11. Nora

ELEVEN

I spendthe entire bus ride praying that this goes well while also listening to Daisy and Ryan giggling behind us. My nervous tick of twisting around the necklace on my neck doesn't do anything to soothe the weird sense of anxiety I have running through me.

There is nothing more irritating than the grating sound of both of their voices together. I wonder if they know that everyone can hear them talking to each other in baby voices and how good Ryan is going to give it to her tonight. It's revolting.

Like every year, we have a field trip to a museum to learn more about the history of the time period when our musical is set. This year, we're learning all about 18th-century America, and the non-fictional impact Hamilton's role has on our lives today. Usually, these trips would be the perfect time for Kiara and I to hang out and make fun of old garments that we spot, but I'm more on edge than ever, hoping that Wes pulls through with his side of the plan.

I'm pretty proud of myself for not spilling the truth about my and Wes's fake dating plan to Kie on the bus. She was rattling on about how we should think about going on a double date already since she saw the awful pictures that Wes posted of us on Instagram, but I kept my cool. Keeping my mouth shut is not one of my best qualities, and it's especially hard not to tell one of my best friends everything.

When we get off the bus and into the warmth of the museum, I stick with Kiara as we gawk over the random facts that we learn. She's got her arm hooked in mine as we walk around, and I can still hear Ryan talking as if he knows better than everyone else. He's pretending to be a tour guide, rattling facts that no one asked for. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, and we all know that.

"Oh my god," Kiara gasps, pointing at an old sheet of paper that's enclosed in a glass box. "I didn't know Jefferson was an Aries. Everything makes so much more sense now."

"What!" I look over at what she's looking at, and she's right. Huh. "I wonder what the founding fathers would be like if they were into astrology."

Kie snickers as she tugs on my arm towards a wall of paintings. "God, I"m sure it would just be an excuse for their sassiness."

We stop in front of a painting of Alexander Hamilton, and I cross my arms against my chest. I'm convinced the only way I would ever care about the history and drama with these men is through the art of music. Otherwise, they're pretty boring old men.

"I'm sure Hammy here would somehow use his status as a Capricorn to justify his affair with Maria Reynolds," I murmur, tilting my head to the side. Kiara hums before slowly walking down the line of pictures. I stay where I am, scrutinizing the painting in front of me. He looks so fucking smug in this portrait, and so much of him reminds me of the person who is playing him in our take on the musical. It's ironic, really.

As I'm about to end the intense staring contest between me and the painting, I feel one warm hand wrap around my waist, slowly making its way to my stomach. The same hands that had pulled me into him in my dorm earlier.

"Hi, Stargirl," he whispers into my neck. Chills. I get fucking chills everywhere. "Fancy seeing you here."

I turn around, using the best of my acting training as I pretend to be completely smitten with my best friend. I sling my arm around Wes's neck, and he's blushing. "Hey, babe." He pulls his arm out from behind him, showcasing a bouquet of pink lilies. "Flowers? Nice touch."

He shrugs lazily. "I know a thing or two about chivalry."

"Right," I mock, slowly bringing our bodies closer. He wraps both of his hands around my waist, pressing the flowers against my back. "I'm going to look dreamily into your eyes, and you're going to tell me if Ryan and Daisy are watching. Cool?"

He leans down slightly, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Oh, they're watching alright. He had his beady little eyes on me the second I turned up in this joint." I smirk, knowing that's exactly what we both need. Still, he looks… Nervous. Like he doesn't know what he's doing. He feels like he knows what he's doing because his hands feel so warm and just… safe. Or that might just be him. "What is your class doing here anyway?"

He"s trying to make small talk even though he knows exactly what we"re doing since we both orchestrated the whole coincidental meet-up thing. "Research," I say, biting my lip as I try not to laugh.

"Oh." He swallows, and his gaze bounces around, trying not to look at me. "I haven't been on a field trip since high school. It's not fair that you–"

I curl my hands in the hair at the bottom of his neck. Twisting the soft curls around my finger, I tug his head towards mine. "Hey, Wes?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

He nods once. Twice. Three times. "Right. Boyfriend shit."

"Exactly," I say, failing to my laughter. "Boyfriend shit."

His brows furrow. "And what exactly does that entail?"

I shrug. "I dunno. We just need to look affectionate."

He nods again at least ten times in a row. This nervous side of him is making me uneasy. "Right, right, right. Affection, affection, affection. I can be affectionate."

I tilt my head to the side. "Are you sure? Because right now, all I'm getting is panic, panic, panic."

Something switches when I tease him, and some of the anxieties relax on his face. Something else takes over his expression, and I can only describe it as pure hunger. The flowers drop to the ground behind me as he slowly pushes us towards a blank wall. There's a silent question in his eyes, and I'm nodding without even confirming what he means. We've both always been impulsive, and if whatever he's thinking is going to sell our fake relationship, I'm ready to jump in blind.

