Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
“Why do you look like you’re in a funk?” Quinn drops her textbook on the library table and slips into the chair across from me.
“I’m not,” I lie.
“Well, you’re frowning so hard your face might freeze that way.” I just shrug, not in the mood to get into it. “What are you and the big guy doing tonight?”
I tap my nails against the tabletop in what some may call a slightly manic gesture. “Why do you assume we have plans?”
She blinks at me. “Um, because you two always have plans.”
Not for the last four days, I want to say, but I don’t think I could get the words out right if I tried. Instead, I shrug again, incapable of having that conversation.
Four. Days.
It might not seem like much, but it’s the longest Wes and I have gone without hanging out in weeks.
We texted a little on Sunday and Monday, but when he asked me to get together Monday night, I just couldn’t.
I shot him down, and though he was his normal, bubbly self in response, I could tell he was hurt. I could tell I was hurting him.
I was planning on talking to him after class yesterday, but Markham sent out a last-minute cancellation, so I never got the chance. And now…now I’ve been sitting here pretending to work when in reality I’ve just been staring at my phone for hours and beating myself up inside.
Because what am I doing? Why am I pushing him away like this?
Because it’s too much. It’s all too fucking much. You know it is.
I don’t want to believe it, but the more I think through the last week or so, the more confused I become.
I try to sort through my thoughts and emotions, but I can’t find the words to express what I need to say.
I can’t figure out how to explain myself to Wes without it all coming back to the root of it.
The fear that I’m not ready. The fear that my past will prevent me from ever being ready, even though he’s once in a lifetime.
And that’s why I’m sitting in the library alone. That’s why my poor, pathetic heart is experiencing life-threatening withdrawals. It’s barely stuttering out beats, so used to thriving on Wes’s avid affection.
Let’s be honest, though. I have no one to blame but myself.
“Okay,” Quinn says, drawing out the word. “Well, Remy and I are going to Late Night Ice at The Pavilion tonight. You should come. You look like you need to get out for a bit, no offense.”
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of spending time in a cold, crowded ice rink. “I don’t know how to skate.”
She snorts. “You think I do? My coordination level is zero. I got kicked out of ballet as a child, that’s how awkward I am.” When I don’t respond, she juts out her bottom lip. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll be a third wheel,” I protest.
“I promise to hold your hand as much as I hold Remy’s. Or I can tell Remy to invite Ray. Then we’ll be an even foursome.”
I groan at the idea. “Please don’t.”
Quinn sighs. “Why don’t you just invite the big shot?”
I trace patterns in the wood. “I’m maybe…kind of…avoiding him.”
Her brows shoot up, and she leans across the table, lowering her voice even though there’s no one within hearing distance. “Why?” she asks. “Did he do something?”
I shake my head at the ridiculous thought. “He did nothing. He is perfect. He is Wes Tucker, the greatest male specimen to ever walk planet earth. It’s me who’s fucked up.”
Her frown deepens, and for a moment she says nothing, studying me with concern. “Okay, now you’re really coming out with us. This negative energy is potent, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
Not leaving me much room to protest, we work for the next couple hours before heading back to the apartment. I haven’t been to an ice rink since middle school, but I remember enough to dress in layers. Then Remy drives us to The Pavilion, where we wait in the long line to show our student IDs.
Huddling in my coat, I scan the surrounding crowd, relieved when I don’t recognize anyone. The last thing I need is to run into Alexis and her friends when I’m already at a low point.
Quinn nudges me with her shoulder. “Hey, this will be fun, okay? Forget about him.”
“I’ll try,” I tell her, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, we make it inside and head to the counter to rent our skates. The place is already packed, music blasting through the speakers and lights pulsing around the rink. Who knew Late Night Ice was such a popular event?
“Remy grabbed us a bench,” Quinn tells me, snagging my arm and steering me toward the empty bleacher along the side of the rink.
Following her lead, I sit down to slip off my sneakers, all the while watching the group of skaters circling the ice.
Most people seem to be struggling to stay upright, let alone move forward, and my nerves ease a little.
At least I won’t make a total fool of myself.
There are a few people, probably hockey players or figure skaters, who move effortlessly over the ice, skating circles around the other students.
My eyes catch on one in particular, and I nearly fall off the bench.
