I throw the rake against the ground, sweeping it toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Wesley watching me, grinning, as he tears off a wooden board from one of the windows. I look away, refusing to pay attention to him, but I continue to feel his eyes bore into my back.
Shaking my hair loose from its hairband, I gather it together again and secure it more tightly against my scalp. Then I really get to work, sweeping the rake back and forth in quick strokes. Behind me I hear Wesley tossing boards into a pile on the ground. Hearing the little noises he’s making as he works prompts me to go faster.
Before long, I have half the front yard bagged up into two trash bags. I lug them both over my shoulder, then toss them onto the front porch. Wesley rounds the corner, a pile of boards in his hand. One brow shoots up as he sees all the work I’ve done. He’s impressed, but he doesn’t say anything. In fact, it almost looks like he’s picking up his pace too.
I go at the second half of the front yard with a vengeance, determined to finish before he does. I spare a moment to look around for him. All the windows are uncovered, the pile of boards next to my trash bags on the porch. Rattling and stomping noises come from above, drawing my gaze up.
Wesley is standing on the roof. He picks up a tree branch and throws it off.
“Aren’t you afraid of falling?” I shout to him.
“What?” He leans over the edge, holding a hand by his ear.
I swallow, feeling my pulse quicken. “Be careful!” I say, shouting louder this time. At first I’m not sure he hears me, but then he holds his hands up and sways precariously.
I tighten my grip on the handle of the rake. “That’s not funny, Wesley!”
“Oh no,” he lilts. “I’ve lost my balance. Are you going to catch me?”
I’m going to punch him in the damn face. That’s what I’m going to do. Just as soon as he gets back down here. “Fine, you idiot. Break every bone in your body. See how much I care.” I go back to raking the lawn, hoping by ignoring him that he’ll stop playing around.
He laughs, and I stiffen at the sound. I almost wish the dumbass would lose his balance.
By the time I’m done with the second half of the yard, I’m sweating. My shirt sticks to my skin uncomfortably, but when I look around, I feel a sense of pride. It looks ten times better than it did when I first walked outside.
Wesley is already done with the windows and roof by the time I’m finished. I frown because for some reason, this is beginning to feel like a competition—which he’s clearly winning. When I see him run out of the garage with a broom, furiously sweeping the driveway, I know it’s a competition. Hurrying, I go inside the house for a sponge and some gloves, determined to clean the fountain before he finishes with the drive.
I pick apart the vines entangled around the fountain, tossing them onto the part of the cement Wesley just swept. He looks over his shoulder at me, glaring. I let out a small laugh, unable to help myself. We’re both out of breath from trying to outdo each other, probably looking ridiculous in the process.
“Here, let me help you out with that.”
I turn just in time to get doused in the face with a stream of water. Wesley steers the garden hose toward the fountain, shaking with laughter. “Oops. I missed.”
The sponge in my hands drops to ground. Sputtering, I wipe the water from my face, ready to strangle him. Literally. I’m going to wrap my hands around his neck and strangle the guy to death. I stomp over there, intent on doing just that, but in my moment of anger I somehow forget that Wesley is bigger and stronger than me. Before I can even reach for his neck, his arm is around my waist, and he swoops me over his shoulder.
I grunt, startled by how easy that was for him. “Put me down.”
All that does is make him laugh.
“Why are you messing with me today?” I ask him.
“Maybe I like messing with you.”
“Well, dammit. It’s not fair. I can’t—” An idea occurs to me. “Are you ticklish?”
“What kind of question is that?” He bends as I tickle his side. “Dahlia, stop before I drop you!”
But it’s too late. I land flat on my back. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath. Wesley’s mouth opens when he realizes what he’s done, but the apologies I’m expecting don’t rush out. The shock wears off, and he presses his lips together, trying to keep from laughing. “You okay?”
I’m two seconds from cursing him out, especially because he thinks this is funny, but then I stop and close my eyes. A slow smile works its way to my mouth, and I begin to laugh too. “I hate you,” I moan, feeling my body ache all over.
I open my eyes to find him shaking his head at me. “Second time I’ve witnessed you fall on your ass and end up laughing at yourself.”
“I’m allowed to,” I protest. “You, on the other hand, are supposed to be a gentleman and offer to help me up.”
“No one ever said I was a gentleman.” Despite that comment, he reaches for my arm and helps me off the ground. I dust myself off, and Wesley removes a twig from my hair. His close proximity immediately pulls me back to last night. I stop thinking about the yard, his nearness being the only thing I can focus on.
“Dahlia.” His dark blue eyes search mine. We stand there, just staring at each other, and I’m not sure how much time passes. I absorb every last detail of Wesley’s face, taking in his hardened jawline, his straight nose, and the way his eyes seem to remind me of the night sky, reflecting billions of stars entrenched in an endless blue. I could stare into them forever and never get enough of it.
This feeling is starting to scare me. I’ve seen it in movies, read it in books, but I think a part of me always thought it was bullshit—exaggerated fluff meant for entertainment. Nothing so incredible could possibly be real.