My entire body comes alive when Wes presses the softest lingering kiss on my jaw, creating a trail of tiny fires until he reaches my neck. I'm practically squirming under his touch, desperately grasping onto his neck as he shows me just how affectionate he can be. The searing spot feels like it's burning holes through my skin as he keeps pressing these soft, dramatic kisses that just make me swoon.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, my pulse beating rapidly when he kisses the star tattoo. "How's this for affection?"

"Mm," is all I manage to get out. I swallow whatever is in my throat that is stopping me from speaking. "It's pretty good."

"Pretty good?" he taunts, trailing one finger down the arm that's wrapped around his neck. "These goosebumps are telling me otherwise, Nora."

"It's cold in here," I mutter, a slight edge to my voice. I hate that his warmth is so damn comforting and that he's still kissing my neck, and I want to curl into a ball at his feet. "And you're so– Why the hell are you so warm?"

He shrugs innocently. "I dunno. Maybe because I've been sitting in the parking lot for the last hour." I hum in response. He shifts his head so we're at eye level now. My mouth dries. "Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

As I expect, he moves his attention to the other side of my neck, leaving achingly soft kisses there. I'm just standing there, my hands still curled in his hair as he works his magic. No wonder girls are always at his feet when he kisses like this, and it's not even on my mouth.

I start to come back to earth, and when my vision clears, I spot Ryan and Daisy walking towards us, hand in hand. Just the sight of them makes the hairs stand up at the back of my neck. I clear my throat, tugging on Wes's hair. "They're coming over here," I mutter.

He peels himself off me, clasping his hands together as if he's about to give a speech. He takes a deep breath, picking up the flowers that we almost crushed and shoving them into my hands. "Okay, are you ready for the big sell?"

He pulls me into him by the waist, and I jolt."The big se–"

He cuts me off with a dramatic sigh, slinging his arm around my shoulder. "You know, Nora, I still can't believe that loser actually let you go."

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, wide-eyed. This was not part of the plan. He just mouths, ‘Trust me,' and continues pulling me along with him until we're almost in front of Daisy and Ryan.

Of course, Wes continues talking.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on. You're funny, you're smart, and that thing that you do with your tongue? Goddamn extraordinary," he says, possibly loud enough for the entire museum to hear. Jesus, he's bad at this.

"Okay, reign it in, loverboy," I mutter, jabbing him in the stomach. He just winks at me like this is the best thing to happen to him, which, in turn, means it's mortifying for me.

Ryan stops in front of us, sizing us up and down. "Hey," he says to me, giving me a douchey head nod. He turns to Wes, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't know you were allowed on these trips, fella. I thought the football team was only allowed out of their cages on weekends."

Wes gives Ryan the brightest grin I've ever seen, as if his words don"t affect him. Hell, maybe they don't. Maybe I'm the one who is secretly too soft to let everything get to my head.

"Yeah, well, funny thing about places like these; they're open to the public, fella," Wes says, his voice extra sweet yet dangerous. His arm tightens around my shoulder. "Don't want to miss out on any quality time with my girl."

Ryan's face turns white. I swear his lips turn purple at the way I'm snuggled into Wes's side, his arm possessively wrapping around me like I might slip away from him. Daisy has the same stoic expression on her face like she always does, always pretending like nothing really matters to her.

Ryan stumbles over his words. "So– So this is actually for real? All those pictures he posted weren"t just for show? You're actually a couple?"

Maybe Wes's chronic over-posting isn't such a bad thing after all. Wes puffs out his chest. "Yup," he says, smiling down at me and then back at Ryan. "Very, very real. Very serious, too. But hey, there's no point in me trying to tell you about serious. Clearly, that's not your thing."

Ryan lets go of Daisy's hand, and she immediately goes to check her cuticles. Honestly, I'm glad she doesn't seem to care. It makes this whole thing a lot easier. And it makes this whole bro-man-stand-off thing with Wes and Ryan that much hotter. They're both in each other's faces, and fists balled at their sides as if they're waiting for the other to make the first move. Part of me just wants to sit back and enjoy the show, but I don't exactly want to watch my best friend beat the shit out of my ex-boyfriend.

Who am I kidding? Of course, I want to see that.

Just maybe not today.

"You know what–"

I cut Ryan off, sticking my head between the two of them. "Whoa, hold your horses. We can all be nice to each other, can't we? Like Penny said, we need to get along. I think the first rule of that is respecting each other"s significant others, right?"

Ryan scoffs. "You don't have a problem with Daisy. You just don't like that she's not you."

This time, I scoff. "Actually, it's the complete opposite. I'm glad I'm not dating you. I mean, after your little dating spree when we broke up, who knows what you might have." Now Daisy wants to tune in, her eyes widening. Ryan just blinks at me. "Oh, and congrats, Ryan. You were right. Apparently, Wes did have a thing for me, but he did the respectful thing and waited until we broke up. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"Damn right," Wes agrees, pressing a kiss to my cheek. It's sloppy, messy, and way over the top, but it does the job. I give Ryan and Daisy the smuggest smirk possible as Wes slips his hand around my waist, dragging it lazily across my stomach as I pretend to not be affected by it. "Let's go."

