I stumble into the tutor center Monday afternoon a little defeated and a whole lot undercaffeinated. In my first week at the tutor center, I had exactly two students stop by to see me. Honestly, I think those poor souls got bad information and thought I was going to look deep into a crystal ball and uncover top-secret job opportunities with a six-figure salary on a bachelor’s degree education.

I’m trying to remain positive. I know I can help people, but it’s harder than I expected it to be to spread the word about what I’m doing without making it sound hokey. The students who would be up for this type of thing are either hesitant about the benefit of chatting with a peer or simply don’t have time to add another to-do to their schedule. And though no one has said anything, I’m pretty sure people are avoiding me because of the nude photo ordeal. I’d expected laughter or more slimy come-ons, but it’s as if I don’t exist.

Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around.

Great, now I’m thinking in Tom Cruise movie quotes. Admittedly, I binged all the ones I hadn’t seen over break. It made me feel somehow closer to Wes, which makes me officially pathetic since he spent the entire break avoiding me. Sigh. And I’m now thinking my sighs aloud.

I pull open the library door and hold my head high. I can do this. It’s a brand-new week.

I frown at the line that twists around the main desk and out the door of the tutor center.

Everyone in line is tall and muscular, and each and every one of them looks underwhelmed to be here.

Tanner Shaw gives me a head nod as I study the faces of the guys in line. I know it’s wrong to be hostile for something out of his control, but I still bristle at the sight of him.

I find the start of the line at the doorstep of my tiny makeshift cubicle. Wes is holding the front with the look of a proud boy scout.

Merit badge definitely earned.

“What is this?”

“I owed you for the other night. For lots of things. I’ve given you shit about all this”—he lifts his arms—“but the other night, I guess I realized I needed it more than I knew.”

“So, you brought every jock you know for what? Creative hazing?”

He covers his mouth with a fist. “Admittedly, that’s part of it, but I do think you have some things that could help each one of them. You’re good at this. Better than I gave you credit for. I just wanted to show you I see it now. I get it, and I want to support you the same way you always supported me.”

“Thank you.” I place my backpack down beside my chair and eye the coffee cup on my desk. I pick it up and read the quote scribbled in messy penmanship. Focus. Repetition. Heart.

“Nice touch.”

He beams back at me like a proud pupil. “That’s a Coach Daniels’ special.”

A look around the tutor center reveals intrigued, if a bit annoyed, glances from the tutor stations. The commotion has disrupted any chance of concentration. “Well, looks like I have my work cut out for me. You gonna stick around and make sure they don’t sneak out?”

“Nah. I gotta do some studying.” He turns and raises his voice so the guys in line can hear him. “But I’ll stop by later and get a full report on how it went.”

I roll my eyes. “Get out of here, Reynolds.”

Surprisingly, the guys are good sports. A few of them even take it seriously. And when the last ball player walks out the door, there’s a new line that’s formed. Gotta give the jocks props for that. Where they go, others follow.

Wes shows up as the tutor center is closing for the night. The last students are packing their bags and the tutors are tidying up the room. I lean back in my chair, completely spent.

Every eye in the tutor center follows his path from door to my desk.

“Got time for one more?”

I sit forward and narrow my eyes. I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. One side of his mouth pulls into a smile. “Then how about dinner instead?”

“I, uh . . .” I trip over my tongue. What even are words? Did he just ask me on a date? “Sure. Let me just grab my things.”

Silently, Wes leads me to University Hall. We order food and then take a table in the far corner. “Brought you something,” Wes says as he slides me a small gift covered in Christmas paper. On top is a handmade origami bow made from a Chewy Spree wrapper.

Nice touch, Reynolds.

“It’s a little belated. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you that night . . .” His words hold a hint of sadness.

“I see you got mine.” I point to his gray T-shirt, and he looks down proudly at the black bold letters: Smart is the new jock.

“Open yours,” he says and winks.

I tear open the paper to find a flat, rectangular box. My throat goes dry. I’m not prepared for whatever is in this jewelry box. I pry open the top slowly and hold my breath as I reveal the bracelet inside. It’s similar to the ones Gabby and I make out of colored embroidery thread, but there are only two colors—orange and purple. My and his favorites. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I lift it and study the letter beads that twist around the braided thread. BLESS

“No way,” I say in complete disbelief. “Where did you get this?”

“I, uh, may have commissioned it?”

I lift a brow.

“Gabby,” he says, looking a little guilty.

