by Piper Lawson
“Mom!” Beck bellows. Then he stalks over to his place setting, the untouched meal sitting there, and stabs a potato. He shoves it into his mouth, still standing.
We watch him chew and swallow as if it’s a movie.
“I have some news,” Beck announces once he drops his fork. “I’ve auditioned for a summer program at NYU.”
“You did what?” my mother asks.
“I auditioned. I’ve been taking improv classes. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
My father’s face reddens as he straightens in his seat. “You were going to intern at a company this summer.”
“If I don’t get this, I will.”
That shuts up my dad.
“But I’m going to try this. I can take care of myself.”
My eyebrows are probably at my hairline right now, and my mother’s jaw is on the table.
I have to give Beck props. Or I would if I wasn’t so distracted by the news about Wes leaving. How did that happen? Did he get something else?
“You will not go to performing arts school while you’re under this roof,” my father says.
“Then I’ll leave.”
“Terry.” This is from my mother. “You will not send our son away.”
My father curses under his breath. “They get this from you,” he mutters, stabbing a finger at my mom. He shoves up from his chair and leaves the dinner table.
Beck turns on his heel and stalks toward his room. I hear his door slam.
Even though I’m itching to go after Beck and find out what he knows, I stay where I am. I lift the napkin from my lap, fold it on the table.
My mother twirls the stem of her wine glass, staring past me.
I get up, lifting my plate, and pause to kiss my mom on the head as I take it to the kitchen.
Then I start toward Beck’s room but the light from my father’s office catches my eye.
I change directions, going there.
“Did you send Wes away?” I ask when I pull up in the doorway.
My father pauses before looking up from his computer, his expression more tired than defensive. “He wasn’t meant for this place.”
“Who says you get to decide?”
“I’m the chair of the board.”
“And if Wes was doing anything other than a great job with those students, it would be within your rights to fire him. But he wasn’t. I know because it’s impossible for Wes to be anything but good at what he does.” My fists clench at my sides. “He didn’t get the job in Seattle.”
I walk out the door without waiting for his reaction.
29
Wes
“This only works if you do, Wesley. If you’re not even trying, let’s change it up.”
Jakes calls out another number, and I throw my weight behind the punches.
My phone rings on the bench next to where we’re sparring. I glance at the number.
Jake jerks off a mitt and answers. “Dr. Wesley Robinson, shell of his former self.”
I glare at him as I work off my gloves, then I hold out my hand. “Beck. This a question about preparing for your final exam?” I slump against the wall, wiping at sweat on my forehead.
“I heard you’re leaving next semester.”
He cuts right to the point.
“I’m pursuing my academic career, Beck.”
“That’s a load of bullshit. And before you tell me it’s none of my business, do you give your cell phone number to all your students? Or just the ones whose sisters you’re dating?”
I curse. In the four weeks since I lost the UW interview, I’ve tried to not think about Rena. Or anything, actually.
“I don’t know what your deal is, but you guys should figure it out. She’s upset, and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault. I see her once a week at dinner, and she looks like a ghost. Of course, she’d never say anything. But that’s why I’m telling you.” My heart constricts because I fucking hate the sound of that. “I also wanted to let you know that I got into the summer acting intensive I auditioned for.”
“Congratulations.” I get a drink of water, gulping it down. “You tell your dad?”
“I told him I auditioned. He was pissed.”
I’m the smallest bit pleased Terry’s upset, but I’m supposed to be the grown-up here. “He’ll get over it.”
Something between a groan and a sigh comes over the line. “What if he doesn’t?”
There’s uncertainty in his voice. “Life doesn’t always turn out how we expect.” I turn back to see Jake working the speed bag, but half his attention’s on me. “You have to… roll with the punches.”
Jake freezes, shaking his head. “Really?” he mouths, and I turn away.
“Why are you leaving?”
My eyes fall closed. I could tell him it’s because of his father, but that’s not it. Not really.
“This isn’t what I trained for. I enjoy spending time with you. All of you. But it’s not what I planned.”
“Maybe you need to roll with the punches,” he tosses back. “You think it doesn’t matter who teaches us at Baden? It matters. We matter, and you matter too.” His voice is fierce, and guilt stabs me.
For a kid who wants to be onstage, he has a future as a boxer because I’m officially flat on my back.
When I hang up, Jake’s looking at his own phone.
“Now who’s neglecting their workout?” I toss.
“Ben’s asking me why I didn’t let him know about something called ‘Modern Love.’” His gaze lifts to mine. “And why you didn’t when you talked to him last month.”
“What are you talking about?”
I cross to him, and he pulls up a page on his phone.
It’s my app. And it’s not. I read the description.
You’re tired of meeting people who don’t do it for you. You want to find a meaningful relationship, and you’re frustrated with investing your time, energy, and trusting your heart to things that don’t work.
Guess what?
Modern Love is more than skin deep.
