Chapter 5
September
The trees on campus are slowly beginning to change color, and the air has a crispness in it today that has me sucking in a
long breath, welcoming autumn. I meet Annica and Dani for coffee at our usual spot, the Bean. It’s a quaint, family-owned
coffee shop where the walls are lined with bookshelves and the furniture is all thrifted. The best part about it is seeing
Annica’s face flinch every time she sits on one of the used couches. “We have no idea where these have been,” she sometimes
says.
“What are you guys up to this weekend?” I ask when we’re settled into our corner spot by the big bay window. Three weeks into
the semester and we’ve decided to start coming here on Friday mornings to catch up on schoolwork together.
“I have to go back home to Connecticut for my little sister’s dance competition tomorrow,” Dani says. “My stepdad is picking
me up today around three.”
I open my laptop to look over my rough outline, which is due in four days. “Ugh, I do not envy you; those drag on forever.”
It’s uncanny how alike my and Dani’s backgrounds are.
When we talk about our childhoods, we’re convinced we had the same one.
Divorced parents, younger sisters, and moms that are essentially the same person.
Annica can never relate. She’s an only child who has never heard the word no from her happily married mom and dad.
“Well, I have a date tonight with Collin, but I’m not doing anything Saturday,” Annica says. Collin, the hockey boy from the
beginning of the semester, has been taking up most of Annica’s time. I’m almost surprised to hear that she’s available Saturday.
“What about you, Sloane?” Dani asks me.
“I have no idea, maybe writing?” As if the universe heard me trying to stay on track, my phone buzzes with a text.
It’s been weeks. Are we doing this or not?
Sent from a no-name phone number, but I know it’s Asher. I’ve refused to taint my contact list and save his number for the
past three years and I won’t start now.
Don’t be dramatic, it’s only been two weeks. And I don’t know.
I’ve thought about Asher’s offer, and I just don’t know if I can do it. Even standing next to Asher feels wrong in the presence
of Wes. Which is crazy considering he has a whole girlfriend. Asher starts to type but then it disappears. Ten minutes later
I get another text.
Come to Euros tonight for Power Hour.
It’s just the guys, Marissa won’t be there.
If it's just supposed to be the guys then why would I go?
Wait, you’re a girl?
You’re a dick.
I guess I’ll finish the outline tomorrow.
I leave on the same jeans from earlier and put on a tight black long-sleeve. I grab my bag, ready to leave, when Ade comes
out of her room.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
I slip my Converses on, holding on to the frame of the door. “Oh, um, just to Power Hour at Euros.”
“What is that?”
“It’s like a happy hour, but mostly guys go to it. I think it’s just one-dollar beer for an hour and they, like, blast dad
rock music in there. Honestly, I don’t really know, I’ve never been.” I wait for a moment, not sure if she’ll say something
else.
“Can I come with you?” she asks.
I blink, not sure if I heard correctly. “You want to go? To the dollar-beer-and-dad-rock hour?”
“Yeah, why not. We haven’t been out together in so long.
It’ll be fun and I can be ready in like five minutes!
” She goes into her room to start digging through her closet and I wait awkwardly by the door.
She comes back out in exactly five minutes, in jeans and a white tank top, with a cream-colored sweater unbuttoned down the middle.
The light colors make her skin tone look even more rich, and I just know the boys will have a field day with her.
We walk into Euros right at 8 p.m., and it’s already packed with just about every guy on campus. Adrienne walks up to the
bar as I see the group. I tell her to meet me over there before walking away.
“Hey, guys!” I say as I approach.
Sam, Jake, and Wes sit at a high-top table while Asher and Charlie play at the pool table beside them. The place smells like
a mix of weed and flavored vape smoke. My eyes sting slightly when I blink.
“Sloane? Didn’t think we’d see you here,” Jake says.
