WREN
“Wren.”Fig stops directly beside my desk, and I glance up at him. “A word?”
Not waiting for my response, he heads to his desk and I follow after him, not daring to look back at Crew. I’m sure I know what I’d see on his face.
Anger. Frustration. Annoyance.
It’s the Wednesday after my life changed in a variety of ways and I’m just trying to cope, day by day. My father has called me every evening, his tone soothing as he asks endless questions about my day. I give him minimal responses, not sure how to talk to him, or what to say.
He’s worried about me after the divorce news. I suppose I should find that sweet, but there’s something about it that makes me feel like he’s only trying to cover his butt. Mother sent me a text Monday checking up on me, but otherwise, I haven’t heard from her.
Typical.
And then there’s Crew.
I can’t stop thinking about him, even though I tell myself it’ll lead nowhere. I relive the way he kissed me in the back seat of the car every night before I go to bed. Can’t help but wonder where things could go between us if I kept seeing him. He was so sweet at the gallery, and when we went to lunch. It felt like a date with a boy who might actually like me.
My parents ruined everything. The divorce announcement kind of soured me on the idea of a possible relationship with Crew—with anyone. The dinner that night at the Von Weller’s was a complete bust. Larsen kept trying to talk to me, flirt with me, and I was so cold, I froze him out. Which is not my usual style. I kept thinking about Crew and his warning about Larsen. And how my parents are trying to set me up with him for my future.
Unbelievable.
After Crew kissed me so passionately in that empty classroom Monday, he hasn’t tried anything inappropriate since, and I can’t help but feel…
Disappointed.
I know I’m the one who said I wanted to keep it as friends-only between us, and I still feel that way because the last thing I need is a potential relationship messing with my head. I don’t think I have the emotional capacity to handle something so overwhelming right now.
And the way Crew Lancaster makes me feel is very, very overwhelming.
I still wish he’d kiss me though. Or hold my hand. Hug me. It’s comforting, being in his arms. He’s warm and solid, and he smells like heaven.
“Wren?” Fig is already sitting at his desk while I’m stalled out in front of the classroom, looking like an idiot, I’m sure.
I scurry over to his desk, clamping my lips together to ensure I don’t apologize.
I over-apologize for unnecessary things. Why would I have to say sorry right now? Because I always do? That’s not a good enough reason anymore.
I really need to start standing up for myself.
“Is everything okay?” I ask Fig, once I’m standing beside his desk.
“I was just going to ask you the same question.” He rests his clutched hands on top of his desk, lowering his voice. “I can tell something is bothering you.”
He is far too perceptive. It’s dangerous. Like he can hone in on girls when they’re feeling extra vulnerable and takes advantage of them. “I’m all right. Really.”
“Is someone bothering you?” His gaze shifts over to where Crew sits. His new spot, directly behind me. I quickly glance over my shoulder to see Crew glowering at the two of us, never looking away. Like he doesn’t care that he got caught staring. “I can talk to him if you want me to.”
I shake my head. “Crew isn’t bothering me.” I’m not hiding that I know who he’s talking about.
“Are you sure about that? I know he can be intimidating. He has a reputation around campus for bullying girls, on occasion.”
I’m not surprised. Crew tried to intimidate me many times over the years, though I mostly ignored him, which probably frustrated him even more. “He doesn’t bully me. Crew is my friend.”
Figueroa’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your friend? Oh, Wren. Please tell me you don’t actually believe that.”
“What do you mean?” I’m hurt by his remark. As if I’m a little girl who’s too naïve to know better.
Been there, done that. Still struggling with the aftermath.