“Gabby was in on this?” I inspect the bracelet and see her in the smooth braid, the neat knots at either end. I can’t believe she kept this a secret. “I love it. Thank you.”

“I have one other gift. Though, it isn’t from me.”

I narrow my gaze, intrigued. “Okay. Who’s it from? Did you get Vanessa to write me a poem?”

He shakes his head. “Let’s call it a gift from the university. David was expelled today.”

All the air leaves my lungs as he continues.

“The campus police received several anonymous tips leading them to him, and when he was questioned, he folded. All the evidence was on his laptop anyway.”

“He’s gone,” I whisper. I expected to feel better, but the damage is already done. I’m glad I won’t have to see him, but I guess I’d already eradicated him from my life.

“You know, if you pressed charges, he could be charged with a felony. Laws in Arizona are strict about this kind of thing.”

A nervous laugh escapes at the scary expression on his face. Wes is pissed and ready to see David pay. Me too. “I haven’t decided what to do yet. I made an appointment with a counselor for later this week and I need to tell my parents. That’s going to be hard.”

His jaw flexes before he speaks. “I’m really sorry I didn’t stop this from happening. I failed you in so many ways.”

The loyalty of this man never ceases to amaze me. “David’s crimes aren’t yours. It’s not on you. I just want to move on. I let him hold me back for too long. Whatever I decide to do, it’s going to be about me – what’s best for me. Part of me thinks I just want to be free of him, but I don’t know if I could live with myself if I don’t see this through and make sure he never has the opportunity to do this to someone else.”

“Obviously I’m a fan of the latter,” he states dryly. “But I’ll be here for you either way. Whatever you need.”

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I can only nod.

I steer the conversation to lighter topics. Between bites, we talk about classes and he tells me a little about how he’s helping at practices. It’s comfortable and easy to be with him, but there’s the slightest tension in the way we interact. We’re careful to keep our hands to ourselves, and the one time he bumps my leg under the table, I jump so high in my seat he apologizes like he’s wounded me deeply.

We’re us, but we aren’t. This isn’t Bless it’s Weir—the weird, nonsensical version of our cooler couple alter ego.

“Thank you for—” I start to speak at the same time he does.

“Listen, I—”

“You first,” we say at the same time and smile.

I open my palm toward him in a silent offering for him to go first.

“I owe you an explanation for the way I acted. After my injury, you were trying to be there for me and I wouldn’t let you. I pushed you away. I destroyed what we had.”

“You were dealing,” I say simply. I always knew the why, but his apology doesn’t fix the hurt it caused or the pain he inflicted when he removed himself from my life.

“It wasn’t just that.” He lets out a shaky breath and meets my eyes. His blue stare is melancholy and regret. “I wanted to hurt you. You pushed your way into my life, bringing your optimism and joy, and it changed me. I made room for something in my life besides ball. But then I was laying in that hospital bed, hearing your bubbly voice tell me to flip the negativity and see the positive, and I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to do anything but be angry and bitter.”

“No one expected you to see the positive in this. Least of all me.”

“I know.” He shakes his head. “It was petty and childish. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. I miss you. Fuck, I miss you. I’m just not sure who I am or what I’m doing anymore. I don’t want to be this miserable guy who is pissed at the world, not when I’m with you. You deserve better than that.”

“You’re allowed to have bad days or months. This isn’t exactly my banner year so far.” I wave my hands as I speak. “Relationships are ugly sometimes.” I shrug and inwardly cringe because I just used the word relationship when we never put a label on whatever we were before.

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. The warmth of his fingers soothes something that’s been aching without his touch. “I’m crazy about you, but I gotta be honest that I’m still going through some shit.”

“Well, I can handle your grumpiness if you can put up with my optimism and spunk.”

“Deal.”

My heart swells with that one word. Deal.

It isn’t until we’ve said goodnight that I realize I have no idea what we just agreed to. Are we in a relationship? Are we friends?

He didn’t kiss me. We said goodbye with a long hug and a promise to hang out tomorrow afternoon, but did I just agree to a friendly hang out or Netflix and chill?

I’m still wondering as I sit on his bed the following day, watching him pack for a team away game.

Joel knocks on the door and pokes his head in. “You still have that Spanish textbook from last year?”

Wes nods toward his bookshelf. “Yeah, it’s on the shelf. What’s up?”

“I told someone I’d help her. Just want to get an idea of how much they’re covering in introductory Spanish.”

“You’re tutoring someone?” Wes asks, his tone as disbelieving as the thoughts running through my head.

“Shut up,” Joel grumbles.