“I’m surprised you can see anything at all,” I say, waving the smoke away from my face. Adrienne walks over beside me, holding
a bucket full of beer. I look down at it and ask, “Who is that for?”
“Us! Duh.” She sets it on the table and the guys look at her wide-eyed. “Good to see you guys again, though I don’t remember
any of your names,” she says to them.
Sam stands first and puts out his hand, which is shocking for the otherwise shy one of the group. “Sam,” he says. “Nice to
meet you again.”
The others go around saying names, and I tell her that Asher and Charlie are the ones at the pool table. Adrienne’s eyes linger
on Charlie, with his tall frame and athletic build, and I don’t blame her. He played basketball here until he tore his ACL
sophomore year, but he still trains as if he’s on the team. I don’t bother telling her he’s off-limits because, frankly, I
don’t think Dani would even bat an eye if another girl swooped in and snagged him. Though maybe that’s exactly what she needs
in order to commit.
I grab a beer from the bucket, even though I don’t like the stuff, and Sam pulls up chairs for us at their table.
I take the seat next to Wes. He gave me a nod when I walked over but he’s been careful not to look my way since.
The sleeves of his blue-and-white flannel are rolled up and I have to look away from the veins that pop out of his arms, leading down to his hands.
Being this close to him makes me want to jump out of my skin.
I want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and say, Just want me back, Wes! I just want you to want me back!
Sam and Jake are in silent competition to win over Adrienne, so I turn toward Wes. The swivel of the barstool makes it so
my knees now touch his jeans, but he doesn’t move them away.
“How is your semester so far?” I ask, desperate to speak to him, to hear his voice.
“It’s tough, but it’ll be fine. I feel like I live in the business building. How’s yours?”
“Good,” I say, thinking of what Asher said about me not being Wesley’s mom’s first choice. “Actually, it’s great. I even have
an internship possibly lined up for the summer.” I don’t, but I feel like it makes me sound like I have my shit together.
“Wow, good for you, Sloane.” His eyes look me over and with a small smirk, he says, “I like your hair tonight.” He holds my
stare before taking a drink and it makes my insides flutter, because clearly, I’m not the only one still thinking about that
night. Anyone else hearing that seemingly innocent compliment wouldn’t know the implication, but I do.
“I heard it makes the boys crazy,” I say back, and it was flirty of me, it was. But god, I can’t help it.
He runs a hand through his hair as he looks away, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “You heard that, did you?” His voice now slightly husky.
I prop my head on my hand, tilting it slightly so that the blond pieces fall over my shoulder. “Yeah, but I can’t remember
where now. Hm. Who was it that told me that?” I pretend to think about it.
He sighs, and my gaze drifts over the curve of his jaw, down to the muscles of his neck. I want to commit every detail of
him to memory, so I’ll never forget.
“You’re going to get me into trouble, Sloane.” He leans in a little when he says it, and if I wasn’t already sitting down,
I would need to. I open my mouth to speak when I hear the most irritating, grating voice behind us.
“You guys want to play?” It’s Asher, with two pool sticks in his hand, holding them out to us. I want to kick him for the
interruption.
“Yes,” Wes says as he stands. “I’m going to grab another beer first. You guys need anything?”
I grit my teeth and grab one of the cues from Asher, looking over to our beer bucket, but Adrienne, Sam, and Jake have already
polished it off.
“I guess I do,” I say. “But if you could get me a—”
“Vodka soda with a lime?” Wes finishes for me. I smile and nod. Behind him, Asher rolls his eyes.
We walk to the table as Charlie finishes reracking, and I ask if I can be the one to break it. I lean over the table, setting
up the shot, when Asher grabs the cue stick from me.
“No,” he says, facing away from Charlie. “You can’t act like you’re good at this.”
“But I am good,” I say. “My stepdad taught me.”
“Well, tonight you’re going to be bad at it. Botch the break and ask Wes to show you how to do it.”
“And manipulate him? I told you I don’t know if I want to do that.”
