25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Wes

I didn’t do it on purpose.

Okay, that’s a lie. I totally did.

But come on, when a golden opportunity falls into your lap, you can’t just brush it off like, oh, maybe next time. That’s how you die from a total freak accident. Like falling off a skyscraper. Or getting pulled over at airport security.

It’s universally known that if you give karma the finger, you get the finger in return. Call it bad luck, bad energy, or just plain old bad vibes; the fact remains that if you disrespect the universe, she will disrespect you back.

So when Trip’s knock intercepted my dash from the shower to my room I couldn’t notstrut over and swing the door open wide. It would have been rude to leave my guest outside and I’m not about to sign up for a lifetime of luggage searches.

Or, you know, a thousand-foot fall.

“Hola senorita,” using the worst accent possible, I fling the door open with a shit-eating grin plastered to my face. My smile falters as I register the girl on the other side.

Holy shit. I’ve forgotten how to breath.

“Uh, Wes?” The vision in front of me tilts her head, making the golden-brown waves slide off her shoulder and reveal the thin black spaghetti strap of her dress.

Words, Wes. Use your words.

“Hm?” The moan-like sound isn’t quite what I had in mind, but it’ll do. Trip’s eyes light up with amusement, and my attention is dragged to the sparkles outlining the swirling shades of grey. Jesus, since when do I notice the makeup girls wear?

“You’re wearing a towel.”

The comment brings me back to reality and with a smirk, I casually lean against the doorframe. Trip’s skittering gaze jumps from my chest to my abs, and back up to my face again. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying myself.

“I was in the middle of making dinner.”

“In a towel?” A blush creeps its way along Trip’s neck, making me wonder how far down it goes.

“You’d be surprised how productive I can be in this outfit.” I throw her a wink and step aside to wave her in, “I was just about to get dressed when you knocked. Thought I’d give you a pre-show before dinner.”

I try not to sniff Trip’s hair as she walks by, but it’s no use. Like an addict, I inhale as deeply as possible and grip my towel tighter. The thin material is not doing me any favours right now.

“Make yourself at home.” I wave grandly towards the worn sofas and scurry towards my bedroom in search of clothes.

Keep it in the towel, Wes. Keep it in the towel.

“Can I do anything to help?” Trip’s voice echoes through the crack I leave in my door and I let my towel fall to the floor.

Is it presumptuous to assume Trip will sneak a glance while I get changed? Probably. But hey, if she wants a peek, she wants a peek. I’m not about to deny my girl one of life’s greatest pleasures.

“Nope, just sit back, relax, and prepare your taste buds to go to heaven.” Pulling a dark green polo shirt over my head, I run a hand through my wet hair and walk back to where Trip is trying to peek in the fridge.

“Oi, get your hands out of there! Don’t ruin the surprise.” Trip jumps back, laughing, her short black dress swishing with the motion. Smooth, slender legs distract me momentarily as I march over to protect the surprise.

“What are we having?” I slap her prying hands away, creating a protective bubble around the fridge with my body. “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”

Trip sighs and looks around the room.

“Always so dramatic. Do you want me to set the, uh, TV stand?” I chuckle and shake my head.

Given the mandatory meal plan for freshmen, the kitchen – if you can call it that – is more for emergency ramen than actual food. No oven, no stove, and no dining table; Taber offers first years the bare minimum with a small heating plate and a microwave. Luckily, given the meal on tonight’s menu, there wasn’t much need for anything more than that.

“Nope.” Gorgeous grey eyes narrow with suspicion as I carefully open the fridge and place various containers into a grocery bag. I flash her a dimpled grin and haul the bag over one shoulder.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me…” Letting my voice trail off to build anticipation, I lead Trip out the door and into the hall.

Remnant beams of sunlight streak through the dimly lit corridors, giving the campus an eerie glow. Looking back to make sure Trip’s still with me, I smile at the sight of her eyes fixating on the sinking sun.

“Almost there,” whispering, I slowly push open the side doors.

