Neither did our moment on the dance floor. The mere memory makes my core ache, and I clench my legs under the glass table to ease the sudden emptiness I’m feeling.
Maybe that’s the problem. Nothing that ever happens between us feels wrong … to me.
The impressive thing about Wes is his ability to wear many masks. He can be mad one moment and cavalier the next. That’s what he’s doing now as he sits down and talks to Chad about practice and the drills Coach was making them do. They discuss Nathan’s shoulder and Matt’s swing. They make fun of the way Adam runs and talk about their upcoming opponents.
While he seems normal to everyone on the outside, it’s obvious to me that I’m being ignored.
I reach for my drink and take my time in eyeing the man sitting across from me.
“I can’t believe you missed the end of last night’s game. Where did you run off to?” Chad asks Wes. My drink goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough. “You okay, Stacey?”
Covering my mouth, I look up at the ceiling. “I’m good.”
Chad turns back to Wes, who merely states, “Had to see about a girl. Your sister over here blocked my game.”
“You were at the club where Nicole and Stacey were at?”
Confused, Chad looks over at Nicole. “Did you see him?”
“Yep,” she says as she takes a bite.
Wes’s eyes snap to mine, and I give a quick shake, letting him know she didn’t see our moment on the dance floor. This doesn’t seem to relax him.
“What girl?” Chad asks while Wes clenches his jaw and looks down at his plate.
“Whitney.”
“I thought you couldn’t stand that girl.”
Wes pauses as he eyes Chad with a scowl that he quickly changes, almost like a thought suddenly came to him. He glances my way and then back to Chad as a small smile graces his face. “With a rack like hers, I can learn to get along with her.”
I drop my fork, and the loud clatter it makes draws everyone’s attention my way.
“So why’d you block his game?” Chad asks me.
I lift a shoulder. “Consider it payback for all the times he did it to me in high school.”
Chad lets out a deep bellow of laughter because he knows exactly the kind of pranks the two played on me back in the day. This starts him on a tirade of telling Nicole all about them.
While he talks, I listen.
While I listen, Wes stares.
At me.
When dinner is over, I offer to clean up since Nicole cooked and Chad helped her. As the two sneak off to his room, I carry plates into the kitchen. To my surprise, Wes carries a large bowl and a plate in as well and places them on the counter.
I turn on the sink water and start to wash. Wes continues to bring me more dishes and glasses. I’m cleaning up, the suds filling up the tub of the sink as I do so.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wes walking back and forth from the table to the counter. He even cleans it down with Pledge after using a rag to make sure it’s free of food.
I’m rinsing out the pot when he steps directly behind me, almost engulfing me with his warmth. He’s so close, and yet I feel like his mind is a thousand miles away. I can’t get a read on him, especially not now with the way the heat of his body is pressed against mine and the intoxicating scent of soap and heady male is arousing my scenes.
He grabs my arm, pulling me closer to him but also like he’s making sure I can’t leave. I turn my head over my shoulder to see his eyes stare into mine. I can’t tell if he’s going to kiss me or scold me. My breathing picks up, and I can tell his does to.
“Why did you say my name?” he growls.
I pause, almost unsure if I heard his breathy voice correctly over the running water.
“You heard me?” I ask, looking forward again, washing dishes to hide the nervousness currently flooding my body.
He moves in, his lips a whisper from my ear. “You knew I was watching. You didn’t even flinch at the sight of me. You saw me, and instead of stopping like a good little girl, you continued. Why did you put on that show for me?”
My chest tightens as I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the water running over my fingers. It’s no use, trying to ignore the sensation of having him so close to me. Memories of coming so hard that I couldn’t breathe last night come rushing through me. That reaction was because of him.
I dip my head and turn slightly toward him. “I think the question is, why did you watch?”
He stays quiet. I’m not looking at him, but I can feel him—feel his heart pounding against my shoulder. Feel his hand accidentally graze my backside and retreat. Feel his hurried breath against my skin.
I grin at his reaction.
“You watched because you liked it,” I say. He doesn’t answer, so I meet his gaze. “You liked seeing me ride that thing like I would a real man. You imagined it was you.”
His eyes widen, and turn dark.
“When did you get so brazen? Last I remember, you were Squid, and now—”
“Now what?” I challenge as I turn to face him.
His eyes search through mine, as if looking for the answer to the end of his statement. As he finds it, his smile widens into a Cheshire cat grin. “You act tough, but you know when my name fell from those pretty little lips last night, it freaked you out.”
“Why would it freak me out?”
“Because it damn near petrified me.”
He leaves the kitchen, and I stand there with a racing heart, wondering which one of us is playing the game on who.
Chapter Nine
Wes has gone to extra lengths to avoid me. When he’s home, he stays in his room. A good portion of the day, he’s out. When I ask where, no one ever seems to know. Nor do they seem to care why I’m asking.
I know he comes home because the protein powder he uses in his shakes is getting lower in the glass cylinder he keeps on the kitchen counter. And the bathroom has the lingering smell of his cologne, like a ghost who vanishes when the living appear.
On the rare sighting I do have at home, he’s always on his way out to the gym. Chad mentioned he’s turned into a machine with their season just a few months away. He thinks Wes’s new schedule is motivated by baseball. I call bullshit.
I keep telling myself that it could be worse. He could be getting drunk in the apartment and making off-color remarks about my behavior, embarrassing me. Or worse, he could be bringing random girls back to our place and flaunting them in front of me. My first thought is relief. My next is annoyance. I shouldn’t care if he brings girls back here. He’s not mine.
Then, I think about how everyone calls him a man-whore, but I haven’t seen it. I’ve lived here for almost two months now, and I have yet to see him with another girl. Not at the frat house, club, or on campus. I’ve seen him talking to other girls, and the guy knows how to lay on the charm. Maybe he’s going back to their place? My stomach churns at the thought.
With my head all jumbled, I go to the one location that helps me think.
The pool.
Berkeley has a gorgeous lap pool that has open hours for fitness. The feeling of my palms pushing through the water has always been like therapy to me. It’s like I’m swiping away the negative energy of the day and letting go of all of my frustrations with the single glide.