Page 15

Honor

This past week has been one of the hardest of my life. I texted and called Wes so many times, but he never answered. I was almost on my way over to his apartment to demand answers when he finally responded, telling me to leave him alone.

I didn’t understand at first. It was when I realized that WhiteKnight was also not responding that I finally put it together.

At first, I couldn’t believe it–even as it was staring me in the face.

The fake photos, the username, the shared interests, the way he seemed to know so much about me.

I had marveled at how talking to WhiteKnight felt just like talking to my best friend–because they were the same person.

At the same time, I couldn’t understand it. Why would Wes sign up for SwipeRight and message me? I reread all of our messages, seeking clues.

But it was the memory of his stern question, “Do you love me?” that finally made the pieces click into place. Not the whole puzzle, because part of me still couldn’t quite grasp why Wes did what he did.

I replayed our conversation, and every conversation before that.

I remembered our conversation in the car ride back from his friends’ fight, when he had told me he loved me, and I hadn’t understood.

I remembered when he told me again outside the symphony that he loved me, and I again hadn’t understood.

I think maybe he’s told me he loves me a million times, and I just could never hear him.

My heart trembled at the enormity of what I was considering. Could Wes truly love me? Could he be in love with me? And am I in love with him ?

I don’t know and with our current separation, all I can do is spiral in my thoughts.

Luckily, I remembered he had the Midsommer Faire coming up and I drove out here, my anxiety ratcheting up with every mile.

I imagined a hundred scenarios, but I still didn’t know what I was going to say when I marched up to his tent, Zeke having pointed the way with a suspicious smirk.

“What are you doing here?” Wes asks me. He slowly stands from where he had been crouching, his armor half on.

I swallow. Not the most encouraging start. “You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls.” I’m too chicken to demand answers or make any declarations of love the way I had imagined on my way over here.

“That should have been answer enough,” he says. “I asked you to give me some time.”

“But I don’t understand for what. You didn’t even tell me what I did.” I struggle to keep the tremor from my voice, but it’s a battle I lose.

Wes sighs. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t understand.” I move closer to him.

“You’re not making any sense. I must have done something to upset you.

Was it what I said about the marriage pact?

We don’t have to do that.” I want him to say something, anything, that will give me an indication of what he’s feeling, and whether I’m right that he loves me, truly loves me. I need to hear him say it.

He turns away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not you, it’s me, I promise.”

“You know, when people say that, they really mean it’s the other person.” I step closer to him.

“Okay, fine, it is you,” Wes says, still not facing me. “And I need you to leave.”

That hurts to hear, but at least now we are getting somewhere–maybe. I step closer to him again. “Not before you tell me what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I take another step, only an arms-length from him now. “You’re not making any sense. First you said it wasn’t my fault, then you said it was, now you’re saying I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s not about right or wrong.”

“Then what is it about?” I ask. I reach out, my hand trembling, to touch his shoulder. He stiffens under my touch. “Tell me.”

He turns to me. “It’s not your fault that you don’t love me. I just need some time and then everything will go back to normal. I promise.”

The prospect suddenly sounds more bleak than appealing. “What if,” I say, my words almost a whisper, “I do love you?”

He huffs a laugh and steps back. “You’re just saying that because things haven’t been working out on the app.”

“Speaking of the app, this may sound crazy but…are you by any chance WhiteKnight?” I watch his face closely.

Wes turns bright red, which is all the confirmation I need.

“You are!” I say, pointing an accusing finger.

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in defense as he steps backward. “It was a mistake. You have every right to be mad at me. I never should have done it.”

“I can’t believe it. Why did you do that?”

His lips thin as though he’s physically holding back the words. I reach out to him again, touching his arm. “Tell me.”

“Because I wanted you to finally see me as more than just a friend,” he says, the words flowing fast as though released from a dam. “I wanted you to see me as a man, as someone you would date.”

“Why?” I ask, needing to hear the words again.

“Because I love you.” He says the words almost angrily. “I’ve tried to tell you so many times, and you never wanted to hear it.”

I step closer to him, so that only an inch separates us.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest with joy at hearing the words from him and knowing the truth behind them.

Wes loves me. I look up into his face–a handsome face that I have known and loved almost as long as I’ve been alive. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you before.”

“It’s not your fault if you don’t love me,” Wes says.

I hold up my hand to cut off whatever he was going to say next. “I love you.”

He tries to shake me off. “No, you don’t. You’re just saying that because you’re worried you’re going to lose me as a friend. But you wouldn’t be happy like that, trapped in a marriage to someone you don’t really love. And I want more–for you and for me.”

“Listen to me,” I say, wanting to shake him. “I love you.” The words echo in my heart, and I know that they’re not just something I’m saying to make things right with Wes, they’re what I feel. They’re real.