“Is this… are we in the courtyard?” Delight fills Trip’s voice as familiar cobblestones come into view.

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” I lead her through rows of flowers until we arrive at a makeshift table lit with candles and a checkered cloth thrown over top. Two stolen benches line either side, giving it a slight homeless vibe, but one that fits the scenery perfectly.

Trip gasps, “Oh my gosh, Wes. You did all this?”

I shrug, offering a sheepish smile, “Nico helped. If we get reported to campus security for stealing these benches though, you better come bail us out.”

Those benches were fucking heavy. Nico and I aren’t small guys, but it still took two of us to carry the wooden slabs off to the side. The worst part of the situation? Our struggle was witnessed by no less than five girls walking by, each one stopping to offer assistance.

Nico and I still don’t talk about it.

“Deal.” Laughing, Trip settles herself on the far bench, crossing her delicate legs at the ankles. Letting my eyes roam over the extra two inches of skin revealed, I turn my attention back to the task at hand: carefully placing each container on the relatively small table and passing my guest her napkin and utensils. A plastic knife and fork fall out of Trip’s napkin, and she raises her eyebrow in amusement.

“Curtesy of the cafeteria.” I pass her a paper plate – also from the cafeteria – and wave a hand over the laid-out feast, “Help yourself.”

Trip inches forward to peer into the closest one, a smile stretching across her face as she studies the contents, “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this… this is perfect.”

I beam at the praise and pass Trip a taco shell.

Full disclosure: I can’t cook for shit. Hence the meal choice that is ninety percent cutting and ten percent cooking.

Hey, I’m not just a pretty face you know.

Grabbing a shell from the pile, I start filling one for myself. “I figured it was the least I could do after our last date ended up in the emergency room. How is Stella doing by the way?”

Trip reaches for the salsa, and I nudge it closer. “I think she’s doing better, I mean it’s hard to tell sometimes. Stella doesn’t open up easily.” A slight frown tugs at Trip’s brows.

I think back to her roommate’s reaction at the hospital. Even as someone who doesn’t know Stella well, it was pretty obvious there was more to the story than just Cody’s injuries.

“Has she opened up to you at all?” I bite into my taco and wince. The ground beef is a little more cooked than I thought.

“We had a good talk this morning, but it definitely stung when I found out how much she’s been keeping from me.” I nod in understanding, trying not to cough from the charred meat stuck in my throat.

“That… makes sense,” I wheeze out the words and suck in a lungful of air. God, I didn’t know beef could taste this bad.

“Did you tell her how you’ve been feeling?” I casually move the meat container off to the side so Trip can’t reach it. I hope she likes vegetables.

“Ya, I did. The conversation itself was really good, and she’s still the closest friend I’ve ever had… but I guess I’m still a bit tender.” Suddenly, Trip covers both cheeks with her hands, “I’m sorry, this isn’t what we should be talking about. You don’t need to hear about this.”

Now it’s my turn to frown, “Hey, I want to hear about this. Life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, most of the time it drop kicks you in the face and leaves you bleeding in the gutter.”

Trip blinks at me, her lips pulling into a wry smile, “That is quite the visual.”

I lean forward to rest my elbows on the table. “It’s true though. Life is a trainwreck with short intervals of smooth sailing sprinkled in between. But here’s the thing, Trip. I wantto be in your life, and that means being a part of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Excuse the cliché.” I dab my mouth with a paper napkin as though I’m wiping off the residue of the overused phrase.

“No matter how crazy amazing or utterly horrible your day is going, I want to hear about it. I want to be a partof it.” I abruptly finish my monologue and lean back on my bench, suddenly aware my rush of verbal diarrhea may have my date running scared.

Looking across the candlelit table, I see tears glistening in Trip’s eyes. The sight makes me want to scoop her up in a hug, but I hold back, knowing she probably wants some space from the creeper who just dumped eighteen years of devotion onto her.

