CREW
She walksby my side as we head to the library, our pace fast since it just started to snow. More like a freezing rain, which means it’s still cold as fuck, and stings too. At least snow is soft, most of the time.
“Come on,” I tell her, putting my hand at the center of her back and pushing her to pick up the pace. We run the rest of the way, both of us stopping once we’re standing under the overhang in front of the library, Wren brushing the top of her head with her hand, water droplets flying.
“It’s freezing,” she says through chattering teeth, and I don’t even hesitate.
Taking her hand, I pull her into the library, the warmth from inside instantly thawing me out.
“Better?” I ask her.
“Yes.” She drops her hand and glances around the room. It’s one of the original buildings on campus, and it has that musty smell of old books lingering in the air. The ceiling soars high, the shelves tall and filled with so many books it would take someone years to read them all.
There’s hardly anyone in here, and I’m thinking the weather is a deterrent. I never come to the library. I can probably count on one hand the times I’ve been here since I started at Lancaster Prep. Well, maybe two.
“Let’s go to the back,” I suggest.
She frowns. “Why?”
“So we can have privacy.”
“Why do we need privacy?”
“We’re talking about some personal stuff, Birdy. You want everyone to find out about your deepest, darkest secrets?”
Her expression turns stricken. “No. But that means I don’t want them blabbed during our presentation either.”
“We’ll keep it surface-level. Don’t worry. Come on.” I flick my head in the direction I want to go and start walking. She falls into step beside me. “You come here a lot?”
“Not really. I used to more when I was younger. I’d hang out in here with my friends and Miss Taylor would get mad at us,” she says, referring to the librarian. “She’d always shush us.”
“She’s older than dirt. I think she’s been here for two hundred years.”
“Maybe she’s a zombie,” Wren suggests.
“More like a vampire,” I joke. “Living her best eternal life.”
Wren smiles, and I wish I could see her do that more often. She’s been so somber, so sad the last few days. Ever since her parents unloaded on her that they’re getting a divorce.
I think of my own parents and the fucked-up relationship they’re in. Dad’s a dick who flaunts his affairs and I’m pretty sure Mom does too. This is why I never want to be in a relationship. They’re messy. Unnecessary. Eventually, I’ll probably have to get married and carry on the family lineage or what the fuck ever, but maybe I won’t have to. Maybe my brothers will take care of that for me.
My oldest brother Grant is involved with someone, and it seems pretty serious, pretty fast. Finn is a total player, so he’s not settling down anytime soon. Charlotte just got married to someone she barely knows, but that dude is cool.
I’m barely eighteen. Definitely not interested in anything like that.
But I am interested in getting Wren alone again. Wouldn’t mind trying to kiss her again too, though I’m not sure if she’d be down. She’s wound so tight lately. I want her to act like she did last Saturday, when she was open and smiling, full of joy as she shared her love of art with me. Our conversation flowed, to the point of her admitting some major stuff I still can’t believe she shared with me. Fingering herself in her bedroom all night and watching porn—not very Wren-like behavior at all.
Just remembering her softly-spoken confessions makes my dick twitch.
We eventually find an empty round table in the very back of the library and I go to it, settling into a chair and pulling out the one next to me for Wren. She sits down, setting her backpack on the table, her movements slow. Measured.
“Did you really bring me back here to work on the project?” She shrugs out of her coat, settling it over the back of her chair. Watching me with those big green eyes, her lips slightly pursed in a sexy pout.
Wait a minute.
“Yeah,” I tell her, taking my coat off, leaving it slumped behind me. “You told me you just wanted to keep it friends-only between us.”
“Right.” She tears her gaze away from mine, staring at the shelf closest to us, a sigh leaving her. “I’m so tired of feeling sad.”