Page 38 of Setting Limits

I take it quickly, earning a dirty look from the waitress, and let Weston lead me out of the restaurant. While he’s respectful and keeps his hand in mine, part of me wishes he’d put a hand around my waist and pull me against his side. But we’re not at that point, and I’m the one who made sure of that. I could have leaned into the kiss, I could have made this more.

He’s quiet the whole way back to the dorm, and I’m wondering if he’s trying to figure out how to let me know he won’t be asking me out again.

After parking, he runs around to my side of the car and opens the door before I can, offering his hand again. There’s more silence as he walks me upstairs.

But once we get to the door, he spins me around and pushes me against it, his hands resting slightly above my ears, his hips tipping forward and closer to me. “I had a really nice time tonight. Though I hadn’t had any doubts that I would.”

“I did, too.”

“Can I pick you up at three for coffee tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” My eyes widen as my brows raise high on my forehead. I wasn’t expecting him to want to see me again, let alone so soon.

“Why wait?” He tips up a shoulder as his gaze trails down my body.

“Three works. I’m done with classes by two.” I’m dying to graze my fingers along his chest; they practically tingle at the thought.

“I know.” Wait. He knows? How does he know when I’m done with classes?

“Good night, Chelsea. Be ready at three on the dot.”

“I will be. Good night, Wes. Thank you for a nice dinner.”

He leans in and leaves a ghost of a kiss on my forehead before he walks away. I can’t get myself to tear my stare from his back as he walks down the hall. Am I imagining things, or is there a little more swagger in his step than usual? And Wes certainly walks with swagger.

The next morning, I can barely focus in my classes. My mind is constantly distracted by not just last night’s date, but the upcoming coffee that’s inching closer and closer.

I get back to my dorm faster than ever, out of breath from practically speed walking my way here.

There’s time for me to take a shower, which is how I intended it. Ever since Wes mentioned that he likes the scent of my shampoo and body wash last night, I put it in my mind that I need to at least take a quick wash before any interaction, so it’s fresh and strong. But I have the time for a full shower, which means washing my hair and styling it with the waves he once mentioned liking.

It’s one of many little things he’s stated over the past several months that I’ve picked up on and tucked away somewhere, in a place I didn’t even know I was keeping things until I started having these memories come up.

The things I can remember: he loves the honeysuckle scent, Skittles, he’s passionate about technology and computer science, he’s left-handed, prefers scotch, growing up he had a cat named Morris who was an asshole, he likes my waves, and his specialty is truly delicious popcorn. There was something really extra about it, but I still can’t quite figure out what.

And for some reason that I can’t quite understand, he’s interested in me.

My hair has a nice wave to it after the tips and tricks Shay’s been kind enough to teach me. Apparently, the right product and no heat really do make a difference.

With less than a half hour left until he gets here, I hop up on my bed to read a magazine but end up tossing it to the side within minutes, swinging my feet and looking around the room instead.

Shay won’t be back to the room, and I wouldn’t want her to know what was going on anyway, fearing the look of betrayal in her eyes, but part of me wishes she would be back so I had somebody to talk to and calm me down.

The knock has me hopping off the bed and running to the door.

“Hi,” I breathe as I open it.

Wes looks me up and down and smiles widely. “Hey, gorgeous. You ready?”

I lean back to my desk and grab my key, holding it up and grinning like a fool. He has this way of making me feel so nervous in my own skin. It’s not something I’m used to experiencing and I don’t like it one bit.

As I follow him out, I shake off the feeling and give myself a mini, internal pep-talk, basically just telling myself to buck the fuck up.

Without a moment of hesitation, Wes links his fingers with mine. There’s a moment of panic, but then I realize that Shay and Lochlyn are either in class or in that damn library and won’t see us.

When we get to his car, I know that wherever he’s taking me for coffee is off campus, as any of the cafes are within walking distance.

“Chelsea, during this time that I’m taking you on dates, I need you to do something for me.” Before turning the key in the ignition, Wes rests his elbow on the center console, his fingers playing with his lower lip while he eyes mine.

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