Page 6 of Sex Positive
Charlie’s pulse trips, remembering a time when that statement may have been true and not laced with condescension.
She brushes past his barb. “It’s much more believable than saying you joined the Peer Advocacy Group to pad your résumé.”
Wes shoots her a wry smile. “Speaking of law school—”
“Were we?” she mutters.
“A little birdy shared thatsomeonescored exceptionally high on her LSAT.”
Charlie snaps her gaze to him. Wes’s smile broadens into a knowing grin. Her skin tingles under his direct attention.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Quinn.” The “little birdy” is most likely her academic advisor, a middle-aged white man who loves to gossip.
“Why wouldn’t you want everyone to know?” His tone is light, teasing. “It’s quite the achievement, and it’s certain to getyouinto any law school you set your sights on.”
“Because I’m not you.” She presses her palms flat against the table and leans forward. “I don’t rely on the praise of others to feed my overinflated ego.”
Wes’s grin vanishes, and a tense silence follows. Charlie’s face flames as he narrows his gaze. She never intends to escalate their arguments like this. It’s his fault. He’s always goading her, putting her on the defensive, picking apart everything she says as if his life goal is to undermine and question her.
Shaking her head, she readjusts the birth control pamphlets for the hundredth time. “Why don’t you just leave?”
He scoffs. “And have you dock my hours so I’m forced to volunteer again? No thanks.”
She’s about to explain that she wouldn’t do that, despite her obvious vexation toward him, when another all-too-familiar voice cuts in.
“Well, isn’t this adorable?”
Nash strolls toward her, his dark hair curling around his ears, his white Henley accentuating his smooth golden skin. She’s struck by how perfectly banal and classically handsome he is, and yet she is utterly unaffected.
“Hi.” She tries to smooth the loose curls around her face, which stubbornly defy her efforts to manage them. “What are you doing here?”
Nash steps closer and presses a hand to her hip. Startled, she stumbles into the table, jostling the items she just straightened.
“I wanted to come show my support.” His grin widens, his attention drifting to her lips. “Listen, do you want to grab dinner after this? I’d love to continue what we were doing last night.” Sliding his hand around her waist, he tugs her close.
Charlie’s skin crawls. “Dinner?”
He arches a brow as if charmed by her response. “That new sushi place next to the Monkey Barrel is supposed to be good.”
She swallows. “I—”
A throat clears loudly.
“If you could kindly refrain from groping each other in front of me, I would be much obliged. I have no interest in plucking out my eyes.”
Charlie jolts back, disentangling herself from Nash. Wes, hands linked behind his head, peers at her with a look of bored annoyance. She bristles, her flush returning. Before she can rebuff his insinuation, Nash beats her to it.
“Is this weird for you two?”
Wes barely glances at him, his gaze fixed on Charlie. “What the hell are you rambling about now, Hudson?”
Nash laughs, sharp and crackling. “Because you two fucked, right?”
Charlie blinks, struggling to process his words. Alarm bells blare in her brain, a signal she is either having a stroke or has fallen into an alternate dimension.
Wes leans forward, his front two chair legs slamming to the floor.
“Excuseme?”