We get halfway to the lobby between the exhibitions before I'm almost screaming with excitement. Wes's back is to me as he continues walking in front of me. "Did you see his face? I have never seen him like that before. We fucking killed it."

No response.

For someone who usually has a lot to say, he's awfully quiet. He looks like he's trying to readjust his jacket in a really strange way. I jog to catch up with him as he continues walking. I don't think he's even looking where he's going.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, pulling on his arm.

"Nothing," he mutters, "It's pretty hot in here, don't you think? Just trying to get this zip down."

"Oh. Do, uh, do you want help?"

"No!" His hands fly out at his sides dramatically.

"Okay, Jesus. I was just asking." I back up from him, finding a bench in the hallway as he mindlessly moves around the small space. I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. I'm getting restless watching him mess around, and my patience is thinning. "Will you just let me help you, you fool?"

I stand up, pulling on his arm again. "No! Just– Just keep your hands to yourself."

"Why? You're clearly struggling. Just turn around," I argue, yanking his arm. Again. He pulls his arm back. "Hey, stop fighting me."

"You stop fighting me," he grumbles, using one arm to push me back, but I'm stronger than he thinks. I reach around him with both of my hands, tickling him under the jacket he's so desperate to take off. "Nora, stop."

He's squirming now. "Why? You're not ticklish, are you?" I tease, finding out that he is indeed very ticklish. His throaty laugh escapes him, and my own giggles are contagious. I finally make my way in front of him, and as I try to reach for his zipper to put us both out of our misery, I completely mess up the proportions and accidentally brush my hand over his crotch.

We both freeze.

Whoa.

Whoa.

There's a very large warning sign blinking at me saying DO NOT TOUCH, and even though it was an accident, we're both staring at each other like the world is about to end. Wes instantly starts to panic, his face turning red, and before I can tell him to calm down, he's falling back over his own two feet, reaching out for me and pulling me right down with him.

I collapse onto his chest with a thud.

We both blink.

Breathe.

Then burst out laughing.

This guy is the most stupid person I have ever met, and I can't get enough of him. He makes me want to punch him just as much as I want to hug him. There's never a dull moment with him.

I lean up off his chest when our laughter dies down, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware that my bare legs are wrapped around him. "You stubborn idiot," I manage through my laughter, shaking my head.

Wes rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut up." He clearly doesn't know what to do with his hands in this position, so they awkwardly rest on my thighs. I try to move back so I can stand up at the same time he tries to move me forward, and we're caught again in another painfully awkward moment.

Will today just get over with itself and die already?

My eyes widen when I feel what's beneath me. "Oh my God. Are you–"

"Come on, Nora," he bites out, shaking his head. "You're straddling me right now. Of course, I'm hard."

I press my lips together in a line, desperately trying not to laugh. "But you were already adjusting before this. Please don't tell me a few neck kisses and waist-holding is what gets you hot under the collar." He doesn't say anything, which confirms that I'm right. I watch the color wash into his cheeks as he keeps staring up at me. I poke him in the cheek. "Wes."

He sighs. "That might have been the first time I've been close to another girl in months. It has nothing to do with you, Nora. It's just a biological thing. Don't read into it."

I am this close to laughing in his face again. Boys clearly have no restraint over their horniness. "We were hardly doing anything! You didn't even kiss me."

"Doesn't matter," he says, shrugging. "Lieutenant Benson doesn't know that."

"Lieutenant Be…" My voice trails off when he nods to the space between us. "Do you have a name for your dick?"

"Yes," he says seriously. "Every guy does. Now, get off me before you start feeling something you don't want to."

From the awkward repositioning, I'm now further down his thighs than before. I pat him on the chest. "Oh, come on. You're not that big."

He tilts his head to the side. "Want to find out?"

He's looking at me like he really wants me to, and I couldn't think of anything worse. Wes always flirts with me. That much isn't new. But what I don't like is the way it feels so easy to flirt back. I'm telling myself it's because I'm single, and I actually have the option, and it doesn't feel wrong.

I open my mouth, ready to say something, but Penny and Kiara's voices fill the echoey room, laughing about something. They both stop in their tracks when they see us, and Kie's eyes bulge out of her head cartoon-style.

Penny shakes her head, clearly trying to contain her laughter. "Hamilton would be absolutely appalled."

"I don't think so," Kiara says, winking at me, "I'm sure he would heavily encourage this."

When I look down at Wes, his face red and hot all over, I wonder how well this will play out. This all feels like one big game of dress up like we're little kids again. I'm just waiting for the moment that our parents will tell us it's time to stop.