Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Movement at the back of the room catches my attention, and I glance up to see Wes waving his hand to draw my gaze. My panicked eyes latch onto his.
You got this, he mouths. Breathe.
I suck in a breath. Exhale.
Stay focused on me. He gestures between us with his finger. It’s me and you.
I give the smallest nod, my eyes never wavering from his, and make one final attempt to find my voice.
“H-how many people here consider themselves i-introverts?” I stutter out, the question catching on my tongue, and dread seizes my chest at the shaky delivery.
But when over half the class raises their hand, my eyes flit back to Wes’s in shock.
He smiles and nods with encouragement, and I force myself to continue.
Taking a breath, I attempt the next line.
“I-I also consider myself an introvert. The g-good news is that there are, um, definite benefits to spending time alone…”
With every word, my panic subsides. My eyes never waver from Wes’s, our connection across the room my lifeline, hauling me out of my own head, steering me back on track.
The more I talk, the more muscle memory kicks in, and the easier it becomes to recite the speaking points I’ve spent countless hours memorizing.
Wes’s gaze never once wavers. He hardly blinks, remaining a strong and steady force of encouragement.
And when I deliver the final sentence, his broad smile is so blinding that I have to squint.
I smile back in return, wider than I have in a long time, relief and joy bubbling up inside me that I did it.
“Nicely done, Ivy,” says Markham. “Give it up for Ivy Combs, everyone.” The room applauds, and Wes jumps to his feet, nearly knocking over his desk in the process.
He whistles between his fingers and whoops loudly, his claps reverberating through the room.
Markham gestures for him to be seated. “Alright, Mr. Tucker. Let’s not get too rowdy, now. ”
“Sorry, Professor,” he says, dropping back down in his chair. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“I’m sure,” says Markham with a playful eye roll. “Ivy, let me have your note cards and then you can take a seat.”
I pass the cards to the professor before making my way to the back of the room, slipping into my chair. My hands are still shaking, this time from adrenaline, and I press them flat against the desk.
Wes is still grinning at me, his entire face alight. “You fucking killed it, Ives,” he whisper-shouts.
“You think?” I ask, self-doubt creeping in like it always does.
His gaze is unwavering. “I know. You were incredible.”
I give him another relieved smile. Does he realize I couldn’t have done it without him? “Thanks. I messed up at the beginning, though.”
“You could barely tell. Trust me.”
“You could tell.”
“Sure,” he says softly, something shifting behind his eyes. His gaze intensifies, and for a moment I’m drowning in those dark irises. “But no one in this class knows you like I do. And thank fuck for that.”
My cheeks warm at the gruff note in his voice, and I stare down at my desk, biting back another smile.
When I glance up at him again, he’s still looking at me, mouth tilted up in a smirk.
Our eyes remain locked until the last of the students starts presenting, and then I reluctantly face the front of the room.
My relief is heady, more intoxicating than any liquor, and I have to work to stop from grinning through the rest of class like a crazed lunatic.
Finally, Markham stands. “And so concludes the first speech of the semester! Well done, everyone. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? No homework for today. Soak in the relief that your first speech is out the door. Only two more to go.”
I get to my feet, pulling my bag onto the desk as I slip into my jacket.
I look to Wes, about to tell him how relieved I am, only to find his attention already occupied by the girl who presented at the start of class.
Her name escapes me, but there’s no denying that she’s pretty.
A weird feeling stirs my gut, and I swallow.
“You were really great, Wes,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “So funny.”
I look down at my backpack, pretending to arrange things inside while eavesdropping on Wes’s response. “Thanks. Lia, right?”
My heart sinks. He knows her name. “Yes! You remembered from my speech. I was wondering, would you want to grab a coffee?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t today,” Wes replies. “Maybe some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says, a bit too salaciously if you ask me.
Maybe some other time.
I zip up my bag as she walks away, Wes’s words echoing in my head and filling me with an overwhelming sense of dread.
“How are we going to celebrate?” Wes asks, oblivious to my dismay. I school my expression before looking up at him, worried he’ll read the jealousy there. I shouldn’t be concerned about some girl. It’s not like Wes and I are anything more than friends. I don’t want anything more.
I can’t handle anything more.
“We shouldn’t celebrate until the class is over,” I say, following him out of the room.
“I disagree. Celebrating the small victories is important for morale.”
