idea, but I’m apparently incapable of sorting through my thoughts and feelings right now. I’d like nothing more than to compartmentalize all this for the time being, so I nod and squeeze his hands right back.
“The Phantom Menaceand Mexican food?”
“Can we get those quesadillas again?” I ask. “The ones from Casa del Sol?”
He slaps a hand over his heart, eyes rolling back in his head. “I think I’m in love.”
For a moment, I’m paralyzed by his comment, but then I burst out laughing, the tension in the room lightening. He laughs with me before scooping me up like I’m nothing and tossing me onto the bed. Then, before I can protest, he jumps on behind me and starts tickling my stomach. The bed creaks as I try to fight him off, but he’s relentless.
“Wes, stop,” I manage between giggles, trying to swat his hands away. “They’re going to think we’re doing something else in here.”
“Too bad the tickle monster doesn’t give a flying shit what those stupid girls think,” he says in a funny voice. I laugh harder, relieved he doesn’t appear at all upset at tabling our loaded conversation.
Eventually, I manage to fend off the tickle monster—or he just gets hungry for quesadillas, whichever comes first—and we order food. We eat it on my bed and prop my laptop up on my desk, playing one of the lowest-rankedStar Warsfilms. It’s not an ideal setup, but I don’t have the energy to go all the way to Wes’s house today, so we make do.
When we’re done eating, he lays back on the bed and positions the laptop on top of his thighs. The only way for me to fit is to rotate onto my side, my body sandwiched between him and the wall, and I rest my head on his shoulder the way I sometimes do when we’re sitting on his couch. I wiggle around a little, trying to get comfortable, until he says, “Wait, sit up for a second.” I do as he commands, and he opens his arm. “Now try.”
I hesitate only for a moment before I lie back down. With his arm now wrapped around my back and his hand curling over my shoulder, I rest my head against his chest. “Better?”
Too tired to overthink, I relax into his side. “Much.”
We watch the movie, and despite everything that happened earlier, I feel a sense of calm wash over me lying next to him like this. With his scent mingling with mine and his warmthcombating the winter chill and his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, the anxiety and expectations leave the room. It’s just the two of us. Like usual. He makes little quips and comments throughout the movie, and I laugh at the bad CG. We groan whenever Jar Jar Binks comes on the screen and cringe at the bad child acting. I’m half-asleep when the film wraps and yawn as he shuts the laptop on the end credits.
“You were wrong,” I tell him. “That was worse than I remembered.”
He chuckles, the deep sound vibrating his chest, and agrees wholeheartedly with my critique. “Yeah, it’s not the best, is it?” His hand squeezes my arm. “Thanks for suffering through that with me.”
“Any time.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers stroking up and down my arm. It feels nice, and my eyes flutter shut. “It’s getting late, Ives,” he murmurs. “Do you want me to go?”
“Do you have to?” I mumble, snuggling closer into his side. Realizing what I just said, my eyes snap open. So much for all that bullshit about how I can’t handle anything more than friendship, but after everything that happened today, the thought of spending the night alone forms a pit in my stomach.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” he asks, giving me a second chance to come to my senses. I don’t. I simply nod and wait for him to call me out for being a giant hypocrite who can’t make up her mind. He doesn’t, of course. He just beams at me like I gave him the best present in the world, thrilled by my decision.
Our plan for the evening settled, I take the bathroom first to do my nighttime routine. After rummaging around in my cabinets, I manage to find a spare toothbrush, which I leave on the sink for Wes to use.
We swap places, and I change into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of striped pajama pants, all the while trying to figure out how this sleeping situation is going to work. Things are going to be…tight. We’ll both have to sleep on our sides in order to fit, so I crawl in first, figuring I can squish up against the wall if Wes splays out in his sleep. Not that he’ll have much room to work with in my pathetic twin bed.
