Page 66 of Sex Positive

Leaving soon. See you in a bit?

The apartment is dark when she shuffles through the door four hours later; Sy’s already in bed. Exhausted, Charlie unzips her coat and returns it to the wall hook, then slides off her boots and abandons them by the door.

Wes never showed.

The bar was loud and full of energy, her colleagues excited to enjoy a night of fun and games. She grabbed a beer and a slice of pizza and tried not to think about when Wes would arrive. Until an hour passed and there was still no sign of him.

As the night wore on and her phone stayed silent, it became clear that he wasn’t coming.

She sent a text shortly before last call asking if he was okay, but she never received a response.

Flicking on her bedroom light, she pulls off her sweater and jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor. After tying her curls into a messy bun, she pulls on an extra-large T-shirt withThe Wild rueplastered across the front in bold letters and a pair of sleep shorts, then crosses into her bathroom to brush her teeth.

While she wants to be angry, she’s mostly disappointed. With him for allowing her to believe he’d changed. With herself for believing hecouldchange, for misjudging the situation once again.

She should have stuck with her plan from weeks ago. No experimenting. Three tutoring sessions only. Then let Wesley Quinn go for good.

She’s removing her makeup when she hears it.

At first, it’s almost too faint for her to be certain, and she freezes, listening. A few seconds later, there’s another knock on her apartment door.

Confusion and a small zip of fear pulse through her. Who the hell is knocking on her door at midnight?

When she peers through the peephole, however, her pulse stutters, her confusion replaced by buzzing surprise. She opens the door.

“Rogers, hey,” Wes drawls, leaning against the doorjamb with the most devil-may-care smile she’s ever seen. “May I come in?”

Eighteen

Stepping out ofher bedroom the next morning, Charlie pauses when she spots Sy standing at the kitchen counter, wearing jeans and a sweater, drinking coffee.

“Good morning,” Charlie says slowly.

Over the rim of her large yellow coffee mug painted with a bright sunflower, Sy raises her brows. “So, quick question.” She tilts her head in mock thought. “Why is Wesley Quinn snoring on our couch?”

Charlie grimaces, turning to the man in question, unable to keep from studying him at his most vulnerable. Stretched across all three cushions, he snores lightly, mouth hanging open. He’s still fully dressed in the outfit he arrived in the night before, but his white button-down is untucked and unbuttoned at the neck, his black slacks wrinkled. His gray sock–clad feet hang off the end of the couch next to his gray suit jacket, which lies draped over the sofa’s arm. Something in her softens as she takes in his imperfections.

Charlie sighs. “How much coffee did you make?”

Last night, after stumbling through her door, Wes kicked off his shoes and made a beeline for the couch.

“Quinn!” Charlie whisper-shouted, horrified when he flopped onto his stomach, stretched his legs, and hugged a throw pillow to his chest. “What the hell are youdoinghere?”

“Wanted to see you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Ignoring the lurch in her stomach, she shook his shoulder. “You can’t stay here.Quinn, come on, I’ll call you a ride.”

But it was too late—he was already snoring. She stared at him with stunned bewilderment. There was nothing else she could do, so she went to bed. But not before setting a glass of water on the coffee table. She wasn’t a monster.

“He showed up here last night drunk out of his mind.” Charlie wraps her palms around her own coffee mug, peering across the room at Wes’s sleeping form. “I offered to call him a ride, but he was asleep before I even got the words out.”

Sy huffs. “What on earth is going on, Charlie?” She watches her with a mixture of concern and bafflement. “You hate his guts for three years, and then suddenly you’re tutoring him and asking for an introduction to his friend, and now he’s showing up heredrunk?”

The wordhaterings like an alarm in her head.Doesshe still hate him?

Did she ever actually hate him?

The question makes her dizzy. Charlie wants to explain everything to Sy, knows an explanation is long overdue. They share everything; Sy is the closest thing Charlie has to a sister.