CREW
I waitfor 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.”