I WAIT for her outside the front of her dorm, unreasonably keyed-up. Anxious.
Words I don’t normally use to describe how I’m feeling.
I tried texting with Wren last night, but she wasn’t very responsive. Even distant. She blamed it on the paper she finished and all the studying she was doing for the history final, but I don’t know.
It feels like something’s wrong. I just can’t put my finger on it.
She was a little odd yesterday too, and I’m still not quite sure why. I get that I’m acting different, and I understand why. Spending the entire weekend with her, having sex with her, fuck. I’m obsessed.
I want her again. In any way I can get her. I can’t stop thinking about her. Yesterday I couldn’t stop touching her. I wanted the whole damn world to know she’s mine. She belonged to me.
Wearing that damn purity ring her father gave her on a chain around my neck felt like the right thing to do. Before we left the cabin, I found it on the nightstand and snagged it up, slipping it into my pocket. I forgot to tell her I had it, and when I got into my room that afternoon and shed my clothes to take a shower, the ring fell onto the floor with a soft pinging sound.
I grabbed it, holding it up to the light, the idea forming. What the ring symbolizes, she no longer is.
Because of me.
I deserve to wear that damn ring around my neck. Maybe she doesn’t like that I did that, but I don’t want to give it back.
If she wants it back though, I’ll give it to her. Reluctantly.
The doors swing open and a group of girls come striding out, but they’re not Wren. I smile grimly at them as they pass by me, a couple of them saying good morning.
I check my phone for the time, realizing she’s running later than usual. Where’s my girl at?
That I even think of her as my girl is mind-blowing. We haven’t made an official declaration to each other, but it feels serious to me. I care about her. I’m worried about her.
Where is she?
The doors swing open again, and she appears. Wearing the black puffy coat and the Mary Janes on her feet, her legs clad in white wool tights. She spots me almost immediately, her expression unreadable and dread consumes me as she draws closer. She’s not smiling. Her eyes are rimmed red.
I go to her, reaching for her, but she dodges away from my hold. “What’s wrong?” I ask her, not bothering with niceties.
She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I have to go home today.” I frown. “You have to?”
“Yes. My father, he’s—mad at me.” She sniffs, the tears now falling freely.
I take a step closer, wiping them away with my thumb as I rest my other hand on her hip. “Why?”
“He—he knows about us, Crew. And he was so upset. I broke my promise to him and he’s angry.”
“How does he know?”
“He has access to my iCloud. I didn’t know about that. He saw my camera roll. The photos I took of us over the weekend. Saturday night.” She shifts closer to me, pressing her forehead against my shoulder. “I’m so ashamed.”
Irritation fills me. Nice word choice. “You’re ashamed of us being together? Or that we got caught?”
“Both. More that we got caught.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath before she lifts her head, her tortured gaze meeting mine. “I told him I wouldn’t do that.”
“What, have sex with someone? Where’s the shame in it? You’re almost eighteen, Wren. Yet you still act like a little girl.”
Her mouth sets in a firm line. “That’s not fair.”
“See? You’re still doing it.” I grab hold of her shoulders, pulling her into me. She rests her hands on my chest, her touch light. “Life isn’t fair, Birdy. You should know this by now. He shouldn’t be mad at you for doing something that’s natural. You’re a good girl. He should be proud of you for holding out for this long.”
“It’s not about holding out, Crew,” she says, her tone bitter. “It’s about making the right choices.”
What the hell? “Are you calling me the wrong choice then?”
“No. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that…” Her voice drifts, and she averts her head. As if it pains her to look at me.
“You shouldn’t have done what? Fucked me?”
Her gaze immediately returns to mine. “You don’t have to put it so crudely.”
“That’s all your father is doing. He’s taken all of the human emotions out of it. Like maybe I want to be with you because I care about you. And you care about me,” I say. Putting it all on the line. Something I don’t normally do.
More like I never do it.
“Do we really though? We barely know each other. It’s only been a couple of weeks,” she points out.
“When we’re lucky enough to find someone that makes our world brighter, shouldn’t we grab hold of that person and never let them go?”
She’s staring up at me, confusion in her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about you. And me.” I kiss her, and naturally she responds. I end the kiss before we get too carried away. “You don’t have to listen to every word your father says. His expectations on you are impossible to maintain.”
“But he’s my father,” she whispers. “I love him. Knowing I disappointed him just…it hurts. I don’t like it when he’s angry with me. He’s all I’ve got.”
He’s going to make her choose. Him or me. I can sense it. I can also sense what her answer will be.
Fuck. That hurts.
“Well, what about me?” I ask her.
“And what are you to me? What am I to you?”
I remain quiet, my thoughts a confused jumble in my brain. I’ve been real with her so far. Admitting things I probably shouldn’t have, yet here I am. Opening up the veins and letting myself bleed.
“That’s what I thought,” she says when I still haven’t replied. The disappointment is written all over her face. “Maybe we moved too fast.”
“Is that what you really think? Or are you only saying that to make yourself feel better?” Shit, I don’t mean it. Yes, we moved fast. Too fast? I don’t know about that.
“I don’t know what to think!” she wails, more tears raining down. “I have to go. I can’t be late for class.”
She starts walking, leaving me where I stand. I watch her go, knowing I should chase after her. Yet I stay rooted in place.
Wren keeps going, never looking back, and I fight the anger that simmers just below the surface. How easily she walks away from me, as if I don’t matter. All she can think about is her father, and how she can’t disappoint him. His standards are impossible for her to meet. He wants her to be his little girl forever.
She’s my girl now. He needs to understand that. So does she.
“Birdy!” The nickname bursts out of me, and she whirls around, her sad eyes meeting mine. “I want to see you when we’re in the city.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she says, loud enough for me to hear. Loud enough to pierce my steel-walled heart.
I’m going to see her. Before her birthday. After. On New Year’s Eve. I’m going to make sure these next few weeks are good for her. Prove that I haven’t forgotten her like everyone else. When I said I was her friend, I meant it.
When I said I cared about her, I meant that too. No way can I lose her now.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I bring up my brother’s number and call him.
“What now?” Grant barks.
“I need your help,” I tell him, my voice dead serious. “Hopefully you can find it.”
“I can find anything you need, little brother,” Grant says with that Lancaster confidence we all have. “Tell me what you need.”