Even from the opposite side of the rink I recognize that imposing stature, that dark head of hair, those bright, shining eyes.
Cold seeps into my bones as I watch Wes do a few more laps. When he steps off the ice, he’s instantly swarmed by a group of girls, and discomfort squirms low in my gut.
Is he here with someone else?
Averting my eyes, I start tugging on the heavy skates. They’re bulky and uncomfortable, the laces too tight and the toes too stiff, and I wonder how I’m going to manage not to twist my ankle in these death traps.
Quinn taps my arm. “Hey, I think Wes is over there.” I follow her hand as she points across the arena to see that he’s still chatting with a bunch of people I don’t recognize, and my heart constricts.
“Oh,” I mumble. “Yeah.”
“Did you know he was gonna be here?”
I shake my head. “I had no idea.”
“Guess you guys are on the same wavelength,” she says with a lot more optimism than I currently feel. “Could be a sign from fate. Just saying.”
I shoot her a dry look. “Or it could be that half the school is here tonight.”
“I like my idea better.”
I stare back down at the skates, tuning out whatever’s going on across the rink, and focus on tying the laces.
Once the right skate is under control, I move on to the left.
I’ve just tied the knot when my neck prickles like someone’s watching me, and I lift my head to find Wes staring at me with a bewildered expression.
I avert my gaze back down, my face warming as I recall my behavior the past few days.
He should talk to other girls. He should go to events with different people. He deserves it. Just because we’ve spent so much time together doesn’t mean he owes me anyth—
“Hey, Poison Ivy,” comes that familiar voice, and before I have a chance to register his presence, he drops down beside me with a grin that gives no indication I’ve been distant with him. If anything, his eyes are too kind, his face too genuine, and I feel even worse. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, um, hi.” I swallow, and my eyes drop down to the floor, finding it difficult to meet his gaze. Black skates. Dark jeans. Gray sweatshirt. I work my way back up the way I used to. “Quinn invited me. What are you doing here?”
“I came with Kaden and Ben.”
“Oh,” I mumble, and even though I’m relieved he’s not here with a date, a rush of hurt floods through me. He didn’t invite me to come.
You didn’t invite him either.
He gives my shoulder a playful nudge. “I’m glad to see you.”
My brows pull together. “You are?”
He nods, a smile playing at his mouth. “Mhm. I missed you the last few days. Life is lonely when you’re not joined at my hip. I don’t think I like it much.”
I blink at him, having difficulty processing his words. “You’ve missed me?”
He dips his head closer, his eyes piercing mine with a look so unwavering that I momentarily forget how to breathe. Despite the music and the crowd and the lights, the world shrinks down to just the two of us, and we might as well be the only people in this rink. “Oh yeah,” he murmurs. “Big time.”
“I missed you, too,” I admit, still holding his gaze. “I’ve been trying to…” I trail off, trying to decide how best to describe the mixed emotions I’ve been feeling. The internal issues I’ve been having difficulty dealing with. “I’ve been trying to work through some things.”
I immediately wince at how vague that sounds, but Wes nods as though he understands because that’s just Wes. Patient. Understanding. Empathetic. “Look, Ives. I know I can come on strong. I was worried introducing you to my parents was too much for you, so I’ve been trying to give you space.”
I blink. He’s been trying to give me space?
"It wasn’t too much for me.”
His brow quirks, and I know he sees right through me. “No?”
My shoulders droop. “Okay, it was maybe a little much, but I really did like them.”
“They really liked you.”
“I’m just glad you’re not here with some—” I stop myself from saying some other girl, saying instead, “—one else.”
“Well, technically I’m on a hot date with my housemates, but that’s not what you mean, is it?
” I shrug, afraid to answer his question.
Afraid my tone will give me away. He studies my face, brow creasing as he reads the words I’m too chicken to say.
The words I worry I don’t have a right to utter.
“And that would upset you?” he prompts. “If I was here with someone else?”
“Of course it would,” I blurt, the words rushing out before I can stop them.
His eyes turn a little bit sad, and the shift in his emotion is like a knife to my heart. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure.”
I look down at my knees, feeling guilty now for making him question my feelings for him. “I’m sorry, Wes. I’m so sorry.”
“Ivy,” he says softly, and I peek up at him. “It’s okay. We’re both figuring this out as we go along, and that’s fine. No one’s at fault here.”