Page 49 of Sex Positive

Wes frowns. “Dad, I have plans. I’m not—” He runs a hand through his hair, an outward sign of his frustration. “I’m not even in law school yet.”

His father looks up, piercing him with a steely stare. “It’s not up for discussion. This applicantwilljoin our firm, but I believe showing him thefutureof the company in the form of my son will be a significant draw.”

Wes visibly bristles, flexing his hands at his sides. His father arches a brow before returning to the papers.

“Dad.” He makes a halfhearted gesture in her direction. “This is Charlie, a friend from school. Charlie, this is Gabriel Quinn.” He looks at her before turning away. “My father.”

Charlie clears her throat. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn.”

Gabriel continues to peruse the papers. “Likewise, Carly.”

Wes flinches.

Charlie’s mouth parts in surprise.

She retrieves her backpack from where Wes placed it on one of the sleek office chairs. “I know the way out,” she murmurs. “I’ll see you later.”

She hurries back down the hall, overwhelmed by what she just witnessed.

Wes’s father is not what she expected. If genetics are any indication, Wes will not age poorly, but the cool disdain Mr. Quinn directed toward his son and the outward disregard for his opinion shakes her very foundation, reminding her starkly of a time when people she thought respected her choices directed that same disregard at her.

Jabbing the elevator button, she stares at the ascending numbers, tapping her fingers against her thigh.

“Rogers.”

She whirls around.

Wes stands before her, face blank, white box of macarons in his hand. He extends it toward her. “These are for you.”

She backs away. “No, it’s fine. Give them—”

“I got them foryou.” His tone is firm. When she meets his gaze, she’s struck by the cool blankness she finds there.

Without another word, she accepts the box. “Thank you.”

He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Have a safe trip home.”

He walks away, his footsteps disappearing before the elevator dings.

She almost forgot.

Amidst the glow of the city, the sightseeing, and the natural ease between them, Charlie almost forgot they aren’t actually friends. That apart from sharing a strong physical connection, they don’t have anything tying them together.

How foolish of her to forget.

Three Years Ago

Bodies spill outof the house, hang off the porch railing, and cluster together on the front lawn. An EDM remix pumps out the open windows, and shouts of “Chug! Chug! Chug!” come from somewhere inside.

Not for the first time since leaving her dorm room, Charlie wonders why she agreed to meet Wes here. At afratparty.

After sliding past a group of students playing cornhole, Charlie squeezes byseveralcouples making out on the wicker furniture strewn across the yard. With a deep, steadying breath, she climbs the front steps and dives into the crush of bodies.

Earlier that week, Wes showed no surprise when she admitted she hadn’t yet attended an off-campus party despite having been at Archwood for almost an entire academic year. He did, however, goad her in his playful, nonantagonistic way to go to at leastoneso she could say she’d had the full college experience.

“Make sure you wear green, yellow, or red,” he told her, propping his feet on their shared library table.

She smacked his sneakers. “Why?”