Page 21 of Sex Positive

Charlie tilts her head. “We do.”

Gathering her long, silky black hair into a high ponytail, Sy peers at her. “So, why are you studying together?”

Charlie rubs a finger over her eyebrow and sighs. “He’s going to introduce me to Theo Fox so I can ask if Victoria can go on his podcast to talk about the clinic.” She shrugs. “I think it might help drum up more publicity.”

Sy’s expression softens. She knows how much the clinic means to Charlie. Sy was the one to suggest Charlie make an appointment to get help with her painful periods when she was forced to miss class because of debilitating cramps back in freshman year, a regular occurrence she thought was just a normal part of being female.

Earlier that week, the two of them spent a long, wine-filled evening brainstorming ways to save it. However, Charlie failed to mention her arrangement with Wes.

“Okay, that’s all well and good, but where does studying with Wesley Quinn come in?”

“He only agreed to make the introduction after I said I’d tutor him for the LSAT.”

Sy places her hands on her Lululemon-clad hips. “Why doesn’t his dad pay for a tutor?”

Charlie throws her hands in the air. “That’s what I said! He won’t tell me!”

“But we’re okay being in the same room with him? No…murdery thoughts?”

“Only a few.”

Sy winks. “I’ll take that.”

Charlie slumps on the end of her friend’s bed. “It’s fine. I only agreed to three sessions.”

Sy sits on the floor, pulling on her running shoes. “All right. I trust you, and you know I’m constantly telling you that you’re the most rational person I know. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Charlie doesn’t want that either.

“That’s not what this is,” she insists.

Shoes tied, Sy stands, tucking her phone in the pocket of her leggings and tapping her Apple watch.

“I believe you. I’m off for a run with Bri, but I’ll be back in an hour. Sooner if you send an SOS or shoot up flares for help.”

Charlie grins. “Thanks.”

“Also.” She plucks at the sleeve of Charlie’s sweatshirt. “His shirt matches—”

“God, Iknow.”

Sy leaves without saying a word to Wes, and Charlie escapes to her bedroom to change out of her sweatshirt. Pulling on a simple black tank top and a chunky purple cardigan, she braces herself once more to be alone with him, repeating the mantra she started that morning before he arrived.

She is in control. She is cool, calm, and collected.

When she exits her room, her mantra flies out of her head, replaced by a surge of shock that quickly morphs into rage.

“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing?”

Wes’s gaze snaps to hers. He’s standing at the kitchen counter, scanning her Experiment Journal that was on the counter with her own study materials she planned to work on while he completed his test.

He holds it up. “What is this?”

She storms up to him, but he dodges as she tries to grab the journal. The practice test lies abandoned on the table, the timer still running.

“I told you, it’s nothing!” She swipes for it again, and he flees to the other side of the kitchen. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Quinn, snooping through my things.”

“I needed some extra paper to take notes. It doesn’t look like nothing—”