“Wes, I…” Trip swallows thickly, voice dropping just below a whisper, “I want to be part of your life too.” Relief floods my veins and I feel a smile stretching across my mouth.

“In that case, cheers.” I raise an imaginary glass – another thing I forgot to bring – and tilt in her direction.

“Cheers to going on a terrible yet never boring ride together.” She pretends to knock her glass against mine and I grab her hand, bringing it to my lips for a kiss.

Those rare, perfect moments I was just talking about? Pretty sure I’m in the middle of one right now.

Lou

If you asked me two months ago, whether I was a romantic, my answer would have been a nonchalant shrug. Neither here, nor there, just doing my best to keep my head down and get through life as socially pain-free as possible.

But now, if you asked me that same question, I am not sure what my answer would be. The feelings stirring up inside me as I look at the guy across the table feels too genuine to throw a label as cheesy as romance on it. But maybe that’s just it. Maybe you spend your whole life seeing the world through one perspective that when a new one comes along, when a new person comes along, suddenly all the labels you applied to yourself, and to the world around you, suddenly become transformed to the point where you can’t remember where they stemmed from in the first place.

Oh God. I am starting to sound like Professor Anderson.

“I really am sorry about the meat. I swear I only had it on high for like two minutes.” It only took about ten minutes for Wes to confess his lack of cooking skills, and by that time he had already warned me to stay away from the concerningly dark taco meat.

I raise an eyebrow in his direction, and he sighs, “Fine. It was probably more like twenty minutes. Or thirty.” I giggle and gesture towards the rest of the empty containers.

“At least the vegetableswere impressively chopped. And I must say, the salsa was outstanding.” Wes barks out a laugh, shaking his head in agreement.

“The store-bought salsa was the highlight of the meal. Next time I’ll take you to a proper restaurant, so we can eat meat without indigestion. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Smiling, I look around the table and clear my throat, “We should probably clean up, it’s getting pretty late.”

Wes gasps in horror, “But we haven’t had dessert yet!”

I sneak a look at the empty grocery bag tucked beneath his bench, “I don’t see any more food hiding in that bag, Wes.”

He tsks and wags a finger at me, “You gotta start having more faith in me, gorgeous.” I feel my cheeks grow warm from the endearment.

“Well then, what’s for dessert?” Wes’ gaze flicks to my lips before returning to my eyes. A slow smile spreads across his handsome face and I have to stop myself from sighing.

“Let me quickly run back to my dorm to get it. I’m afraid this option on the menu had to stay refrigerated.” He stands up and starts stacking the containers back into the grocery bag. “You stay here, I’ll be back in a flash.” He throws me a wink but before he can go anywhere, I jump up and snag his arm.

“Or maybe we could have dessert back at your dorm?” My heart thunders in my ears as the words slip past my lips. Seeing Wes’ eyes widen with surprise, I find myself adding, “It’s getting a little chilly.”

Green eyes trail down my arms, raising goosebumps on exposed skin that have nothing to do with the cool night air. Hastily removing the candles from the table, Wes bends down to gently drape the checkered cloth around my shoulders.

“Is that better?” I nod and hug the tablecloth tighter around me. Grabbing the grocery bag with one hand, Wes nods towards the path from which we came, and together we make our way back to his dorm.

“Aren’t you going to guess what it is?” Wes’ voice echoes from where the top half of his body has disappeared into the refrigerator. I lean against the back of the couch, admiring the way his jeans hug the round curve of his butt. Wes definitely doesn’t skip leg day.

“Ice cream?” A muffled scoff echoes from the kitchen.

“Please, I deserve more credit than that.” Tussled black hair and a cheeky smile come into view as Wes straightens from behind the open door. The polo shirt Wes is wearing stretches tight across his shoulders, outlining the hard planes of his chest.

I swallow, remembering the towel from the pre-show earlier, and try to focus on the green eyes that seem to glow brighter against the dark forest colour of his shirt.

“Chocolate ice cream?” I offer the suggestion with an eyebrow wiggle as Wes struts over with a single glass bowl.

