WREN
It’s agony,having Crew so close, yet I’m unable to talk to him. I have so many questions to ask, every one of them having to do with last night and what happened between him and Natalie.
I want to believe it was just a coincidence, that they somehow ran into each other, but the doubt creeps in, as it usually does. Only a few weeks ago, he hated me. Antagonized me every chance he got. Who’s to say it isn’t some sort of trick on Crew’s part? A way for him to get close to me, only to make me the laughingstock of the entire school?
My stomach roils at that thought. God, I think I’m going to be sick.
He taps me on the shoulder and I turn, my gaze meeting his, and he must see the worry on my face, though he chooses to ignore it. His expression is deadly serious. “Can I borrow a piece of paper?”
Frowning, I say, “Sure?”
“I forgot my bag in my room,” he explains. “I don’t even have my book.”
“Do you want to borrow my copy?” I offer, wishing I could smack myself.
I need to stop being so nice to him. He might not deserve it.
“Yeah. Please.”
“Wren. Crew.” Figueroa’s expression is stern. He’s being extra strict this morning, though I’m sure a lot of that has to do with me and how I just confronted him. I sent a quick text to Maggie earlier asking where she was, and she still hasn’t answered me.
I’m worried.
“I forgot my stuff. She’s helping me out,” Crew says to Fig.
I hand Crew a few sheets of paper, a pencil and my copy of The Great Gatsby, his fingers brushing mine during the exchange, making me shiver. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
“You’re welcome.” I turn around, taking a deep breath, feeling stupid. I remember everything that happened between us last night. Every single thing, and I don’t want to regret it.
But something is telling me I could. Maybe things aren’t what they seem between us. What if he’s been using me the entire time? If Crew didn’t mean any of things he said or did these last couple of weeks…
I’m going to die of humiliation. I will never want to face him again.
He’s quiet for the rest of class, which is only around fifteen minutes since he arrived so late. By the time the bell rings, he’s bolting out of his seat, dropping the book on top of my desk, a folded piece of paper in it, the edges just showing. I glance up at him in question.
“Meet me at lunch, out back where you caught me and the guys. You know the spot?” He lifts his brows.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
He taps the book with the pencil I gave him. “Read what’s in there.”
I nod again. I assume he’s referring to the note.
His gaze locked on my mouth, he murmurs, “Bye, Birdy.”
He’s gone in a flash and I gather up my things, shoving everything in my backpack and am about to leave the classroom when Fig speaks up.
“You know you should avoid him. He’s only going to break your heart.”
I send him a look. “Is that a warning?”
“Just want you to be safe, Wren. And that boy is definitely not safe. He’s already toying with your heart and Natalie’s.”
I hate that he brought her up. He’s believing the rumors just like everyone else.
“Is that what you want?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything. “To share him with someone else?”
His words, his assumption that I want his opinion about my personal life, is infuriating. The man crosses boundaries all the time, as if he has the right.