Page 7 of Sex Positive

No. No, no,no.

Charlie’s heart is in her throat, her knees wobbly like the ground has dropped out from underneath her. She presses a hand to the table, steadying herself as the room spins.

Wes glances sidelong at her, and all Charlie can do is stare back at him, wide-eyed and blinking with shock.

“Charlotte shared that little tidbit last night when we were hanging out.” Nash tucks an escaped curl behind her ear, and she commends herself for not flinching. “But you don’t mind, do you, Wesley?”

Wes’s gaze narrows, and then a slow, lazy grin transforms his face, so familiar and easy that Charlie’s pulse trips.

“Not at all.” He stares at her as he says this, his eyes glittering with an unknown emotion, and she can’t look away. “We had a great time, didn’t we, Rogers?”

Charlie nods, her throat dry, and wrenches her gaze from his. Forcing a smile, she squeaks, “We did.”

Nash’s eyes flash before he leans in and kisses her. She gasps at the unexpected contact, stepping back in surprise.

“Glad to hear Wesley finally took something for himself first.” He shoots her a wink before looking at Wes. Charlie has no idea what he means, but Wes’s gaze drills into Nash, dark and murderous.

Nash raps his knuckles on the table. “Y’all have fun, but nottoomuch fun.”

With one last wink, he stalks off, leaving destruction in his wake.

Students laugh together as they cross the lobby, ignoring Charlie and her pathetic excuse for sexual health outreach, something she once hoped to improve during her time at Archwood.

She joined the Peer Health Advocacy Group, sponsored by the Harris Student Health Clinic, freshman year as a way to educateherselfon sexual health. Student volunteers are supposed to help facilitate uncomfortable or difficult conversations between people their own age, the idea being that it’s easier to relate to each other than to much older adults. She’s been trying to expand the Sexual Health Outreach Program to include free STI testing and contraception for students, as well as planned discussions on campus about a variety of topics pertaining to sexual health and reproductive justice. She doesn’t want anyone to feel shame about having sex. She doesn’t want people who grew up like her, with parents who preached about chastity and purity, to believe something is wrong with them just because they have normal desires.

However, Charlie quickly learned many students made a mockery of the program. Between that and budget cuts, her goal of expanding it has become a pipe dream.

Leaning against the table, a sense of defeat slowly spreads through her chest.

“Rogers.”

Wes’s fingers tap rhythmically against the table, his expression inscrutable.

She studies him, taking in the sharp edge of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, the plush swell of his lower lip. Heat unspools in her center. Even through her embarrassment, her body’s reaction to him is inescapable, a betrayal.

“What,” he says in that same low voice that’s always caused her blood to simmer, “in the actual fuck was that?”

Charlie pushes her shoulders back as if assuming a defensive stance can keep him from asking any more questions. Instead of cowering, however, he leans over the table, his face inches from hers.

“Why,” he rumbles, “did you tell Nash Hudson we slept together?”

Charlie glances at the clock on the wall. Her time was up, anyway. “I have to go.”

Without looking at Wes, she begins condensing her samples into one box and unceremoniously rips down the Peer Health Advocacy Group sign.

“Rogers.”

She ignores him, feeling his eyes on her while he continues standing over the table.

Gathering the boxes in her arms, she turns on her heel and begins walking away.

“Rogers—” Wes says. “Rogers, what thefuck?”

She storms across the lobby, face flaming with mortification, but his footsteps soon follow her.

“Seriously, Charlie?” he calls. “You’re just going to ignore me like you did three years ago?”

She freezes at her first name on his lips, at the reminder of their past together.