“Not even close. Close your eyes.” Sighing, I clap my hands over my eyes. The couch cushions dip as Wes sits down beside me. My body naturally tilts towards his with the movement and I feel his arm reach out to steady me.

“Okay… open them.” Wes’ warm breath tickles my ear, and despite the warmth radiating from his body, a shiver runs down my spine.

I slowly remove my hands, holding my breath as I take in the non-existent space between us. My bare thigh presses against Wes’ jeans, his arm is all but wrapped around my waist to keep me steady. My gaze travels up to the glass dish being pressed against my side and I gasp, “I was right!”

Wes chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “Technically, the ice cream is just an addition. What do you think?”

A grin splits my face as I take in the delicious smell of the cafeteria’s dessert poutine, complete with cinnamon sugar and chocolate sauce.

“I think dessert may very well beat our meatless tacos.” Wes smiles as he holds up two spoons, metal this time.

“Bon appetite.” Before Wes can finish his career as a waiter, I grab a spoon and the dish from his hands, dashing from the couch to make a breakaway. Given the four feet of space, I make it two steps from the sofa before Wes grabs me by the waist and wrestles me onto his lap.

“That was mine!” I squeal with outrage as he takes my spoon and steals the first bite, moaning loudly as the sweet blend melts on his tongue. I push against his chest to steal back my spoon, but Wes leans back and holds it just out of my reach.

“That’s what you get for not wanting to share. Didn’t your mother tell you sharing is caring?” I scowl at his handsome face, the furrow of my brows deepening the divots of his dimples.

“You’re annoying.” Wes clucks his tongue, scooping another large bite.

“Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you have some.” I narrow my eyes at him, watching him slowly chew another bite of the poutine.

Fine, two can play at that game.

“Kind sir,” looking at him from beneath my lashes makes me see double but desperate times and all that.

“May I pretty please have some of my dessert?”

I flutter my lashes for extra effect and Wes laughs, “Don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll take it.”

Beaming in triumph, I watch Wes scoop the perfect fry to ice cream ratio and offer it to me. Keeping my eyes trained on his, I lean forward and take the spoon in my mouth.

Sighing with content, I pull back and lick my lips, enjoying the way Wes’ eyes darken with the movement. Gently removing the spoon from his hand, I dip it back into the dessert and hold it up to his mouth. He opens without hesitation, and I watch breathlessly as he skims his tongue along the bottom of the spoon before taking a bite.

Whoa. Does this qualify as foreplay?

Caught in an emerald stare, I feel my breath catch as Wes raises his finger to lightly trace my bottom lip. His finger runs past my jaw, gently tapping the soft skin of my throat as I swallow. Wes leans forward and I meet him halfway, our lips crashing together in a tangle of tongues and teeth.

Any slow burn from earlier falls away as a fiery need sweeps its way across the room. I grip the front of Wes’ polo shirt tightly as he hoists my hips higher on his own. My dress creeps up until it’s just the thin lining of my panties against the hard ridge of his jeans.

I gasp at the sensation and the sound seems to trigger something inside Wes, making him abruptly pull away. Our heavy breathing fills the room, and Wes’ gaze scans across my flushed face.

“Maybe we should slow down. Unless you’re ready, I mean…” He curses, trying to shift my hips so they aren’t pressing against the bulge in his pants. I bite back a smile at his fumbling.

“Not that I’m expecting anything, I just… shit. This is coming out all wrong, and I can’t think when you’re looking at me like that.” Shaking his head, Wes squeezes his eyes shut, sexual energy radiating from his every pore.

Shifting so my body position is less of a distraction, I softly tap his chest.

“Wes?”

Peeling his eyes ever-so-slowly open, I can tell from Wes’ heavy breathing that he’s feeling out of control right now. He nervously shifts beneath me, an uncertain expression on his face. I reach out to brush the dark, midnight strands from his forehead, and smile at the overconfident rookie who seems to have lost his confidence.

“Will you have sex with me tonight?”