But here it is.
Something inside this moment tells me I can never turn back. Whatever is happening here, it’s too powerful to ignore.
My gaze is only ripped away at the sound of a car horn honking. A red pickup truck pulls up the driveway, a blonde head hanging out the driver’s window. The truck comes to a stop, and Tyson jumps out of it. I glance over at Wesley, seeing his confusion. I’m guessing Tyson wasn’t expected.
“Hey man, come help me with this keg!”
Wesley runs a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he mutters.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“We’re supposed to throw a party tonight. Here.” He drags his hand down from the top of his head and over his face, groaning.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I forgot about it,” he admits, turning to face me. “And I planned on taking you out.”
I feel my cheeks flush, remembering what he said about how there should be a date before sex. I’m not sure if he planned that for tonight too, but it doesn’t escape my attention. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “We can go out another time.”
Tyson lets down the bed of his truck. “Are you gonna help me out, bro? Or are you just gonna stand there talking to your hot roommate all day?” He winks at me, and I smile back.
Wesley ignores Tyson and keeps his eyes on me. “I feel like canceling the whole fucking thing.”
“No, don’t do that,” I say, gesturing to Tyson. “Your friend seems really excited.”
He stares at me, looking tormented. I believe he would cancel this party to go out on a date with me, and there’s something really nice about knowing that.
“Will you come?” he asks expectantly.
“I kinda live here, silly. So yeah. I’ll come.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do know what he means. In the past whenever Wesley threw a party, I stayed hidden away inside my bedroom. Or I’d go to the movies with Gwen to get out of the house. That’s the way Wesley and I have always worked. We gravitate away from each other. We’re good at it too. It’s almost second nature.
Our worlds have shifted, throwing everything
off balance. Now it feels like there’s a giant magnet hidden inside his body, drawing me closer and closer.
I let out a sigh. “You really want me to come?”
“I don’t care if you show up wearing a burlap bag,” he says with intensity. “I want you to be there, Dahlia.”
The way he’s looking at me, the pleading lilt to his tone—it’s too much. I can’t say no. “Okay then.” I smile. “I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
WESLEY
When Dahlia said she’d come to the party, she seemed to mean it. I need her to be here, to somehow prove we’ve evolved from the people we used to be and the distance we kept from one another.
People file in through the door, rapidly filling up the front rooms, but as each minute passes, I keep looking toward the stairs, hoping to see a chestnut-colored head making its way through the crowd.
An hour into the party, I start to get agitated. She still hasn’t shown up yet. It’s enough to make me want to go up to her room and drag her ass down here. But I know I won’t. She needs to make that decision on her own. She needs to want to be here.
“You look antsy.” I turn around to find Charlotte Hart behind me. “Beer?”
“No, thanks.”
She stands there, holding out the plastic cup until I finally take it from her and chug some back. “Thanks, Hart.”
“No problem. Care to tell me why you keep looking at the stairs?”
Frowning, I wipe the foamy beer residue from my mouth with the back of my hand. She’s watching me closely, a knowing look behind her clear blue eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re nosy?”
“All the time.” She shrugs indifferently. “There’s a reason I chose Journalism as my major.”
“Because you’re good at interfering in other people’s business?”
A little smile quirks her mouth. “Because I’m observant. Quit dancing around the question, Wes. Who are you looking for?”
“Why don’t you take a guess, little miss reporter?”
Tyson chooses that moment to blast music from the sound system. I see him in the corner of the room, tampering with the volume.
Charlotte raises her voice so I can hear her. “My bet is on your roommate. Where is she anyway? Thought you said you invited her.”
“I did.” I shrug as if I don’t care. “Guess she didn’t want to accept the invitation.”
Charlotte studies me for a few seconds, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I can see why people like her so much. When she gives you her attention, she gives you her full attention. Most people appreciate that kind of thing. But right now I wish she’d go find someone else to focus her observant nature on. It’s more invasive than I can handle.
“Wow. I think I see what’s going on here.” Her brows raise, and she continues to stare at me, almost in disbelief. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but Dahlia must’ve done a number on you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“That lost puppy dog look on your face. It’s identical to the one I had in seventh grade when I couldn’t figure out whether Miles liked me or not.”
“Where is your boyfriend anyway?” I ask her. “Shouldn’t you be bothering him instead of me?”
She waves her hand toward the other side of the room. “Somewhere getting wasted probably. He gets like that when his team doesn’t play well.”
“Maybe you should go comfort him.”
She ignores my suggestion. “You know, it takes a lot to shock me. But you and Dahlia—I have to admit I’m a little shocked. I don’t get it.” She sips at her beer. “You must’ve done a number on her as well.”
“If that were true, don’t you think she’d be here right now?”
“Maybe. But just because she isn’t—” Beer sputters from Charlotte’s lips. “Oh my God.”
Her outburst seems to come out of nowhere. Then she nods toward the stairs, and I glance behind me to see what she’s looking at.