“No, you don’t,” Wes says, trying to step back again. “You’re just saying–”

I have had enough. I grab Wes by the arms and pull him into me, planting my mouth on his.

“Mmf,” Wes says. He tries to pull away for another second, but as I hold him in my arms, he finally relaxes, until he’s holding me right back.

I pull back. “Does that feel like I’m kissing a friend?” I ask, out of breath.

He stares at me, breathing just as hard. “I’m not sure. I think, uh, that we should try it again. For science.”

I laugh. “For science, huh? You’re such a nerd.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but I’m the nerd who’s in love with you.” Then he pulls me to him for another kiss.

I melt into him, my head whirling as he kisses me.

He cradles my head in his hand, his mouth moving skillfully over mine, and this is most definitely not the kiss of a friend.

Wait a dang minute here. I was expecting to feel love–because I have always loved Wes–but this is so much more . This is hot.

I stare at him when he finally releases me.

“What?” Wes asks, his eyes searching mine.

“You’ve been holding out on me all these years.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a good kisser–a really good kisser. Maybe you should have tried kissing me instead of just telling me you loved me, and you might have gotten a different response,” I tease.

Wes laughs, a new light in his eyes. “A really good kisser, huh? I’ll take your advice next time.” He drops his mouth to mine and kisses me again, a sweet and gentle touch that speaks of so much more.

I sigh with happiness as we break apart again and hug him, aware of just how precious the gift of his love is. “So, how long have you known you wanted to be more than friends?”

Wes sighs, pulling me close to rest his chin on top of my head. “I think, if I’m truly honest with myself…since kindergarten.”

“What?” I screech. I try to push him away, but his arms cage me. “You’ve been in love with me since kindergarten?”

“Okay, maybe middle school.”

“Middle school?!”

He nods, a rueful smile on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I mock pound my fist against his chest.

He laughs. “Believe me, I tried–an embarrassing number of times. But you never seemed to hear it.”

“Well, I’m hearing it now. And by the way, it still doesn’t excuse you for making up a fake profile.”

“I know. I just…didn’t know what to do or what to say. And I was worried that I was going to lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” I vow. “Even if all we could ever be is friends.”

He freezes. “I don’t want to be friends, Honor. So, if you’re doing this out of some misguided notion of pity or friendship…”

I reach up to cover his mouth with my hand, sensing how much this idea must have haunted him over the years. “I’m not. I promise. I really do love you, too.”

“Do you mean it?” he asks, tenderly tucking the hair back from my face as he looks down on me.

I feel like I’ve seen every expression on Wes’s face, but I’ve never seen this expression before–full, tender, unbridled love.

It’s as though he has hidden a part of himself away from me, and now he has released it to shine forth.

I nod. “I mean it. Forever.”

Wes leans down to kiss me again.

“Wes!” Zeke calls as he enters the tent. He catches sight of us and stands stock-still, as though electrocuted. “Oops. I will, uh, just come back later.” He trips over his own feet as he turns to go and almost hits the ground.

Wes and I laugh. “Don’t worry about it,” Wes says. “What did you need?”

“The guys are all out there waiting on you so we can get started,” Zeke says, his eyes bouncing from me to Wes and back. “So, uh, are you two a thing now or what?”

“We’re a thing,” I confirm, squeezing Wes. “A good thing. A forever thing.”

Zeke lets out a celebratory whoop. “I knew it! See, I told you making a fake profile would work out!”

“You knew about this?” I ask, appalled. I turn to Wes. “You involved a teenager in this?”

Wes turns bright red again as he opens his mouth, but Zeke beats him to it. “What can I say, I’ve got mad skillz,” he says with a cocky smirk. “All the ladies love me.” He points a finger gun at me, fires it, then blows the smoke off.

“Ew, gross,” I say, stepping away from Wes. “Both of you. Gross.”

“Wait,” Wes says desperately, “he just helped me come up with the profile. He didn’t have anything to do with anything else. He never saw the messages. That was all me. He wasn’t involved at all.”

“Let’s just pretend that this never happened,” I say. “And maybe this guy will step out from behind the app and ask me on a real date.” I jerk my thumb at Wes.

“Absolutely,” Wes says, a smile spreading across his face. “Any time, anywhere you want to go.”

“Not Gardner’s. Pretty sure we’ve been permanently banned.” I grimace at the memory.

“We’re more on an Olive Garden level anyway,” Wes says. “I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together.” He pulls me closer to him.

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Zeke says. “When you two are done playing kissy-face, come on out so we can show Milo what we’ve got.”

He might have said something more, but I wouldn’t know, because I’m too busy kissing Wes, my best friend and the love of my life. Who would have ever thought? Oh, that’s right, Wes did. And I’m so happy he did, because this is definitely a love worth fighting for..