“I just want to be her friend. Honest.” I lied. I wanted more. But people didn’t always get what they wanted.
The nausea came back full force, causing me to double over in pain as, I swear, knives started attacking my stomach. “Hold on, give me a second.”
“Dude.” Gabe put his hand on my back. “What’s wrong? You got the flu or something?”
“Or something,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m fine, I just get… episodes.” It was the best I could do without lying.
“Like nervous episodes?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah, like that.”
“Sorry.” He swore. “I just… that girl is important okay? Don’t ask me how or why I know she is, I just know. There’s something about her. She’s frail and I don’t want you messing with her just because she’s a hot piece of ass okay?”
“I swear…” It hurt like hell but I stood to my full height. “…that I’m not messing with her. I want to help, and I want to be her friend.”
“Friends don’t kiss.”
I forced a laugh. “You sound like her.”
Gabe didn’t join in the laughter. Great, I’d pissed him off again.
“Look.” I crossed my arms and tried to concentrate on anything but the pain in my chest and stomach. “I like that girl. I won’t hurt her. Hell, I won’t even touch her again. I’m not going to steal her virginity. I’m not going to make her promises I can’t keep.”
“How do I know I can believe you?”
“Tell you what.” I put my arm around his and opened the door. “Why don’t you just trust me, and if I do something that royally pisses you off or I screw up, you can beat the shit out of me. Deal?”
Gabe was silent and then he held out his hand. “It will be a pleasure kicking your ass.”
“Too bad you won’t get the chance.” I shook his hand just as Lisa walked through the door.
“Uh, everything okay?”
“Perfect.” Gabe’s grip tightened against mine. “We were just talking sports.”
Lisa snorted. “Fine. Can we start the movie?”
“Sure thing.” I released Gabe’s hand. He gave me a swift nod.
When we made our way back into the room, Lisa was sitting on one end of the couch and Gabe maneuvered next to her, leaving just the love seat for me and Kiersten. At least the night was going to end on a good note.
Lisa pressed play.
“Wait!” I yelled, holding up my hand. I grabbed the drinks Lisa had brought in and pulled a tiny paper umbrella from my pocket. Grinning, I dropped it onto the side of Kiersten’s drink. “A fruity drink with an umbrella.”
“You got any more of those in there?” Lisa asked.
I laughed, finally feeling more relaxed now that the date was well on its way and Kiersten knew my plan. “Sure.” With a tug I had about five different colored umbrellas set out on the coffee table. “Okay, now we can start the movie.”
“Thank you.” Kiersten’s lips grazed my ear, making me horny as hell during the opening credits. “For my best first date ever, my umbrella, my kiss, and my book. The way you’re blowing through the list we won’t have much to do in a week.”
My stomach clenched.
Hell, no.
What was I thinking?
I needed to go slower.
I shrugged and whispered back, “Well, the other tasks are a lot harder. It may take a while.”
“Fine by me.” She reached for my hand and didn’t let go.
I looked up.
Gabe was watching us intently, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her hand then back at my face. I felt stuck. I wanted to date her. In a normal situation I would have flipped him off and thrown her into my bedroom without a second thought.
But now?
I wanted to treasure the feeling of her fingertips against mine, because I was pretty sure in a few months… I wouldn’t have that luxury.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I hate how much I like him. Almost as much as I hate it when I’m not able to be with him all the time. I am falling way too hard and fast. Someone catch me, stop me, call me crazy, slap me — geez, just don’t let me get my hopes up.
Kiersten
It was officially two months since I met Wes. Ever since our first date, I’d seen him almost every day for lunch and at least twice a week for movie nights at our place.
Basically, he was everywhere. A permanent fixture in my life. So regular in fact, that people no longer stared, they just seemed to expect it.
The only thing I couldn’t put my finger on was the fact that he was losing weight. I mean, he still looked hot, but his muscles seemed more defined, his jaw even sharper than before. When I mentioned it, he just laughed off my concern and said practices were hell.
“So what chapter we on?” Wes dropped his lunch onto our regular table and took a swig of water.
I grinned. “Last one.”
“No way!” He pulled me in for a hug. “Killer job, it only took us over fifty days to finish one book.”
“You know what that means?” I bit down on my lip and moved closer to him, scraping my chair against the floor.
“What?” He leaned in and flicked part of my hair. Good Lord, the boy was obsessed with hair, or maybe it was just with red. I didn’t know which, but he was always touching it as if somehow my hair was going to fall out or disappear.
I swatted his hand away. “Just means we need another book when we finish. I’m thinking Mansfield Park or…” My voice trailed off. His face turned pale as he broke eye contact and fidgeted with his food.
“What?” He licked his lips and spread his salad around his plate like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat it or just torture it.
“We don’t have to read anymore. I mean, I know you have other friends, and it has been every lunch and—”
“Stop.” He rolled his eyes and gave me that sexy grin I was so used to. “I was just upset about Mansfield Park. I don’t really like that story. How about you pick something else and we’ll get started in on it after Thanksgiving break?”
