Goddess Rising (36 page)

Vin smirked. “Next five bags.”

Wes didn’t have any plans to score more pot for the guy than he already had. Didn’t want to chance it, but he could probably stretch out what he had to make Vin happy.

“Four, and that’s my final offer,” Wes replied.

“Deal.” Vin stood, rubbing his hands together. “When can I get it?”

Wes picked up a bottle of Coke and slid it toward him. The baggie was stuffed inside. Impossible to see or detect beneath the Coca-Cola. “Why don’t you swing by Monday? I’ll be working the bar, and I’ll have some questions about how your weekend went.”

Vin swiped the bottle off the counter with a grin. “You got it, man. If this shit’s as good as I hope it is, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about the training exercises.”

*

September—Same Night, A Few Hours Later

Wes and Chris’s Apartment, Texas A&M

W E S L E Y

Hours later, Wes
pushed open the door to the apartment, surprised to see Chris still up, his feet on the coffee table as he played Final Fantasy VII on their PlayStation. He’d finished his shift at midnight, lucky not to have to close the bar tonight.

He’d normally have stayed to have an after-work drink, but he wanted to get some more work done on the articles now that he was going to have to rejig things a bit without his first-hand perspective. Wes would have to tell Purcell what was going on sooner than later. Figured he’d rather have a good Plan B in place by the time that conversation rolled around.

“What are you still doing up?” Wes asked as he dropped his keys on the table. “Don’t you have practice in the morning?”

“I was up waiting for you, butthead,” Chris replied, eyes on the video game as he concentrated on trying to kill off Sephiroth onscreen.

“You want a beer?” Wes asked, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of Shiner Bock.

“Nah,” Chris answered, pausing the game.

Wes shrugged, popping open the top and taking a long pull.

“I kissed Sam tonight.”

Wes coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting the beer out across the room. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he fought not to see red. “You—
what?”

Chris put the controller down. “I kissed her,” he repeated. “Wanted to see what it would be like.”

Wes swallowed hard. He wanted to launch himself across the room and punch the living daylights out of Chris for kissing Sam. But he couldn’t. She wasn’t his. And Chris was one of his closest friends. He had no right. Wes took a deep breath, staring down at the counter.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice low as he struggled to maintain control.

“Because it was like kissing a relative.”

Wes’s head shot up as he met Chris’s eyes.

“I wish I could tell you it was the hottest hook-up of my life, but really, it was just—let’s just say it became really clear to me it wasn’t ever going to work out between us. Even without you in the picture,” Chris admitted, crossing his hands behind his head as he leaned back on their sofa.

Relief wasn’t the word for the emotion that washed over him with that disclosure. Wes realized in that instant how much the prospect of getting together with Sam behind Chris’s back had been weighing on his mind. He’d never told Chris about taking her home, about the near sex on her table. He’d never said anything about pushing her up against the wall at Dukes that night a few weeks ago, when all he’d wanted to do was wonderfully bad things with her, his drunk-ass best friend be damned.

“You don’t need my blessing, obviously,” Chris continued. “Sam’s her own girl. Always will be. But I wanted you to know from me—there’s nothing there but friendship between us. But if you hurt her, swear to God, Wes, I will break your bones.”

Wes was across the room, swiping up his keys before Chris even finished his sentence.

“Where you going?” Chris called out as Wes opened up their door.

“You know where,” he replied, heading for his bike.

September—A Few Minutes Later

Sam’s Apartment, Texas A&M

S A M A N T H A

S
am lay in
bed, long after she and Chris had finished dinner and their study session. She normally slept like a baby, gifted the with the ability to sleep almost anywhere, anytime, but Sam had already been lying there for a couple hours, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what Chris had said to her. He’d called her naïve, which made her bristle, but he’d also made her question why she felt the need to hold onto her plans so tightly, like there was safety in the grasping—in being so rigidly buttoned up all the time.

In the quiet, cool calm of her bedroom, Sam realized there was far more to it than that. Truth was, she was just really scared, and she hated admitting that—
especially
to herself. Sam was scared of how a guy like Wes made her feel. Largely because she suspected that she’d just scratched the surface of the emotions that he could pull out of her without even really trying. Sam was scared of letting go with him, at the risk of finding out he may be unreliable, or even worse, disappointing. And perhaps most of all, she was afraid of being vulnerable—an emotion she’d struggled with since she was a child.

The very idea of putting herself out there, only to be left hanging, was stiflingly scary. Sam had been managing on her own for so long, she had a hard time imagining it was even possible to really and truly rely on someone else. And wasn’t that intimacy really? Beyond the passion and sex, wasn’t it really about opening up to someone so completely that you trusted them to take care of the most tender and vulnerable parts of you?

