Page 16 of Golden

Just kiss a guy.

The idea had sounded ridiculous at the time, but now, it floods me with a tingling warmth and a fuck ton of nerves, because I know exactly who I want to kiss. I just have no idea how to make it happen.

WES

I can’t decide if I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving break or not. On one hand, I’m looking forward to seeing my parents and my friends from back home, but on the other, the idea of losing routine irks me. I’m a creature of habit, and I thrive on knowing that every morning I wake up and either train at the pool or the gym, then go to Halston Hall and publish The Howl.

At least I won’t have to manually publish it after break. My grin of triumph fades to confusion and disappointment as I squint at my computer screen, double checking my findings. I know who’s been posting Sasha Darryn’s diary entries. Staring at the name, I’m unable to think of a reason why they would have done something like that. But why would anyone?

My insides do an uncomfortable flip as I grab my phone and send Alex a text telling him I have news, and to get my job offer ready. That means, by the time I leave for break tomorrow, I might have the offer in writing. Swallowing hard, I try and picture telling my dad that I won’t be joining him at WebWeb. He’s not going to take it well. I lean my head back and close my eyes with a sigh, letting the effortless piano playing of Alexis Ffrench wash over me. There’s never going to be a good time to tell him. I’m almost definitely going to ruin Thanksgiving.

“Am I interrupting?”

The voice that breaks through my music has my eyes snapping open and my heart leaping into my mouth. I turn in my chair, my fingers tugging out my earbuds as I take in the sight of Sol Brooker standing beside my desk.

“Hey,” I say. “Not at all. Everything okay?”

Because I’m trying and failing to think of a reason he might be here. I haven’t seen him since the swim meet a couple of weeks ago, when he blatantly eye fucked me and ran.

Despite thoughts of Sol taking residence in my brain this year, I’m always surprised at how damn good looking he is in person. Everything about him screams ‘clean’. His perfect wrinkle-free t-shirt stretching over his sexy as hell biceps, his smooth, creamy skin, the hair that never has a strand out of place, his big pale blue eyes. It does something funny to me. I want to mess him up. I want to be the one who gets to see him disheveled. Dirty.

Ah.Great. I sit up straighter, hoping Sol doesn’t drop his gaze to my crotch, and my rapidly thickening cock that my sweatpants are doing little to hide.

“Are you busy?” he asks, glancing at my screen.

I almost go to cover it, but to the untrained eye, it’s a mass of code. “Not at all. I just finished.”

Sol pulls a chair over from another desk and sits down. I’d like to say I don’t stare at the way his jeans stretch over his athletic thighs, but I’m not that strong. My lust dissipates, however, when I meet his eye and see the nerves swirling in their bright blue depths.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I . . . erm . . .”

I fight the urge to reach out and place a comforting hand on his thigh as he pushes his fingers through his hair. It falls perfectly back into place, and I wonder how hard it would be to mess up. I want to try. Badly.

“Sorry.” Sol blows out a breath. “I need help with something, and your name was recommended to me. But it’s kind of a big ask.”

He’s so nervous it’s rubbing off on me. I frown, trying to think what help I could possibly offer Sol Brooker. I mean, I know what I’d like to offer him.Calm the hell down.I smooth my clammy palms over my sweats.

“Ask away,” I say, sounding a lot calmer than I feel. “The worst I can do is say no, right?”

Sol smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. Here’s the thing. I want to hold a fundraiser in the spring, but I know nothing about organizing events and marketing them. Although it will be for Franklin West students, my real target audience is the parents and investors.”

My eyebrows raise. That’s not what I was expecting. “A fundraiser? What for?”

He looks away and I can’t read his expression—a mixture of sadness, pride, and something else.

“My kid sister, Jacey, has cerebral palsy,” he explains. “There’s a center in Portland she visited to make friends with the same condition, but it’s severely underfunded. She’s been raising money at her high school, but it’s nowhere near enough, so she asked me to help.”

“She sounds like an awesome kid,” I say, watching as Sol inflates with pride.

“She is. I’d move mountains for her if I had to.”

My heart twinges. He’s so perfect, it’s almost too much. This is why the articles written about him always refer to him as the ‘golden boy’. He’s one step away from being a damn fairytale prince. I’m not sure what it says about me that I want to unpick him—to decode him and find his flaws. No one can be that perfect.

“What do you think?” he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I lean back and steeple my fingers together. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

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