It's Always Been You

Working The Magic

Wes's grin was equal parts roguish and reassuring as he reached out, taking my hand in his larger, calloused grip. There was a warmth to his touch, a solidity that seemed to instantly put me more at ease.

"Just because you're leaving that lame party early doesn't mean your night has to go to waste," he stated matter-of-factly, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze. "The drinking and fun don't have to stop just yet."

With that, he turned and began leading me away from the frat house, his long strides setting an easy pace that I matched without hesitation.

There was something inexplicably comforting about having Wes by my side in that moment-his solid, grounding presence acting as an anchor, tethering me back to reality after the emotional turmoil I had just endured.

I couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled up from my chest as I shook my head slowly, allowing myself to be pulled along in his wake. "I don't know if more drinking is exactly what I need right now," I admitted wryly, though I made no move to pull my hand from his warm grasp.

Wes shot me a sidelong glance, his eyes sparkling with mischief in the glow of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. "Oh, I think it's exactly what you need, sweetheart," he countered easily, that playful grin stretching a little wider. "A few stiff drinks, some quality time away from that asshole boyfriend of yours, and maybe a chance to finally unwind and let loose a little. Doctor's orders."

Rolling my eyes at his playful manner, I simply allowed him to lead me onward without further protest. Because as ridiculous as Wes's logic sounded, a part of me knew he was right-getting out of my own head for a little while was probably exactly what I needed.

It didn't take long before Wes was steering us through the door of a dimly lit pub just a few blocks from campus.

The space was relatively crowded, filled with the dull roar of raucous laughter and the clinking of glasses. Instantly, I felt myself relax slightly as the familiar, comforting ambiance washed over me.

"This is more my scene anyway," Wes murmured, leaning in close so I could hear him over the din as we made our way toward an empty booth tucked in the far corner. His breath was warm against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver ricocheting down my spine. "Frat parties are a young man's game-I'm too old and jaded for all that noise these days."

I snorted indelicately at that, shooting him an incredulous look as we slid into the high-backed booth.

The cracked vinyl creaked beneath us, but the space still felt cozy and intimate in a way the rowdy frat house never could. "You're twenty-one, Wes," I pointed out dryly, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "Hardly over the hill just yet."

He simply shrugged one broad shoulder, utterly unbothered as his lips quirked upward in that lopsided grin that always graced his face.

"Maybe, maybe not," he replied cryptically, holding my gaze for a beat too long. "But I'll take a cozy little hole-in-the-wall like this over those obnoxious frat houses any day of the week."

Shaking my head slowly, I couldn't quite suppress my own smile.

There was just something so effortlessly charming about Wes, something that never failed to put me at ease no matter how turbulent my emotions might be swirling.

An unexpected sense of peace and contentment seemed to wash over me as I settled back against the cracked vinyl.

"I'll be right back with some drinks," Wes stated, already sliding out of the booth before I could respond. Leaning across the table, he fixed me with an intense yet playful stare, holding my gaze hostage in a way that made my breath catch. "Try not to run away while I'm gone, yeah? I'd hate to have to send out a search party for you, Romero."