Callum
She had no idea I was behind her.
I’d gotten good at blending, though it wasn’t always the easiest with my height and rising fame. Wren didn’t know it, but she was used to my presence. When I wasn’t touring, I always found a way to watch her at least once a day.
I wasn’t a total psychopath, though. My obsession didn’t involve peeking in windows or eating her trash. I didn’t jack off into her stolen underwear or dream of making her into a skin suit. Watching Wren live her life soothed me. Knowing she was safe and cared for allowed me to keep my distance.
Now that I could talk to her, inhale her summer scent, touch her sweet skin, I realized I’d been starving for years. The tastes I’d gotten of Wren had only begun to sate me.
Leaning forward, my nose brushed the back of her hair. She stiffened and shuffled a step closer to the person in front of her. Wren was such a creature of habit, she’d only been at her new job three weeks and had already developed a routine. Coffee shop at twelve thirty, followed by eating her brown-bagged lunch in the park, and back at her desk by one thirty. I hadn’t even had to follow her to end up in line behind her today.
“Little Bird,” I whispered. “Don’t try to get away from me.”
Her shoulders jumped, then she whirled around, already smiling. “You scared the shit out of me, sir.” Her lips spread into a wide grin, and a giggle bubbled out. “What are you doing here?”
I tucked her hair for her. “I have to head into Good Music to put some finishing touches on a couple songs. I knew you’d be here, so I came here first.”
She played with the zipper on my leather jacket. “Am I that predictable?”
“Mmhmm. I like that about you.”
Her eyes drifted up to mine. “I’m happy to see you. I was beginning to forget what you look like.”
“Three days is all it takes?” Hooking my finger in the space between her buttons, I tugged her into me and dipped my head so I could speak to only her. “A thousand years, and I won’t forget your face, Wren.”
She shivered and clutched my jacket. “You can’t just say those types of things to me in a coffee shop. All those times I told you in my emails that you’d made me cry, I wasn’t kidding.” She sniffled and rubbed her face on my leather sleeve. “The things you say, Callum Rose…I swear, you have a direct line to my tear ducts.”
I had to laugh, even though she was making my chest ache. “I don’t want you to cry. Never.”
She nodded, still hiding her face. “Somehow, I know that.”
When it was our turn to order, Wren was still pressed against me, so I did it for her, adding a chocolate chip cookie and a cup of coffee for myself. I should’ve been in the studio. I had only intended on a quick stop to get a fix of Wren, but now that I had her, I didn’t give a single shit about my schedule.
Outside, Wren held her coffee in both hands and blew through the small hole in the lid to cool the steaming liquid.
“Do you have to go?” she asked.
“I have some time. Do you mind if I sit with you during your break?”
She bit her lip, but she couldn’t stop her grin. “I don’t know. My bench is very exclusive.”
“I saw a pigeon shittin’ next to it when I walked by earlier.”
She snorted a laugh. “That adds to the ambiance. Everyone knows pigeons class up any joint.”
We sat on her shitty bench. I drank my coffee. She ate her turkey sandwich. Her cheeks were pink every time I looked at her, and there was a quiver in her voice that eased the more time we sat there. Wren told me about her job and the coworker she had an odd relationship with. She named all the musicians who’d come into the building she deemed more famous than me, then checked to make sure she hadn’t hurt my feelings.
I thought I knew a lot about Wren Anderson. And maybe I did. But I hadn’t really grasped how kind she was. It wasn’t a trait I had come across very often in my years. I almost wished she was a little meaner, if only to protect herself.
I knew dark and manipulative people who would prey upon someone like Wren. I grew up with them, learned from them, and had to fight my way out of it.
But I wouldn’t change her. I’d be here to protect her from that darkness. It would never touch her.
“There’s no one like you,” I said.
She stopped chewing and covered her mouth with her hand. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a fact. No one’s like you.”