It’s about finding someone you click with—literally.
Opposites attract, and it’s not just a song.
It’s true on every level.
I scan the rest of the text, hearing Rena’s voice in my head with every word.
“When did you do all this?” Jake asks, sounding impressed.
“I didn’t.”
He lowers the phone.
I remember her words from the last time we spent together. I’ve replayed them over and over in my mind.
“We’ll figure it out. Together.”
I drop onto the bench, rubbing my hands over my sweaty face.
What I’ve seen in the past four months has shown me that you can’t force things to be a certain way. Not everything turns out how you plan.
Maybe that’s okay.
I can’t control my life, but I can control what I do.
What work I do.
Where I live…
Whom I love.
When I look up, there’s new energy surging through me.
“I need your help,” I tell Jake.
“How many carats?”
“Christ, I’m not proposing.”
“Engagement rings aren’t the only diamonds,” he says as though I’m naive and in need of an education.
“You don’t even know what happened between us. Jewelry doesn’t fix everything,” I say, exasperated.
“Bullshit,” he says dryly. “In my professional opinion, jewelry fixes everything.”
30
Rena
“This place turned out amazingly!” Kendall gushes.
“Did you go through the experiential part?” I ask.
“Yes. The three phases of sound, words, and touch. It’s incredible. Mia’s thrilled, and Daisy’s going to love it.”
I look around us at the ballroom. It’s all white, with little touches of glitter. “I was afraid it’d look like a toilet paper commercial.�
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“Rena.” I turn to see a familiar form. “Where’s the whisky?”
“No whisky. Sparkling water only. This is about consciousness and experience. You were supposed to wear natural fibers.” I gesture to my own dress, then look pointedly at Jake’s suit.
“It’s wool,” he points out. “Let’s refocus. There’s no alcohol.”
“Correct.”
“I invite you to my parties,” he grumbles. “What kind of hospitality is this?”
I put my hands on my hips, unperturbed. “Where’s your scarf?”
Kendall holds up hers.
“How’d you dodge getting one?” I demand before getting one and wrapping it around his neck.
“I can’t believe you got cashmere scarfs for the launch party.”
“We’d normally spend that much on Patrón. This is more on-brand. It’s about heightened awareness and comfort. Besides”—I round on Jake as he pulls off the scarf and holds it out to me—“lots of other guys are wearing them.”
“Be that as it may.”
Resigned, I take it from his fingertips before he drops it. “Maybe your plus-one wants it.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” He turns on his heel to greet someone.
“Hey, Jake?” I call before he can leave. “Have you seen Wes lately?”
“Yes. But I’m too old to be a matchmaker.”
I lift my chin. “If I wanted to get him back, don’t you think I’d just show up at his apartment wearing leather and lace?”
He shoots me an amused look. “No, I don’t. This is Wesley we’re talking about. And we both know him better than that.”
He walks away, and I’m left thinking about that.
I miss the hell out of Wes. Maybe I notice it more because I’ve turned down every guy who’s asked me out in the past six weeks.
But I can’t even think of going out with someone. It’s like my heart’s duct-taped to the floor and there’s no chance of it being freed anytime soon.
A familiar face comes up to me. It takes me a second to recognize Brad, the Crotchmaster client who dropped me.
“Rena, I’m surprised to see you here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “My colleague Kendall and I organized the entire thing.”
He recovers quickly. “Listen, I might have overreacted before, letting you go from our campaign. I’d love to hear your ideas.”
“That’s big of you to admit.”
“So, you’ll meet with us?”
“My client roster is actually full at the moment, but I can add you to our waiting list. Enjoy the party.”
His jaw goes slack, and it takes him a moment to turn away, scratching at his neck.
Kendall’s cracking up at my side. “I didn’t expect it to be this entertaining.” Her laughter fades. “Come on, that must’ve felt good.”
“A little,” I admit.
“We need to go out. We’ll get you to bounce back yet. Have you heard of geocaching? People bury things, and you follow the coordinates online to find it. They can be underground, in trees, tucked into walls...”
“Let me get this straight—you’re going in, hands first, in public places, after things strangers have left for other strangers?” I wrinkle my nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”
Kendall’s face shifts from excited to surprised as she looks past me.
I swear I feel him before I see him.
I turn and Wes’s tall shape fills my vision, drowns out the rest of the room. He’s in faded denim with a sweater I want to rub my face all over.
But he could be wearing a scuba suit for all I care, because he’s here. As I soak in the sight of his broad shoulders, his good posture, that straight jaw and firm mouth, I didn’t realize until this moment how much it hurt not to be in the same space as him.
“Nice scarf.” My voice is rough at the edges.
“Thanks. It came with the party.” His blue eyes work over mine, and I let out a shaky breath.
Who knew his voice could affect me so much? It’s like hearing the most beautiful sound you thought you’d never hear again.