“Okay.” I smiled when he looked at me, but it was hollow. I could feel that it didn’t reach my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” he said, almost too fast as he gave me another fake grin and cleared his throat. “Just got a lot of work to do before break, you know?”
“Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “Right, yeah, I have a lot of homework too.”
“Between that and practice…” A shadow fell over his face. “I don’t know. You know how you have rough days?”
“Yeah.” I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. “We all do. It’s good to know you’re not perfect.”
“So far from it.” He reached for my hand and kissed it. “I uh, do sort of have a favor to ask you though.”
“Okay.” I shifted in my seat, suddenly nervous that he was going to ask me to not see him again or do something crazy and start dating, which actually wouldn’t be the first time he’d suggested it. A month ago he jokingly encouraged me to go on a date. I’d slammed the door in his face, and he spent the afternoon apologizing. So right, I overreacted, but it hurt my feelings. I mean, guys weren’t that dense, were they? Couldn’t he tell I liked him? As in, a lot more than he liked me?
I clenched my hands tightly in my lap and waited for the inevitable.
“Will you spend Thanksgiving break with me and my dad?”
So not what I was expecting.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, never mind.” He reached for his tray and started to stand, but I grabbed his wrist.
“Wes, I’m not saying no, I just didn’t expect that.”
“Yeah?” His hands were shaking, either he was nervous or coming down with something. “What were you expecting?”
“Oh, you know… for you to try to set me up on another date and hurt my feelings.”
Wes laughed loudly, earning the attent
ion of people around the cafeteria. “Right. I think I learned my lesson last time, don’t you?”
I shrugged.
“Shit.” He let out a heavy sigh and grabbed my hand. “You know I like you, I just—”
“—don’t date freshman.” I cleared my throat nervously.
“And don’t want Gabe to kick my ass.”
“Please!” I rolled my eyes. “Like he could kick your ass.”
His eyes clouded over before he gave me another heart-stopping smile. “I’ll tell you what.” He leaned in. “We’ll date.”
“What?”
“For two weeks.” He grinned and held up two fingers. “For two weeks you’re mine. We’ll date, we’ll hold hands — more than we do now.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles as he searched my eyes. “And at the end of two weeks, you’ll realize I’m not as cool as you think I am, and move on to greener pastures.”
I felt my eyes narrow. “Is there a catch?”
“Of course.” He laughed and tightened his grip on my hand as he leaned in. “You have to come home with me for the first week. That’s Thanksgiving break, and then…” He stood, pushing his chair away from the table and got down on both knees. “And then you have to promise to be my date for Homecoming.”
My mouth dropped open.
Was Weston Michels — football god — celebrity — holy hunk of hotness — on his knees in front of me asking me, not only to meet his dad, but to go to Homecoming?
“Kind of uncomfortable down here.”
I laughed and helped him to his feet throwing my arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Wait, is that a yes?” Wes swung me around the room and then did something so out of character I almost missed it.
He kissed me as if we really were dating.
He hadn’t touched me since the first date we went on.
His lips brushed mine briefly and then harder as he set me on my feet and wrapped his arms around my waist. With little effort, he lifted me onto the table and cupped my face. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I said breathlessly.
“Saying yes.” He was totally serious. His face had that same shadow as before.
I touched his smooth jaw with my fingertips. “You really are having a rough day, aren’t you?”
He clenched his teeth and gave a jerky nod.
Without thinking I slid my arms around his neck and held him as tight as I could. “I think the star quarterback is allowed to have rough days, as long as…” I let my voice trail off.
“As long as what?” he said, taking the bait and pulling back so our lips were really close again.
“As long as he promises to always share them with that nerdy freshman he keeps hanging out with.”
“Not nerdy.” He kissed my mouth. “Beautiful.” And kissed me again. “Sexy.” And again. “Gorgeous hair—”
“What is it with you and hair?” I laughed against his neck as he interlaced his fingers with mine.
“It’s precious.” He shrugged helping me off the table. “That’s all.”
“Hair and hearts,” I murmured. “Weird obsessions, but okay. I’ll allow you some quirkiness on behalf of your hotness factor.”
“How very gracious of you.” He chuckled, kissing my hand. “Now let’s eat before you go to your next class. And then packing. I’ve got a freshman to take home for the week.”
Yeah, I was probably never going to lose the smile on my face. Ever.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Yeah, Gabe was going to murder me in my sleep.
Weston
I checked my phone. An hour had gone by. I’d figured Gabe would have stopped by my room already to yell or throw things or punch me in the face.
I expected him to at least send me a nasty text message about not keeping my promise.
A knock sounded on my door. Smiling, I opened it expecting to see a large fist flying towards my jaw. Instead it was David and James.
Ugh. I’d rather be punched.
“How is your day progressing?” James asked sounding oh–so-mechanical and ridiculous.
