I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, running a hand up and down her back as she softly cries against my shirt. “Birdy, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s—it was such a shock. My mother told me first, and she was so calm. It was weird.” She sniffs and pulls away so she can look up at me. Her eyes are bloodshot and watery, tears tracking down her cheeks. Going on instinct, I slowly wipe them away with my thumb and she closes her eyes, her lips curving into the smallest smile. “I didn’t think they would ever split, but here they are, destroying a twenty-five-year marriage. And there’s so much involved. Money and assets. Too many assets. All that art.”
“Are they splitting it up between them?”
“They’re having an auction, according to my mother. They can’t come to a decision over the collection and she refuses to pay for art she already owns, or at least that’s what she explained to me.” Wren shakes her head. “It’s going to be messy. I don’t know what to do, or how to feel.”
I pull her into me. “You should’ve called me.”
“I didn’t know what to say to you,” she admits. “After—everything that happened Saturday. I didn’t know where we stood.”
Slipping my fingers beneath her chin, I tilt her face so she has to look up at me. “I told you I was your friend.”
“I need a friend right now, Crew,” she whispers. “Badly.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“I—I don’t know yet. Your support? Someone to sit with at lunch?” Her laugh is sad, and it hurts my fucking steel-constructed heart to hear it. “Someone who’ll actually be nice to me?”
“Fuck, Wren.” I kiss her again because she’s so damn sad, but she ends it first, stepping away from me completely. “What’s wrong?”
“We should go to class.” As if on cue, the bell rings with the five-minute warning. “We can’t be late to Fig’s.”
Fucking Fig. I hate that guy.
“Crew…” She takes a step toward me, her expression pleading. “Can we keep what happened between us a—secret?”
“What?” I shake my head. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I don’t want anyone to think we’re in a…romantic relationship. We can be friendly. People will think it’s a normal progression from working on the project together, right? I’m just not ready to let people know we made out in the back of a car.”
I automatically want to belittle what happened in the back of that car Saturday afternoon. What’s a little make-out session? We’re in high school. Shit like that happens all the time. All sorts of people who go here hooked up over the weekend and are now pretending nothing ever happened. Hell, I’ve done that more than a few times myself.
But there’s something about Wren telling me she doesn’t want people knowing we kissed that bugs me. Like she wants to keep me her dirty little secret.
That’s fucked up. A blow to my massive ego, if I’m being real with myself.
Then again, I can’t imagine what it’s like, to be Little Miss Perfect Wren, the sweet and proud virgin on campus preaching abstinence. Being seen with me puts her reputation at risk, and that’s something she values.
Maybe a little too much.
“Whatever you want,” I tell her with an easy smile. “We’re just friends, right, Wren?”
“Right.” She nods. “Just friends,” she adds weakly.
“You leave first, okay? I’ll wait a minute so people don’t see us together,” I instruct her.
“Okay.” She smiles. “Thank you for understanding.”
And then she’s gone.
I lean against the wall, steaming as I hit the back of my head on the wall once. Twice. A couple of more times until a growl leaves me.
Why should I care if she wants to keep us a secret? That’s how I usually operate, so I should be all for it. Not like I was going to run out and tell everyone what happened. I didn’t even mention it to my friends. Hell, I lied to Malcolm earlier.
But Birdy’s calling the shots. I don’t like it. Not one bit.
As promised, I leave the room a minute later, rushing to class, pushing past the students milling about. Some of them say my name, but I ignore them. A plan clicks into place as I make my way to Honors English, and when I enter the classroom, I’m relieved to see I can go through with it.
Wren is already there, sitting in her usual spot. Front and center. Her cheeks are blotchy from her earlier crying, but otherwise, she looks okay. Barely holding it together, but okay. I make my way over to the desk directly behind hers and settle in, dropping my bag on the floor next to my feet.
Figueroa notices, of course. He observes me from where he sits at his desk, surrounded by his usual harem of girls, including Maggie, who’s glaring at the rest of them as if she wants to slit their throats.
Someone’s feeling territorial.
I just smile, tempted to wave at him. He doesn’t want to see me sniffing around Wren. He’s trying to get in on that action himself.
Over my dead body.
The final bell rings and the girls settle into their seats, one of them glaring at me since I guess I took her usual spot.
“That’s my seat,” she says snottily.
“Sorry, babe. Trying to score points with the teach,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes and finds another desk.
Mr. Figueroa launches into a lecture about The Great Gatsby, which I haven’t even started reading yet. I figure I’ll watch the movie for real this time if I need to. Or someone will share their notes or whatever with me and help me out. I’m a fucking Lancaster. They all do my bidding.
I tune out his droning voice, staring at the back of Wren’s head. Her dark hair swept up in that high ponytail, the curling ends brushing against the back of her navy jacket. Giving in, I reach out, curling a tendril around my finger, tugging on it lightly.
She doesn’t react. Doesn’t even move, and I wonder if she even felt it.
Glancing around, I make sure no one else is paying attention to me. I shouldn’t play with her hair in front of everyone. They might get the wrong idea.
Though, what would be so bad about that? Thinking we’ve got a thing for each other? So what if we do?
Jesus, I sound like an idiot, even in my own head. I can’t fall for this girl. She’s not for me. She’s too good, too sweet, too innocent and trusting. And a bit of a mess, thanks to her parents just splitting up.
I should leave her alone. Be her friend and push all hope of getting her naked firmly out of my thoughts.
“Mr. Lancaster. Are you paying attention?”
Figueroa’s smug voice startles me and I glare at him, ignoring the soft laughter that fills the class. “Yeah.”
“Tell us then, one of the themes from the book.” Figueroa crosses his arms, waiting for me to fuck up.
I tried to watch the movie when I was like ten, I think? I can’t remember—as in, I also don’t remember hardly anything about it. I left the room within five minutes of my arrival, already bored out of my mind. But I do know about a few of the themes it covers. “Greed? Excess?”
Surprise crosses my teacher’s face. “That’s correct. What else? Anyone?”
Someone else raises their hand and he calls on them, walking over to the other side of the class. Wren turns halfway in her seat, sending me an unreadable look. “Why are you sitting by me? You usually sit in the back.”
“Thought I’d sit by my friend.” I reach out and tug on the end of her ponytail again, and this time, she notices. “I like your hair like this.”
Her cheeks go pink. “Thank you.” She turns her back to me once again, and I smile to myself.
She really thinks she’ll be able to keep this purely friendly between us?
I’ll show her friendly.
TWENTY-ONE
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.