Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
With only two weeks left in the semester, time speeds up. The days start moving too fast, and graduation looms, the monumental milestone both a sunrise and a storm cloud on the horizon.
Wes and I make up for the time apart by spending every possible second at each other’s side.
We become joined at the hip. Absolutely inseparable, sitting together for hours, talking, laughing, and preparing for finals.
I try not to think about the fact that it won’t be like this next year, but it’s difficult to ignore reality the closer we near to his graduation ceremony.
I share my feelings with Deborah, who manages to convince me that just because things are going to change, doesn’t mean they’ll have a negative impact.
But it’s hard to maintain that sort of optimism whenever I see Wes waving to someone across the quad or lighting up campus with his contagious smile and boisterous energy.
There’s no denying that Stratus won’t feel the same without him as a student.
With finals only three days away, I step out of the Counseling Center and into the main portion of the building, which houses the rest of the Student Support divisions. Looking down at my phone, I don’t see the girl until I nearly barrel straight into her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, immediately apologetic.
And then I register who it is.
I stumble back, nearly fumbling my phone as I take in Alexis Cane’s ruffled appearance. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, and her normally made-up face is make-up free. Her hair’s pulled up in a disheveled ponytail, and she’s wearing baggy sweatpants with the MHHS logo on the thigh.
It takes her a moment to register me before her face twists like she’s smelled something sour.
“Are you happy?” she snaps, her voice dripping with pure venom.
When I only stand there, staring at her with wide eyes because I have no idea what she’s talking about, her face flashes with fury.
I take a step back, genuinely afraid she might slap me, but she only shakes her head.
Angry tears well in her eyes, and she hastily swats them away.
“Fuck you, Ivy. Fuck. You. My parents are going to fight this. I’m not getting kicked out because of some fucking forum I didn’t even write. ”
“What?” I breathe, my mind reeling as I try to catch up.
She scoffs. “Oh, don’t play innocent. I know you were behind this. Fuck. You.”
And then she pushes past me, her shoulder smacking into mine.
She hurries down the hallway and out of the building, leaving me standing here, staring after her, completely stunned.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Alexis would face repercussions for her actions.
I just assumed she’d get away with her bullying the way she always does.
Still struggling to wrap my head around it, I drive to Wes’s house, eager to tell him the news. He’s already coming down the steps as I exit the car, his broad smile easing my stress.
“Were you waiting for me?” I ask as he gathers me in his arms.
“I’m always waiting for you,” he says, his dimples making an appearance.
Grinning back at him, I tilt my head up for a kiss. He obliges, kick-starting my heart, and when we break apart, he takes my bag off my shoulder and ushers me inside.
“I had the weirdest interaction just now,” I tell him, as we climb the stairs to his room.
He glances back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
I nod. “After my session, I ran into Alexis. She told me she’s getting kicked out. Someone must have reported her involvement in that forum.”
“Oh, really?” he asks, but there’s a strange, almost coy note in his tone. Confused, I study him as he sets my bag on his desk and sits on the bed, adopting a much-too-innocent expression.
“Wes,” I say slowly. “Did you have something to do with that?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe.”
My mouth drops open. “Maybe? What do you mean? What happened? How did you even prove anything?”
“Once you told me Alexis was the one who started the forum,” he says, “I was able to do some digging into her profile. She uses the same username on UChat as she does on her social, which is idiotic if you ask me. But Stratus has a zero-tolerance policy for bullying and harassment, and I had enough evidence to show the disciplinary committee. Plus, Rich finally came in handy for something. I had him put a word in with his dad who’s on the board.
It was the least he could fucking do after all the shit he’s pulled. ”
I stare at him, letting his explanation sink in. “You did all that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you,” he says seriously. “You know that, right?” I manage a nod, still in disbelief, and he gestures for me to come closer, so I’m standing between his legs. He sets his hands on my hips, squeezing lightly. “How did your appointment go today?”
“It went well,” I tell him, thinking about the chunk of time we spent discussing Wes’s graduation.