“Just a few seconds ago you looked like you would do just about anything,” he says with a knowing smirk. I sneer at him as
Wes walks back over. “All right, Sawyer and Wes against me and Charlie,” Asher says. “And Sloane wants to break the rack,
so”—he gestures to the table—“have at it.”
I walk to the middle of the table and get into position to hit the ball, but I consider Asher’s tactic. I misalign the cue
in my hands and strike, completely missing it.
With a sigh I stand. “I totally suck at this.” I don’t bother to look at Asher, who is laughing under his breath.
“Well, she’s your teammate, Wes, you help her,” Asher says, playing into our game. It seems to work as Wesley sets down his
beer, and I feel a wash of shame over it. He walks over, positioning himself behind me to help me line up the shot, and it’s
like lightning when we touch, zapping away the guilt. I suck in a breath, and that’s when we hear Jake say, “Marissa, hey!”
Wes backs away from me and I let out the breath I was holding, like a deflating balloon. “Asher, you show her. I’ll be right
back.”
Asher walks over to me and blows out a breath. “Tough luck, kid.” I roll my eyes and go to line up the shot again. “Ah, ah,
ah,” Asher says. “Wait until he gets back.”
Marissa walks over to the pool table with Wes. Her heeled boots and full face of makeup make me feel underdressed even though
we’re at a dive bar.
“Okay, here, let me show you.” Asher starts to move behind me.
“No, I’m good, I just remembered how to do it.” I smile.
“No.” He smiles back. “You didn’t.” He nods over at the two of them standing there. Marissa places a light kiss to Wesley’s
mouth, and I want to snap the cue stick in half. “Go back into the stance,” he says.
I do, leaning down, pretending to be sloppy about it. I flinch at Asher’s touch when he comes behind me and places his hands
on my arms. He slowly slides his hands down to my hands and leans over me, pressing his body flush to mine. I pretend he’s
Wes. Especially when one of his hands moves to my waist.
“Now line up your body with the shot,” he says into my ear. The hand on my waist slides up my stomach as he moves me over
slightly. His fingers graze my bare skin as my shirt rises with the movement.
“Can you not?” I say, regarding the hand that’s moving dangerously up my torso.
“I don’t want to touch you either. Now shut up and flex your fingers.”
I do it, and he positions the cue between them, drawing my dominant hand back toward the end of it, taking his sweet time.
“I think she gets it, Asher, just hit the fucking ball,” Wesley’s voice rings out from across the table.
I glance up to find him standing arms crossed and facing away from Marissa now, watching us. Asher huffs a laugh close to
my ear at Wesley’s annoyance before putting his hand over mine and breaking the rack. The force of it sends out a loud crack
as the balls scatter around the table.
We both stand straight now, and I hold the cue stick vertical, the end of it resting on the ground.
“Nice break,” Asher says with a pat to my ass.
I let the cue slide in between his legs before pushing the top end of it down toward the table.
It comes up quick and hits him in the balls, not too hard, but hard enough.
He lets out a pained humph and gives me a glare.
“Thanks for showing me,” I say sweetly. “I think I got it now.” I drag the cue stick to another part of the table to line
up my next shot.
Adrienne and I leave after that game and head back to our apartment.
When we’re in the back of the Uber she says, “What’s up with that blond kid? Are you seeing him?”
“Who?” I ask, staring down at my phone, thinking maybe Wes will text. Like if I stare at the screen long enough, I’ll get
a message telling me to come over.
“The one showing you how to play pool, which I know you already know how to do.”
“Oh, Asher, no,” I say. “He’s not even a friend, more of a nuisance really.”
“Oh, my bad, from where I was standing it just looked like you two were together.”
That’s the plan, I think to myself.
My phone buzzes from an incoming message and I hold my breath. But it isn’t Wesley; it’s my friend Ty.
Party tomorrow night at Phi Delt.
Let me know if you can make it! XOXO