33. Nora

THIRTY-THREE

Haveyou ever cried so hard that you forget what you're crying for? Where your chest feels like it's collapsing in on itself, and you can't get yourself to stop. Or you're crying so hard to the point where you feel ridiculous, and you just want to laugh at yourself. I'm stuck between both of them right now.

Last night was the first time in a while that I've cried that hard. Being overwhelmed with the show, still not hearing back from Max, and then losing my necklace all came crashing down on me like an avalanche. Everything felt too hard to carry. The weight of thinking I'd never be good enough sent me into a spiral. I've felt like a burden these last few months, and the last thing I wanted to do was pull Elle away from her dance rehearsal or, worse, ask Cat to call off her date just so she could deal with my meltdown.

Wes's presence has a habit of calming me down. He might be chaotic and loud and say things that don't make sense, but he's always had my back. He never judges me. He's seen all the worst parts of me, the parts that I find ugly, and he still cares about me.

Just like now as we lay in my bed, feeling like the calm after the storm. I didn't sleep much last night, but after I kept tossing and turning, Wes eventually pulled me into him and held on to me so I could get a few hours in. He didn't let go of me the entire night.

I shift in the bed, sitting up against the headboard. My head is spinning, and I desperately need some aspirin and at least a pint of water. We've been awake for a while, just silently enjoying each other's presence, and I couldn't think of anything more perfect.

Wes pushes himself up next to me, running a hand through his messy hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I say, the word instantly making me yawn. Wes chuckles quietly, shaking his head at me. He looks tired, too. There are bags under his eyes, and he's got lines on his face from the places where his face was pressed into the sheets. "Thank you for coming over yesterday. I'm sorry that I called you like that."

He shrugs, rubbing his eye, which only makes me feel worse. "You don't have to apologize," he says.

"But I do, Wes." His mouth opens as he rests his head against the headboard, turning to me. I point at him. "Don't cut me off, okay?" He nods, a sleepy grin spreading across his face. "I feel like I'm pulling you into my shit. You're already trying to figure your own life out, and I'm just making it so much worse. I know I said we'd put a pin in it, but maybe we should just take the pin out."

"And do what?" he asks softly.

"I don't know," I admit. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to continue doing this because we're both horny and you feel sorry for me."

"Can I say something now?" I nod. "I want this, Nora. I want you. And I only want to take the pin out if it means that we get to do this."

My chest tingles at his words. "And what is this?"

"This," he murmurs right before he kisses me. My entire body comes alive when Wes's lips are on mine. It's like his touch is constantly bringing me back to life, making me crave him that much more. I want the roughness of his lips against my smooth ones. I want to feel the way his hands slide into my hair. The way he tugs the strands at the nape of my neck, desperately trying to get more of me. I crave the way I open up to him, letting him take me.

His thumbs smooth across my cheeks as he rears back slightly. "God, Nora," he mutters. "I'm never going to get tired of this."

"You're not?"

"Never," he whispers. "I would look at you all day if I could. I'd spend every moment kissing you, cherishing you, doing anything you asked me if you gave me a chance."

His saccharine words make my heart feel like it's going to fall out of my chest. When his lips connect with mine again, I give him everything. My mouth works seamlessly with his, our tongues dancing together like we just know the exact way to make each other feel good. My hands can't stop touching and exploring his body. I twine my fingers in his curly hair, needing him closer to me, needing to feel him everywhere.

I hook one leg over his waist, pushing myself into his lap. We both gasp when his hard dick presses into me, but we don't stop. I'm frantically trying to kiss him as I pull my shirt over my head, throwing it away. I swear Wes's pupils dilate when he sees that I'm only wearing a bra. My entire chest flushes with heat before he dives right in, kissing across my chest like he was made to do it. His hands travel down my sides, squeezing my waist as he pushes me closer to him, still feasting on me.

"You feel too good," he mutters. He leaves long lingering kisses across my neck, making my head roll back. "I've missed having you like this. Since I had one taste, I've been dying for another."

"Me too," I pant, gripping his hair for stability as he trails his kisses down the valley of my breasts. "I wanted… I wanted to do this on Jarvis"s birthday. I don't think I've wanted anything this badly."

He shakes his head, kissing back up my chest. "No, I mean before that. I've wanted you for years. Ever since we were kids and you confirmed to me what beauty meant. I've wanted you since then."

I disguise the tightening in my chest with humor as I pull his head up to face me. "Jesus, you're such a romantic," I mutter before I kiss him again.

My whole body feels achy from the position we're in, but it feels way to fucking good to stop. Wes rolls me over him, clearly satisfied with the moan that leaves my mouth when he does.

He pulls back from me, his eyes narrow. "Wait? Watching me pamper my cat is what did it for you?"

I bark out a laugh. "Well, that amongst other things."

He tilts his head to the side, that sexy as fuck smile on his lips. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Your haircut," I say instantly. I love a decent haircut and length on a man. Sue me. "The way you talk about me. The way you make me feel. Your humor. Your smile. Your?—"

He cuts me off with a kiss. "Okay, stop, or I'm going to pass out."

I do as he says, unable to hide the huge grin that's on my face. Every touch from him feels like there's a fire inside me. Every time he says my name quietly like he's trying to remind himself that he's got me now. We're always giving ourselves to one another. Always trying to make the other feel good. He proves that to me as he keeps rolling me over him, and I can feel my arousal seeping through my shorts. My hips are doing most of the work, grinding down on him until I'm left a whimpering mess. Each time I feel like he's going to increase the speed, he just edges me and slows down again, holding tighter onto my hips.