“Fantastic. I’ve got a date for Homecoming.” I sat on my bed and glared.
“Do you normally have trouble getting dates?” David laughed.
“No.” I scowled. “This girl’s special.”
James shifted on his feet. “Not to bring up a sore subject—”
“Then don’t bring it up,” I snapped.
“—But,” James continued. “Do you think it’s a smart move to get a girl involved in your life at this point? You’ve refused to take any tests until the day of your surgery. You have no idea what is going on in your body, and you want to involve someone as innocent as that girl?”
“Look—” I swear my teeth were gnashing together. “It’s not your business. So stay out of it.”
“It is my business.” James tilted his head. “I’m your shrink. Your father hired me to look after your well being.”
“My father hired you because he doesn’t want me to lose my shit and commit suicide like my brother. You aren’t my surgeon, and you sure as hell aren’t my friend. I’ll do what I want — with or without your permission.”
David heaved a sigh. “Wes—”
“Do you need anything else?” I interrupted.
With a curse, David pulled out his notebook. “I just need to document how you’re feeling today. You know the drill. You get the drugs that cost a fortune and haven’t been tested by the FDA yet, and we have to write it down. I don’t do this to torture you. I’m not your doctor, I am your friend, and I’ve been your bodyguard since you threw your first football, so for the love of God, just tell me how you feel.”
I felt guilty as hell. David was right. He’d been there through it all. It was the only way I could even stand having James around. David was family to me, and I was treating him like shit.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice hoarse with too much emotion. I let out a sigh and began talking about my symptoms. “I’m losing feeling in my right leg. I’m not sure if it’s because I keep getting tackled or if it’s the medicine. I throw up almost every morning, my chest doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and the nightmares have started to slowly go away. I’m not feeling depressed, just anxious, like God has this giant ass timer in his hands and is just waiting to hit end.”
“Very good.” James cleared his throat and pressed stop on his recorder. Hadn’t known he was recording but whatever.
David reached across the space between us and touched my arm. “Thank you, Wes. We’ll leave you to your packing. You sure you still want to drive yourself?”
“Yup.” I grinned, remembering Kiersten and her excitement. “I’m bringing my girlfriend.”
James sighed heavily, but David grinned and said, “Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
They left the room and I was emotionally ready to throw a bat at anything that talked to me.
“Hey, those goons bothering you?” Gabe said launching himself into my room just as David and James left.
“Always.” I groaned. “So please, punch me, get it over with.”
Gabe looked guilty.
Oh no.
“Are you sick?” He asked in a quiet voice.
“How much did you hear?” I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t, if I did, I’d probably lose it and then just want to punch myself for crying like a baby.
“I know one’s a shrink and the other says you’re on some sort of drugs that make you sick, and then I heard something about surgery.”
A few seconds went by. Hell, I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t want anyone to know, because I wanted to feel normal if it was my last autumn on this earth.
“Yeah, man.” I bit down on my lip, still refusing to make eye contact. “I’m sick.”
“How sick?” Gabe sat in the chair by my desk. I could see his feet tapping against the floor whether it was in nervous
ness or just awkwardness I couldn’t tell because I was still being a pansy and staring at the floor.
“Really sick.” My voice broke. Damn it.
“Are you going to get better?”
I laughed without humor and finally lifted my gaze to meet his. “I have no idea. I find out in four weeks.”
“What happens in four weeks?”
“Nosy bastard, aren’t you?”
He grinned and gave me a haphazard shrug.
I sighed and shook my head. “Surgery, and if it doesn’t work, or if I die during it, yeah, well… it’s curtains I guess on either end.”
“So it’s going to be fine then? You’ll be fine?”
“Define ‘fine’?” I laughed, the sound harsh in my quiet room. “If dying is fine, then yeah, I’ll be fine. If living for a few more months while my body gets slowly stolen away from me by unhealthy cells, then yup. Fine, fine, fine, so damn, fine.” I wiped my face with my hands and groaned.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” Gabe asked.
“Hell, no.”
“Don’t tell her.”
“What?” My head snapped up. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It will only freak her out, especially since you’re going to be fine, right?” He gave me a confident smile. “You can beat it.”
It was the first time someone had said that to me.
Everyone else had been so concerned. David about the symptoms, my dad about depression, nobody — not even the doctor — had told me I was strong enough to take it.
I nodded jerkily, trying not to cry like a baby and said, “You’re right. I will beat it.”
“Or I’ll beat you.” Gabe laughed. “For not only breaking her heart but dying after Homecoming. I mean, seriously? Even you have to admit how messed up that is.”
“Yeah, well.” I kicked off my shoes and lay down on the bed. “I like her. I want to spend time with her and time isn’t something I really have. It’s a luxury you know? People don’t realize how lucky they are. Do you even realize how much it pisses me off when people complain about silly things like their lunch being crappy or their coffee tasting bad? I would drink shitty coffee and eat rotten food for the rest of my life if I could just have a life. You know?”
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