Sam touched her heart, felt the solid throb under her fingertips as she frowned into the darkness.

What bothered her more than admitting she was afraid was giving into the fear she felt—allowing the self-doubt and recrimination to guide her decisions, thereby controlling her. Sam had bucked what she’d perceived as unjust authority all her life. She made a point of not backing down, especially when met with obstacles and prejudice, and yet here she was, cutting herself off at the knees because she couldn’t be certain of the outcome with the only guy she’d ever met who’d made her really
feel
something.

She felt her heart slow fractionally as she breathed in deeply.

Chris had it right. Being near Wes was like touching a live wire. An altogether different side of her came alive—a side she didn’t know existed and didn’t fully understand. But if she was honest with herself, it was a side she wasn’t entirely ready to dismiss either—

Sam was startled upright with a knock at her door. She swung her bare legs out of bed when she heard the knock again.
Who the hell would be knocking on her door this late?
Wearing only her t-shirt and sleep shorts, she approached the front door cautiously.

“Who is it?” she called out, still a few feet away.

“Wes.”

Speak of the devil
—Sam blinked. “It’s late, Wes. What do you want?”

“Open the door, Sammy,” he replied, his voice low and intimate through the door.

She shifted on one foot, then the other, chewing her lip while she tried to decide if she was reckless enough to let him in.

“You know you want to,” he murmured, fingers tapping lightly against the wood.

Sam took a quick breath, her heart skittering crazily. She touched the lock.

Now or never
…

*

September—Same Time

Sam’s Apartment, Texas A&M

W E S L E Y

Samantha stood in
front of him, wearing nothing but a tissue of a t-shirt and scanty shorts that could have doubled for swimsuit bottoms, her hair soft and loose, black as ravens’ feathers. She looked phenomenal, and Wes bit back a sound of appreciation.

“Why are you here in the middle of the night, Wes?” she asked softly, stepping back even as he leaned forward.

“May I come in?” he asked, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it if he pushed his way in.

“Not if this is some sort of booty call,” she answered, chin coming up.

“You’re not a booty call kind of girl, Samantha.”

She opened the door wider. “Then what kind of girl am I, Wes?” she asked, allowing him to come in before she closed the door behind him.

“You’re the kind of girl guys dream about all their lives,” he answered honestly, rounding to face her in the darkness of her living room.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” she replied, trying to sound flippant, even as she crossed her arms shyly, covering herself up a little.

“I say that to
none
of the girls,” Wes corrected succinctly. “You’re the
only
one on my mind these days. I’m actually a little worried about myself,” he admitted, pushing his hands through his hair. “Never been obsessed before.”

“I’m a little worried about myself too,” she confessed after a moment in the cool dark of her living room. “Would you like to sit down?” she offered.

Wes followed her as she sat down on her sofa. Sam tucked her legs underneath her as he took a place across from her. She picked up a pillow and squeezed it to her middle like it would provide her some kind of protection. That made him smile a little. No pillow could protect her from the things he wanted to do with her.

“Why are you here, Wes?”

“Chris told me what happened tonight,” he told her.

Sam’s brows rose. Wes watched her try to work out what that meant without actually asking.

“I know you two aren’t really dating,” he clarified. “He told me that wasn’t what it was like between the two of you.”

“We like each other,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Just nothing more than that.”

“You might not be able to tell right now, but my relief is palpable,” Wes answered, leaning toward her, his elbows on his knees. “And I came over to tell you I never should have come on to you earlier—not like that. Not like you were some hussy I was trying to sneak around with behind my best friend’s back.”

Sam’s cheeks colored a little. “You weren’t exactly alone, Wes. I let it get farther than it should have both times.”

“You’re misunderstanding me, Samantha.” Wes shook his head. “I
want
it to go farther. I just want it to go farther the right way,” he clarified. Wes stretched his arm along the back of her sofa until his fingers feathered down her arm. He watched the goose bumps form where he’d touched her, heard her breath hitch as he traced a path down to her fingers.

“Truth is, I’m a little out of my depth here, Sammy,” he admitted, interlacing their fingers slowly, like a stitch. “I never wanted anyone so much. I don’t really understand it—how you’ve gotten under my skin like this.”

Sam smiled briefly, “If it makes you feel any better, it’s the same for me too.” She squeezed his hand. “You make me nervous.”

“You make me nervous too, darlin’,” Wes murmured, squeezing her back.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing when I’m with you,” she told him frankly, her dark eyes troubled as she finally met his. “I don’t like that—feeling out of sorts.”

Wes lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a hot kiss to the soft skin there. “I don’t really know what I’m doing either, Sammy,” he admitted. “But I can tell you there’s no one in the world I’d rather figure it out with than you.”