Page 17 of Golden

“Anything you can give me,” he says.

My eyebrows shoot up, the corners of my mouth twitching, and he flushes red to the tips of his ears.Fuck, that’s cute.

“I mean.” He clears his throat. “I need to put a proposal together to take to Dean Mason, and I haven’t got the first clue where to start. I spoke to Jaime, and she suggested I ask you.”

“Did she now?”

Jaime Smith is one of Sasha Darryn’s best friends. She’s a media and communications major the same as me, but she’s managed to get an internship at a news station in Portland, so Professor Brierley is letting her use that as credit this year because it’s taking up so much time. There are others in our class Jaime could have recommended, but I know exactly why she suggested me.

I’ll let Sol sweat a little, but I love this kind of thing. Jaime and I worked together on a project last year that was really similar—planning a launch event for a hypothetical company—and we aced it. This would be a piece of cake. I could theoretically use a lot of the plan from that project, so it wouldn’t even take up that much of my time.

“Wes?”

I blink, realizing I’ve been frowning, lost in thought as Sol waits for my response. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“And?”

He looks so nervous and hopeful; I wouldn’t have been able to say no if I tried. He’s like a freakin’ puppy with those big blue eyes.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll help you.”

The smile that lights up Sol’s face is breathtaking. The kind of thing you want to take a picture of so you can remember it forever. The idea that I’m the one who made him smile like that has my insides warming, and all I can think about is how to keep it there.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “Let me know how much I owe you for your time and we can work something out.”

His words take me by surprise. So much so, I don’t refute them. I wasn’t expecting to be paid. I don’t need to be paid. It’s for charity for fucksake. Before I can say as much, however, he’s moved on.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?

I blink at the sudden change in direction. “Excuse me?”

“The Thanksgiving blowout at the Den,” he explains. “Tonight?”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I’m heading home pretty early tomorrow.”

He grins. “Everyone is, that’s why we have the party.”

“So we can all endanger our lives driving under the influence?”

Sol laughs. “You don’t have to get wasted. Say you’ll come. Just for a little bit?”

I’m quickly beginning to realize I can’t say no to Sol Brooker. “Sure. I’ll swing by.”

He smiles again and it’s totally worth going to a party I have zero interest in attending. Well, not zero interest. One very large interest is sitting right across from me.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he says, rising to his feet. “And thanks again.”

He’s wheeled his chair back to the desk and turned to go by the time common sense kicks back in. “You should probably give me your number.”

Sol pauses, his lips parted in question, but I keep talking.

“For the fundraiser,” I explain. “When I get back from Thanksgiving, we can set up a meeting and sort out the details.”

He digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before handing it to me. “Put your number in.”

His wallpaper is a picture of him and a teenage girl, I assume must be his sister. She’s older than I thought. They have the same blue eyes, but her hair is dark blonde to his light brown. I quickly add my number and hand it back.

“Thanks again,” he says as he backs away. “I really appreciate you helping me.”

---