“Spoken like a true football play—what are you doing?” I have no time to register what’s happening before he wraps his arms around me in a hug, lifting me into the air.
“Wes!” I cry, as he spins me in circles, my feet dangling a foot off the ground.
When he sets me down, I can’t help but laugh. “What was that for?”
“Celebratory hug, of course. The Wes Special.”
I snort. “You probably shouldn’t nickname things ‘The Wes Special.’ It makes you seem a tad egotistical.”
He just grins at me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and guiding me in the direction of the door.
As we step outside into the chilly winter air, I lean into Wes’s side, grateful for his warmth.
We’ve barely made it to the end of the walkway when we spot Ben’s familiar figure strolling toward us across the quad.
He lifts his hand in a wave that Wes returns.
“Hey, guys,” he says once we’re within earshot. “How’d the speeches go?”
“He was flawless,” I tell Wes’s housemate.
Ben doesn’t look surprised. “Of course he was. Doc’s good at everything. Sports, academics, public speaking, apparently.”
“And you wonder why I have an inflated ego,” Wes murmurs to me.
“How did you do, Ivy?”
I shrug. “I stumbled through it, at least.”
Wes shakes his head, his grip tightening around me. “She’s being modest. She didn’t miss a damn beat.”
My face warms at his praise, and I duck my head, breaking eye contact with Ben.
“That’s great, Ivy. Congrats.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Ben gestures over his shoulder down the sidewalk. “I saw you guys and thought I’d ask if you wanted to come sledding. People are meeting on the hill by the engineering building.”
“Up to Ivy,” says Wes.
My head jerks toward him, only to find him looking at me with those dark, glittery eyes, an almost childlike excitement dancing behind those long lashes. “Me? Why?”
“Because. We’re celebrating how kick-ass you were, and we can’t do that if I’m in one place and you’re in another totally different place, now can we?”
I blink at him. “I guess not.”
“So? What’s the verdict?” asks Ben. “It’ll be fun.”
I hesitate. Large gatherings and snow sports don’t sound like my idea of “fun,” but Wes’s hopeful face glows at the prospect, and I can’t be the thing that dims his light.
I just can’t. “Sure. We can go, I guess. I did wear my boots.” When he rewards me with a dazzling smile, I immediately feel better about my decision. I glance at Ben. “Do you have a sled?”
“I have a trash can lid.”
“Awesome!” says Wes, like that’s preferable, and the two high-five.
I stare at them. “I think I’m already regretting this.”
I’m not as familiar with this side of campus, but the hill is impossible to miss.
Crowds of students flock to it like snowbirds, toting all forms of “sleds.” Laundry baskets, cafeteria trays, inner tubes, yoga mats.
I see everything but an actual sled in attendance, and when I notice someone carrying a rusted sheet pan, I start to appreciate the trash can lid.
Having been insulated in our own little bubble for the past few days, I almost forgot how popular Wes is. How he attracts attention from every angle, people drawn first to his stature, then captivated by his personality, looks, and uncanny ability to make everyone feel comfortable and seen.
When a group of guys surround him, spewing their usual buckets of praise and admiration, I want nothing more than to shrink into the background. But Wes’s hand settles on my lower back in a reassuring gesture, and I have no choice but to share the spotlight.
I’m not used to this many curious eyes on me, sizing me up.
Some of them linger in a way that makes me uncomfortable, while others brush me off as though I’m nothing.
I find myself leaning into the safety of Wes’s side as he chats with some people I vaguely recognize from his party, but when Rich pushes through to the front, Wes’s hand flexes against my back.
His smile fades, and he looks like he’d rather be talking to anyone else.
“Hey man, how’ve you been?” Rich asks, sticking out his hand. Wes ignores it, and eventually, Rich lets it fall to his side.
“I thought you got suspended.”
Rich doesn’t appear bothered by Wes’s cold greeting, shrugging with nonchalance and offering an easy smirk. “Nah, just a minor slap on the wrist. My dad’s on the board.” Wes doesn’t respond to that, so Rich turns to me. “Dang, still hanging with the freshman? Glad I didn’t put money on that.”
Beside me, Wes stiffens, but before he can come to my defense, Kaden appears out of nowhere and snaps, “Get the fuck out of here, Rich.”
“You smell like a liquor cabinet,” adds Ben.
Rich only laughs. “What, is the whole team passing her around? Maybe I need to get me one of the quiet ones, huh?”