Page 55 of Golden

“I need to go,” Wes murmurs against my lips. “I have class in fifteen minutes.”

“How long does it take you to get there?”

Wes pulls back, his glasses a little steamed. “I don’t know. I’ve never timed myself.”

Gripping his face, I lean forward and nip at his plump lower lip. “I think you can do it in under ten.”

A small moan rumbles in his chest, and he takes my hand, pressing it against his crotch. “Yeah, but I need to get rid of this first.”

My breath hitches and I palm his hard length, but he moves away, getting to his feet. “Seriously, we don’t have time.”

“Fine.” I drop my head back against the wall with a groan.

Wes leans over me, dropping a kiss to my lips. “I have study group tomorrow, but soon?”

“Sure.” I sigh. “Soon.”

Wes laughs as he starts packing up his laptop and I grab my coat. We don’t speak again until we’re out on the path and I almost go to lean in and kiss him goodbye, stopping myself just in time. I’m not sure whether Wes notices, but he lifts a hand in a wave and heads toward Halston Hall acting for all the world like his lips aren’t still swollen from my kisses.

I stand, watching him walk across campus, until the cold grows so intense, I start shivering. Maybe I need to apply the same strategy to whatever’s going on between me and Wes to life post-graduation. Ignore the details and hope it works out. Not that I’m even sure what things would look like if they worked out. What I do know, is I don’t want this to lose this.

Shoving my hands in my pockets and jogging back in the direction of the Den, Zak’s words echo in my head. He’s still wrong. I won’t get hurt. Because you can’t lose something you never had.

WES

I’m completely lost in my ‘BEATstrumentals’ playlist, my toe tapping and my focus wholly on the final proofs for tomorrow’s edition of The Howl, when a hand lands on my shoulders.

It happens so frequently that other than a leap of my internal organs, I don’t startle. When I do look up, however, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Sol standing there. Smiling up at him, I pull out my earbuds and turn around properly.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” It takes a great deal of restraint not to reach for him and pull him toward me, so I fold my arms across my chest instead, drinking in his pale jeans and navy padded jacket, his cheeks still pink from the cold.

Sol holds up a paper bag and two coffees from Grinds. “I thought maybe you’d forget to eat, so I brought you lunch.”

We’ve texted a little since our far too brief kiss in my room, but I’m so out of practice when it comes to including someone else in my life, I’ve found it hard to suggest a time and place to see each other again.

He places a coffee down on the desk and hands me the bag. I reach in, quickly discovering it’s got one only container of pasta salad and an apple in it. “Where’s yours?”

Sol’s skin flushes a little as he shrugs. “I didn’t know if you’d be here or if you’d want me to stay, so I already ate.”

I stare up at him, unsure what to make of that precaution. “What are you going to do now, then? Sit and watch me eat, or leave?”

Sol shakes his head with a laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, it seems stupid.”

My hand twitches, almost reaching out to cup the back of his leg and draw him closer, but I stop myself just in time. This is why the sensible part of my brain told me not to get involved. Sol says he’s not closeted, but he might as well be. Keeping quiet while he figures out his sexuality is his right, but it’s frustrating as hell when all I want to do is touch him. He’s been thoughtful as hell bringing me lunch and I can’t show him my appreciation any more than I would a classmate. My jaw clenches as annoyance seeps through my veins.

“Do you want me to stay and hang out for a bit?” he asks, glancing around the lab.

It’s quiet, as it always is on a Friday, with me and a couple of others spread out amongst the computers. I point at a chair opposite and pull the pasta salad out of the bag.

Sol takes the invitation, crossing an ankle over his knee as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Any swim meets this weekend?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Or next week. But then we have one pretty much every weekend until the end of the season.”

Sol nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’m trying to make the most of my weekends before lacrosse season starts up. Coach keeps things pretty intense, and from the game schedule he shared with me, I don’t think we have a single weekend without a game.”

I wince around a mouthful of pasta. Perhaps there’s a plus side to having an ex-frat boy as a coach. I’m sure Coach McMann could get us competing every weekend, but I get the feeling he enjoys his free time way too much. Rumors follow him everywhere and, although I don’t think Coach has actually slept with a student, I can’t believe there’s that much smoke without fire.

“That’s intense,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “It’s like that every year?”

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