"Wes," I whimper, my body feeling out of control from this push and pull. "That feels too good. Stop teasing me."

He hums. "Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yes," I hiss.

He just smiles, gripping onto my hips to move me over his length so fucking slowly. "Is this torturing you, baby?"

God.

Wes has a million and one nicknames for me, but this one fucks me up the most inside. Especially when he's beneath me like this, his hands branding all over my body as I desperately try to get myself off. And he's not letting me.

"Yes." The back of my neck is gathering sweat, and I'm painfully writhing in his lap.

His grin turns evil. "Great. Now you know how I've felt for the last five years watching you kiss someone that isn't me."

"You're one jealous mother?—"

The loud sound of a knock at my door interrupts me. I freeze in place.

"Nora? Are you home?" Cat calls from the other side of the door. "I need a debrief after last night's date. You'll never?—"

"Can we talk later?" I ask. My voice turns into a strained whimper when Wes pulls down the material of my bra, sucking my nipple into his mouth. He keeps his eyes locked with mine, and my vision blurs. The small bud hardens at the attention, a sensation I haven't felt in months. "I'm, uh, kinda busy."

"Doing what?" Cat laughs on the other side of the door, which I hope disguises the moan that leaves my mouth when Wes swirls his tongue around my nipple. He doesn't get the hint to stop, and part of me doesn't want him to because he's making me feel like a goddess right now.

He grinds my core into him.

"Wes," I cry out.

"You're doing Wes?" Cat asks.

He grins up at me, watching the way the heat rushes to my cheeks. I'm panting now, about to fall off the edge of the cliff with the stimulation. "Can we just talk later?"

"Sure," she replies, "Just use a condom, you freaks. I don't want any little Wes' running around when we graduate."

When I hear her footsteps pad away, I let Wes continue worshiping my body as I grind down into his lap. I've never finished with so many clothes covering me, but with the way Wes holds me, the way his hard length is pressing into me, and the way his tongue works over my nipple is bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

I do the stupid thing and look down at him, and his eyes lock with mine. I'm completely drenched, my wetness seeping onto his sweatpants. I'd be embarrassed if it didn't feel this good. His hands roam over my back, clutching me closer to him as he drags his lips up my chest. He brings his lips to my ear, whispering, "Are you going to come for me, baby?"

"Yes," I moan. I've never heard such dirty words come out of his mouth, and I fucking love it.

"That's my good girl." That's what does it. It's like a switch is flicked when he whispers those simple words in my ear. Praise from the right people has always done it for me, and hearing them come out of Wes's mouth tips me right over.

I try to catch my breath, feeling like a hot, sweaty mess, and I drop my head to Wes's shoulder. He holds me there, chuckling as he runs his hand down my spine as the sensation rattles through me. "Jesus Christ, Wes. That was?—"

"Hot," he replies, bringing his hand from my back to around my neck, turning my head towards him.

"Yeah," I murmur, still panting. He holds me close to him, and the realization dawns on me. I don't want to constantly question what we are to each other like I did with Ryan. I want to know where we stand and how he feels. "What does this mean?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Whatever you want it to mean." I hum, liking that answer, but it still doesn't completely settle me. It still feels like my head is empty and full all at the same time. As if reading my mind, he asks, "What are you scared of, Sunshine? Tell me what you're thinking, and let me help you."

I sigh. "I'm scared of messing this up. Ruining the system. And you can't pretend there isn't a system. You know what it is."

I sit up better in his lap to face him, and he just shrugs. "Cat and Connor broke the system. Why can't we?"

"Because I'm a mess," I laugh, thinking about how put-together Catherine is—how perfect she is for a person like Connor. Wes and I are constantly in stupid situations, and that isn't going to change overnight.

"I want you," he says roughly, holding onto my cheeks. "I want us, Nora. Me and you together. That's the way it's supposed to be."

"According to who?"

"Me."

I tilt my head to the side, but he rubs his thumb softly under my eye. "And I don't get a say in it?"

"Of course you do," he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. "What's your heart telling you, Stargirl?"

I take a deep breath. "I want you, too."

Wes closes his eyes, letting out a breath of relief. "Thank fuck, because the rest of the day would have gone to shit if you didn't."

I pull apart from him. "What are you talking about?"

I had given up trying to guess what Wes would do next when we were five years old. That way, I'm always in a constant state of surprise when I'm around him. I always feel I'm floating because, though he might keep me on Earth, he also lifts me so high that it's like I'm flying.

All I can do when someone knocks on our door is eye Wes up and down. He stands in the hallway with his arms against his chest like he just knows that he's got me now. Even when the huge bouquet of pink lilies is shoved in my face, he just continues smiling at me like I hung the fucking moon.

"Did you get these because of my mega dramatic meltdown yesterday?" I ask, moving the bouquet on the counter.

"No, I got them a week ago. I don't know why they took so long," he grumbles.

I snort. "Why?"

"Why did they take so long? I don't fucking know. I tried to ask?—"

"No, Wes. Why did you buy me the flowers?" I ask, unable to contain my laughter. He pulls me into him by my waist, a classic move I'll never get tired of.

He shrugs. "I just wanted to."