It’s something I haven’t noticed about him before, because I tend to avoid Weston like the plague.
The way he acts all proper, sitting up with good posture on his chair, until he eventually gets tired and then slouches over a little bit in the seat, then repeats the process again.
Or how he’s trying so hard not to look my way. He pays attention to Dr. Sellwood and averts his gaze from going anywhere near me, but he chews on his lower lip, unable to hide his nerves.
Even last night at dinner he was so concerned about Noah when he poured liquor into his soda. The amount of liquor was a little excessive, but nothing a guy of his size couldn’t handle.
Why are you so bound to the rules, Sheriff?
I put the end of my pen into my mouth, biting it a little.
When class is nearly over, I’ve already forgotten that Dr. Sellwood planned to break the students up into groups for discussion.
“Ten minutes of analysis in small groups,” she says, clapping her hands together. “There are three questions on the worksheet. Get in groups of four, and Sevan and I will go around, facilitating.”
The class breaks out into a chattering murmur as everyone finds their groups. I pass out the question sheets to every desk, and naturally, Wes avoids my gaze when I drop it on his. I keep my distance as everyone works on their questions together, and I stay around the perimeter of the room helping other students with the assignment.
When there are only a few minutes left, I head over.
“Marie Antoinette was the one who saidlet them eat cake,” Wes is saying to his group.
Noah’s there looking like he’s half asleep. The two other girls in his group are nodding at Wes, both of them probably distracted by how obscenely good he looks in that light blue sweater.
The faint dark circles beneath his eyes only serve to highlight the lighter blue flecks in his irises, and I can see why the girls are staring.
“So true, Wes,” one girl says, nodding at him.
I loop around behind him and pull up an empty chair, sitting on it backwards and looking over.
“It’s actually a fabrication that she saidlet them eat cake,” I correct Weston. “A rumor that started after her death.”
He glares at me. “Well, she might not have said it, but she acted like it.”
“Very true. The third question on the worksheet goes into that, discussing why public opinion of her was so volatile.”
“Dude. Sevan,” Noah says, blinking at me like he’s finally waking up. He holds out a hand to fist bump me. “Going to come to our party on Saturday?”
“Not sure yet. Wes tends to throw me out of Onyx parties.”
“I only threw you out once, when you tried to deck one of my friends in the face. The rules are pretty simple, Sev. I don’t like fights.”
“Maybe you’d like a fight withme. We should try sometime.”
“We’re in the middle of class. Fuck off,” he says, a flare of anger flashing behind his eyes.
I stand up quickly, the chair making a bad sound on the hardwood floor.
“I think you guys have this worksheet figured out.”
I head over and help other people out, but when I look back to Weston, he’s watching me.
I blow him a tiny kiss and he scowls at me, but I see a pink blush fall over his cheekbones when he turns away.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Every muscle firing, coming back to life.