Page 106 of The Golden Boys

Usually, he just starts barking orders, but not today.

“Hey,” he says first, leading with an actual greeting.

I try not to let on that I notice it’s different.

“Hey,” I say back.

It’s weird. Like, I’m not sure how to act around him now. He feels it, too. The awkward tension. I see it in his eyes. I suppose you can’t touch someone the way we’ve touched each other and not see things change. Guess it’s a good thing we stopped when we did. Even if my body still hasn’t quite accepted this fact. Every inch of me wanted him the other night. Had it not been for Parker barging in, there’s no telling what would’ve happened.

“I uh … I guess we should get started,” he finally says. I nod, agreeing.

First taking a deep breath, I plunge beneath the water and get my entire body wet and acclimated to the temp. When I pop up and clear water from my eyes, he’s staring. Not at my face, but at my boobs.

I can’t help but to wonder if he’s thinking about it, too—what could’ve happened at that party, the missed opportunity.

“Should I maybe try making it across?” I ask, pointing from the four-foot marker on this side to the one on the other side.

The question seems to draw West from whatever thoughts he’s having, and he focuses again.

“Sure you’re up for that?”

I’m confused by what he means.

“Um, should I …notbe up for that?” When I smile, he glances at my lips before his gaze flickers back to mine.

“You could’ve died Saturday,” he reminds me.

I shrug awkwardly. “Yup. Could’ve, but I’m all good now. So—”

My smile tightens and he is clearly not amused. The stoic look he gives tells me he’s not so convinced. It also tells me … he’s concerned, and I’m not really sure what to do with that.

“Don’t you think you should take it easy?” he pushes. His voice is low and stern, which, surprisingly, draws a laugh out of me.

“Relax. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. Once I get meds and the episode passes, I’m in the clear.”

He’s still not buying it.

“What are you gonna do? Hold my hand during basketball tryouts this afternoon, too?” I ask, still smiling.

He stillisn’tsmiling.

“Skip it,” he says all authoritative-like. “I’m sure you can talk to one of the coaches and get them to let you do a run through next week instead, considering.”

“What?” I scoff. “No! I’m fine.”

I’m sure, to him, it sounds like I simplywantto go to tryouts, but the truth is that Ihaveto go. According to Dr. Pryor, at least.

“I think you’re pushing it,” he states firmly.

“West—”

“I know your mom isn’t around, and your dad probably doesn’t even know you didn’t come home Saturday night, but…”

He pauses and I hold my breath, seeing something I never expected.

It seems West has been …affected, traumatized by what happened over the weekend.

“You don’t remember how sick you were,” he adds, holding that same stern tone.