Wes crosses the room and pulls the book from the shelf. He stops in front of Joel and holds the book, obviously using it as bait for more information.

Joel mutters, “I guess I promised her I’d help with Spanish to get her to sleep with me. There, happy now?”

We laugh at his expense. “Dude, that’s low even for you.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t even remember saying it . . . or doing it for that matter.” He shakes his head. “She says we hung out at the baseball party last week. I was so drunk that night I crashed on Mario’s couch, so anything is possible.” Joel looks at me. “This is your fault. You told me chicks dig the Spanish.”

I hold my hands up. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t tell you to use it as a bargaining chip for sex.”

“Good luck.” Wes tosses the book at him and Joel walks backward out of the door already flipping through the pages.

I turn to Wes. “You know you guys are sitting on an untapped gold mine. Women would”—I pause and point after Joel—“and apparently already do, go to great lengths to have a hot, smart male tutor.”

“Whatever you’re suggesting, hard pass.”

“Come on, the marketing alone would be fantastic.” I wave my hand in front of my face like I’m seeing it on a billboard. “Smart Jocks: Get an A while enjoying eye candy too.”

“That’s a terrible slogan.”

“It was my first attempt. Oh! I have it! Smart Jocks: Their brains are as big as their—”

“Don’t finish that statement.” He holds a hand up. “I want to imagine the possibilities of that last word.”

I toss a pillow at him.

“How about. Smart Jocks: Figure it out your damn self. I’m busy.”

I tap my chin. “Hmmm. I dunno, I mean it certainly sounds like something you’d say, but it’s a bit grumpy.”

“I thought you agreed to put up with my grumpy ass.” He leans down and places a kiss at the corner of my mouth.

It’s the first time his lips have touched mine in a month, and my insides turn to total mush. Instead of responding, I grab his hand and tug him closer. He lets out a throaty chuckle as he brings our lips back together. The dam has broken, and our kiss becomes frantic and needy. He places two strong hands under my ass and lifts me, bringing me upright with him. I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us to the door, shuts, and locks it. Crossing back to the bed in two long steps, he drops us to the bed and settles on top of me. He breaks away to stare down at me. “You’re so beautiful. Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of looking at you or kissing you.”

He steals another kiss, as if proving his point. “You always taste like sugar . . . so damn sweet.”

He continues his worship and praise of my body, getting us undressed in record time. We’re hot and sweaty and can’t keep our hands off each other. Looks as if he didn’t listen to Joel this time. Or maybe he just hadn’t planned for this to happen.

“Gotta head out in ten.” Nathan yells and knocks from the other side as Wes tears open a condom and covers himself.

“Sadly, I’m not gonna need that long,” he says around a smile, just loud enough that I can hear.

The giggle that tickles my throat is lost when he enters me, stretching me and filling me completely. He stills, braced above me, his expression fixed in exquisite torment.

“Have to make this up to you when I get back on Saturday night.”

But there’s nothing to make up for. I’m as needy and close as he is. Each thrust threatens to push me over the edge. His breathing is labored and sweat beads on his chest. He’s holding back, delaying his pleasure to get me there. If that isn’t the most deliciously sexy thing a man could do in bed, I don’t know what is.

“I’m close,” I rasp. It isn’t a warning. It’s permission for him to let go.

Still, he waits until the orgasm takes over my body before he growls out, shuddering as he gives into his release.

He rests his forehead on mine. “Last thing I want to do is get out of this bed and get on a flight with a bunch of dudes.”

But he has to, and I watch him as he slides from the bed, disposing of the condom and dressing quickly. He tosses my jeans and shirt onto the bed before he shoves stuff into his duffel bag.

“I gotta run. Stay as long as you want. In fact, if you want to be in that same spot when I get back, I won’t complain.” He winks and drops a hurried kiss on my lips.”

“Good luck,” I call to his back.

When I hear the faint sound of the front door slamming closed, I pull Wes’s comforter around me and inhale. I’m in deep again. No, not again. My feelings never changed. I feel like I never left, but his feelings have bounced around, and I don’t want to be on the bench, waiting for more time in the game. Yep, I’m in deep. Even my thoughts have converted to basketball analogies for his sake.

I’ve done exactly what Vanessa warned me against. I’ve fallen into old habits where Wes and I spend time together without ever really discussing the depth of it. Maybe it’s positive thinking or maybe it’s just plain idiotic to hope things will work out on their own. Pushing away the negative and focusing on being happy is the only real choice because my heart is already his.