WREN
I don’t like being madea spectacle in front of the entire class, and that’s exactly what Crew just did. Attention doesn’t bother me, as long as it’s not negative.
What he just made happen felt negative. Almost mocking. Shoving me to the side, so we could share his desk chair, even for those brief few minutes, had been annoyingly…
Pleasant.
He’s solid. Hard muscle and hot skin. Broad shouldered with a wide chest and strong arms. Being so close to him, his arm slung behind me and across the back of the chair, I felt as if I was in a Crew Lancaster cocoon. And I liked it. I liked having him close. My heart started to race with having him so near.
It’s still racing.
I settle into my seat, dropping my notebook on top of my desk, keeping my attention on Ms. Skov, who’s wrapping up attendance. The hairs on the back of my neck slowly rise, and it takes everything inside me not to turn around and see who’s staring.
I already know. I can feel his gaze on me, heavy and brooding. As subtly as I can, I glance over my shoulder, catching his eyes on me and no one else, and then he does the strangest thing.
He smiles.
It’s small and quick, and if I told anyone else it happened, no one would believe me, but oh my God, Crew just smiled at me, and my stomach feels like a million butterflies just took flight, their fluttering wings making me tingle everywhere.
All from a brief smile.
What in the world is wrong with me?
“All right. Pair up with your partners. We’re all set there, right?” Skov settles her gaze on me, her thin brows shooting up. I barely nod, embarrassed at being called out yet again. “Okay. Get to work.”
I leave my desk and make my way back to Crew, who’s sprawled in his seat rather insolently, his expression one of pure boredom, his body language telling me he’d rather be anywhere but here.
I step over his feet and plop myself into the empty desk next to Crew, which was just abandoned by Ezra. “Did you prepare anything for today?” I ask, knowing what his answer will be.
“No.” He lifts his heavy-lidded gaze to mine. “Did you?”
Nodding, I flip open my notebook to the list of questions I jotted down earlier this morning, when I realized I had no choice, that whether I liked it or not, Crew would remain my psychology partner. “I came up with a few questions.”
“For me?” He sits up straighter, rubbing his hands together. “Let me hear them.”
I send him a strange look, surprised by his behavior. I don’t understand this boy. I know I wouldn’t be eager to hear any questions he might have for me.
“They’re simple questions—” I start, but he shakes his head, cutting me off.
“Nothing is simple when it comes to you, Birdy. I get the feeling you’re going to try and figure me out.”
He’s so right, not that I think I have a chance in doing so, not with the limited time we have to work on this project.
Figuring out Crew Lancaster and what motivates him will probably take months. Maybe even years.
“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” I stress, leaning across the desk. His gaze drops, lingering on my chest, and I realize a second too late, my breasts are basically resting on top of the desk.
I pull away, my cheeks going hot, and when he returns his gaze to mine, he’s smirking.
“I have an idea,” he says, and I momentarily forget my embarrassment, just grateful he’s willing to come up with something.
“What is it?”
“Let’s make a list of our assumptions about each other.” It’s his turn to lean in closer, those glittering eyes of his never leaving mine. “I’d love to find out what you think you know about me.”
I don’t want to know what he thinks about me. I’m sure it’s all terrible, more gossip than facts. Most of the guys at this school don’t care for me, only because I won’t succumb to their charms.
I sound like my mother with that term, but it’s true. I don’t fall for the coercion, or their lies. They flatter, they say what us girls want to hear, and next thing we know, we’re on our knees for them. Or beneath them in a bed, or a car, or whatever dark, supposedly private place they can get us into. They ask for provocative photos, claiming they’re private, and then they share them with their friends. Making them a mockery.