“Hey Wes. What do you think of geocaching?” Kendall asks, innocent.
Wes’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Isn’t that where you dig up things strangers left in public places? No thanks.”
He takes a step closer, and his clean scent floods my senses. I think my heart explodes. “What are you doing here?”
“Jake had a plus-one. In fairness, I happened to be there when the invitation came in. Otherwise, he probably would’ve brought someone.”
Another step.
“Funny thing. Ben reached out with a renewed interest in Modern Love. Which, apparently, is the name of my DNA dating app. It got radically more sophisticated in the last few weeks.”
I can’t stop the flush at his praise. I know it’s better, but hearing the words from his lips affects me. “I promised to help. I had to see it through.”
I wonder if that’s the wrong thing to say because his brows draw together under the fall of hair I’m desperate to brush away.
“Well, your timing was impeccable. I was considering shutting down the program. For some reason, the idea of helping people fall in love wasn’t appealing to me.” His smile is wry. “But Ben expressed renewed interest in the app, and I agreed to partner with him to develop it further.”
“It sounds like things are looking up for you,” I say carefully.
“In some areas,” he agrees. “But not all.”
“No?” I fold my arms over my chest, trying not to read into his cryptic words.
Wes’s gaze searches my face. “I need to confess something.”
“Is it that you murdered someone and buried them under the building?” I can’t resist saying. “Because I’m not sure I can take that kind of candor.”
His blue eyes sparkle. “No. It’s a compliment. I wanted to warn you because it’s big.
“You’re the kindest, most challenging, breathtaking, fun person I’ve ever met.”
My breath catches, and there can’t possibly be more but Wes’s mouth keeps moving.
“You’re smart, and sophisticated, and hilarious, and unbelievably sexy.
“And I have something for you.”
He pulls out an envelope from his pocket and holds it between us. It’s off-white, unmarked, and so slim there can’t be more than a single sheet of paper inside it.
“What is it?”
“You wanted to know if we matched. The answer’s in here.”
I take the envelope from him, hold it up to the light, my breath catching.
“You want to open it? It’s yours,” he says.
I turn it over in my hands, then hold it back out to him, shaking my head. “No. Do you?”
He considers. “I know this app has helped a lot of people, and I hope it’ll help a lot more. But I don’t need an algorithm—even one I designed—to tell me I should love you.
“I know I’m in love with you. And I don’t give a fuck what science thinks of it.”
Wes loves me.
My chest expands until I must be bumping into the people closest to me because suddenly I’m taking up more space in this already-crowded room.
“For real?”
He nods. “I knew it before I got back from Seattle. But after what happened with my work, I lost myself. I was so obsessed with what I thought I wanted I lost sight of what I needed.”
He steps closer, but instead of reaching for my face, he tugs on my ponytail.
I swallow the laugh. “Most guys like it down.”
“Fuck most guys.” His unflinching response has me grinning. “I’ve always had a thing for this. And for you.”
His mouth brushes mine, and I’m a pool of neediness on the floor.
“You’re that easy?”
“We’re that easy.”
Then he’s kissing me, and nothing else matters.
Epilogue
Wes
* * *<
br />
Three months later
* * *
“The topic is…”
I’m drumming my fingers on the arm of the auditorium chair as I strain to hear the announcer. Beck’s next to me, holding his breath.
“‘Does school teach you what you need to succeed in life?’”
Beck and I look at each other. Then he signs, I’ve got this.
“Go get ‘em,” I say to him and the other students, then I take my seat again as they take the stage.
“There you are! Why are you at the back?” Rena asks, appearing at my shoulder.
“Better view,” I mumble.
“No, you can’t watch from any closer,” she realizes.
I shrug. “If they win, they go to state. It’s kind of a big deal.”
Her fingers thread through mine, and I look at her.
When I met her, I thought she was pretty.
I was so fucking wrong.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her eyes shine, her hair’s pulled back, and her lips are that red that makes me hard without fail.
Good thing the auditorium’s dark and we’re at the back of it.
“All faculty are required to be involved in extracurriculars,” I remind her, partly to keep my brain from sidetracking to the things she does with that mouth. “Since I’m back on the faculty, it was this or basketball.”
“True.”
It’s February, and I’ve been back at Baden, teaching science for six weeks since the winter break. Rena’s dad didn’t help, but in an initiative spearheaded by Beck, several students wrote in to the administration about how much they wanted me back.
“Sorry I’m late,” she adds. “Just doing some things for Haley’s wedding.”
“Everything good?”
She nods. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Will you be my date?”
“I’m not big on weddings. I don’t get the crying, and then I look like the insensitive asshole who doesn’t cry, but sure.”
She shoots me a look. “You’re so cute.”
Rena and I watch the debate, and I’m on the edge of my seat. I pump my fist when Beck makes a great analogy. I go to kiss her, and she lets me but pulls back at the last minute.