I stop breathing for a few seconds. An almost unrecognizable version of Dahlia is walking down the steps. She’s wearing an emerald dress that outlines every curve of her body, her hair left down, framing her face in loose waves. The way she looks takes my breath away. I knew she was beautiful, but I didn’t know she could look like this.
When Dahlia sees me and Charlotte, she smiles and heads toward us. Charlotte grabs my wrist and squeezes it excitedly. “Whatever you did, thank you. You brought my friend back.”
“What do you mean brought her back?”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like she’s been in hiding. You brought her out of it.”
Hiding?
I never considered that before, but Charlotte makes a good point. Dahlia does go to great lengths to stay invisible. There are never any good reasons why people want to stay hidden.
“Dahlia Reynolds, I have three words for you,” Charlotte says as she approaches. “Drop Dead. Gorgeous.”
Dahlia fidgets with her bracelet, obviously unused to hearing those kinds of compliments. “Thanks, Char.”
“You look amazing,” I say, and she looks up at me. “But you can’t look like that.”
“Why not?”
“Yeah, Wes, why the hell not?” Charlotte adds, placing one hand on her hip.
I keep my eyes trained on Dahlia. “Because I’ll have to beat the guys off of you with a stick.”
“Oh God,” Charlotte groans.
One corner of Dahlia’s mouth pulls up into a grin. “Since when are you the jealous type?”
Good fucking question. When have I ever been jealous over a girl? I think about it for a second. “This is the first time.”
“Well I didn’t do this for any of them,” she says, leaning toward me. “I was trying to impress you.”
My entire body stiffens. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why?”
I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “Because it makes me want to haul you upstairs and forget about this party.”
Her eyes widen for a brief moment, and then her face breaks into a grin. “I’m not so sure I would have a problem with that.”
I’m two seconds away from saying to hell with it and throwing her over my shoulder. If I didn’t want to do things right with her, I wouldn’t hesitate.
Before I can make up my mind, Charlotte steps in and links her arm through Dahlia’s, preventing me from acting out on my impulse. “Come on, I’m tired of watching you and Wes drool over each other. You guys live together. Do it on your own time.” She steers Dahlia away. As she’s leaving she looks over her shoulder and winks at me. “You can have her back later. I promise.”
They disappear into the crowd, leaving me standing there, half-dazed. Someone brushes my arm, moving to my side. I look over to see Christine there, but she’s not paying me any attention. She’s looking in the direction Charlotte and Dahlia left in.
“Hey, Wes,” she says. “Who is that girl, the one you were just talking to?”
“Which one?”
Inherently I know she’s not referring to Charlotte. Everyone on campus knows who Charlotte Hart is. She’s a semi-celebrity in her own right.
“The brunette in the green dress.”
“Her name is Dahlia Reynolds.” I turn to face her. “She’s my roommate. Why do you wanna know?”
“She just looks familiar, that’s all.” She looks up at me, smiling. “So how have you been? I was disappointed when you didn’t visit me the other night.”
Most girls would pretend not to care or not to notice. But most girls aren’t Christine, and she says whatever she feels.
“Yeah, um about that…” I scratch my jaw, trying to think of something to say that won’t offend her. “I just had a lot on my mind that night.”
“I was right, wasn’t I? It was about a girl.”
“Yeah,” I answer honestly, my eyes involuntarily looking in the direction Dahlia left in. “I guess you were.”
She lowers h
er eyes, sighing dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart, Kent.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I say, chuckling. And we both know it’s true. In the two years since her boyfriend died, Christine has hooked up with plenty of guys without getting attached to any of them.
“My ego is deflated though,” she laments.
“If it’s any consolation, there are a ton of guys here who will be happy you’re available.”
That makes her smile. “Yes, but none of them are you. There’s something different about you…” She reaches for the collar of my shirt, running her fingers down the center of my chest. “I bet you’re the type that doesn’t know the meaning of ordinary.”
I catch her hand before she reaches my lower stomach and gently push it away from me. She smiles innocently, shrugging. “Oh well. Maybe I’ll catch you between girls. You never stay with any of them for very long.”
“This one’s different.”
“It’s that serious, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s that serious.” As I’m saying the words, I hear the truth ringing in them. Whatever this thing is with Dahlia, I want it to be more than a fling. We’ve skipped most of the commitment steps anyway. Like moving in together.
“Well you’ll have to introduce her to me. Is she here?”
I look sideways at her, wondering why she wants to know.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, Wes. I just wanna meet the girl who inspired you enough to settle down.”
I rub the back of my neck. Part of me wants to keep Dahlia all to myself, at least for a little while. I don’t want other people spoiling the newness of it. Right now, what we have is between us, and somehow that makes it more special. Then again, there’s another part of me that wants tell the whole world. To let everyone know she’s mine.
“Lucky for me, Charlotte’s pretty popular.” Dahlia circles around me, smiling, and surprising me. “I snuck away while she was caught up in conversation…” She stops when she notices Christine standing there, who is currently staring her down like a hawk.
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