“You’re still seeing her over the summer, right?”
The reminder of the summer spikes my anxiety.
I know I want to be with him, and he wants to be with me, but the details of actually making that work seem a little daunting.
Once Wes passes his TEAS exam next week, he’ll be admitted into the EMT program over the summer.
Fifteen weeks of classes, meeting three times a week. “We’re going to do virtual sessions.”
Wes studies my face, a crease forming between his brows. “You okay?”
“Just thinking about the summer,” I admit.
He squeezes my hips again in a reassuring gesture.
“Ives, we have a plan. You can spend as much time at my parents’ house as you want, and once I’m certified, I’ll target the hospital close to campus.
We’ll make it work. Trust me, okay?” His eyes search mine.
“I don’t think I’ll survive being away from my girlfriend for too long. I get major separation anxiety.”
My stomach flutters, and my brows shoot up at the unfamiliar term. “Girlfriend?”
“Is there a different label you’d use?” Even though he asks the question with so much confidence, I glimpse the tiniest bit of doubt behind his eyes. He’s tried this approach before, and I always pushed him away.
“No, girlfriend is perfect,” I say, and a huge grin stretches across his face. “I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend before.”
“Well, the title suits you.”
I smile back at him, wide and uninhibited, and he pulls me close.
Girlfriend.
I knew we were exclusive. Official, even, but I never gave any thought to the label. Now that I have, I can’t stop grinning because there’s nothing on this planet I’d rather be than Wes Tucker’s girlfriend.
“You’re so smiley,” he says, laughing as we break apart.
“I can’t help it. You’re rubbing off on me.”
He nuzzles my nose before kissing the tip. “Okay, girlfriend.”
“Okay, boyfriend.”
We are so cute it’s nauseating, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I really wouldn’t.
That night, tucked under Wes’s covers and wrapped in his arms, he kisses me softly.
Slowly. Our tongues tangle as we explore each other, and my body presses up against his as my hands chart over the hard muscle of his chest. His hand slips under my t-shirt, palming my lower back and pressing me closer, and I feel the familiar flare of desire as the intensity heightens.
I want to keep going, but something prevents me from taking things further, and I know I’m not ready. Wes, perceptive as always, can tell immediately from the shift in my body language that I want to stop. He tucks me against his chest without protest and kisses the top of my head.
My body’s still trying to catch up to my heart, unfortunately, and I try not to feel frustrated with myself, especially when Wes has the patience of a saint. I try not to get in my head about it, but I’m the queen of overthinking, and Wes can always tell when I’m beating myself up.
“Everything okay, baby?” he murmurs into my hair.
Before, my instinct was always to apologize.
I’m sorry I’m not ready.
I’m sorry I’m not normal.
I’m sorry I’m making you wait.
This time when I open my mouth, something crazy happens.
The apology dies on my lips and evaporates into thin air.
Wes isn’t going anywhere, he’s assured me of that, despite knowing my faults, my flaws, my shadows.
He accepts me the way I am—loves me the way I am—and though it’s hard to wrap my head around, he wouldn’t be lying beside me right now if he didn’t.
The thought warms my heart, and the fist in my chest unclenches.
The guilt dissolves along with the fear of losing him.
Maybe it’s our newfound “official” status giving me confidence or the work I’m doing in therapy actually paying off, but somehow, I silence that dark, twisted voice in my head telling me I’m not enough.
I reframe my thoughts, rebalance my emotions, and give myself some grace.
It’s okay to not be ready.
I’m making strides every day, and this right here is a monumental one.
“Everything’s okay,” I tell him, and I mean it. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Ives,” he mumbles, his arms tightening around me. “More than you know.”
His words wrap around me like a blanket, and I realize something.
I can trust in Wes all I want, but if I don’t put that same faith in myself, then what’s the point?
All these months I’ve been trapped in a shame spiral, self-loathing making it impossible to put faith in us.
I need to be kind to myself. I need to forgive myself.
But most of all, I need to learn to love myself.
The good news is, I think I’m starting to.
I’m finally starting to.