Matthews comes out of his office, halting when he spots me and Natalie talking. “Come in, Miss Hartford. We have much to discuss.”
“Yes, we most certainly do.” The smile Natalie flashes me is smug before she turns and enters Matthews’ office, shutting the door behind her.
I storm out of the admin office, snatching the pass from Vivian before I leave, and head for Figueroa’s class.
Fucking Natalie. She’s going to tell Matthews a completely different story and make me look like a lying asshole, all to protect her precious Fig. Confirming all the rumors swirling around campus this morning.
That I was hooking up with her, not Wren.
I wonder if Wren would vouch for me. Of course, this would mean she’d have to come clean about her sneaking into my room last night, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want to do that, even though she’s a reliable witness. Matthews would believe her over all of us.
But my little birdy doesn’t get in trouble.
Ever.
I’m a bad influence. I should probably leave her alone, let her be. But fuck.
I’ve had a taste. I want more.
Within seconds I’m entering the classroom, marching up to Figueroa’s desk and tossing the pass at him.
“You’re late yet again,” he says, a faint smile curling his lips.
“No thanks to you,” I bite out, wanting him to know I saw him with Natalie last night.
He’s not even paying attention to what I’m saying. “Go sit down and work on your essay. Or read. Whatever it is you need to do. And don’t talk to anyone. Understand me?”
“You’re not my boss,” I retort, annoyed. Hating how he’s making me feel like a little kid, when I know I could take this asshole.
If I ever get a chance, I’m going to kick the shit out of him. He would deserve it.
“I am your teacher, and you’ll listen to what I have to say. I’ve had enough of your backtalk these last few weeks. Sit down.” His gaze never strays from mine. “Now.”
I can feel Wren’s gaze on me and I glance in her direction, noting the pleading expression on her face. She looks sad. Of course she does. Shit’s gone sideways in a matter of hours.
I go sit down behind her, leaning over my desk, getting as close to her as I can. “I need to talk to you.”
She turns her head to the side and I stare at her profile, wishing I could kiss her. She nods but doesn’t say a word.
Fuck. This is a mess.
A complete mess.
THIRTY-ONE
WREN
It’s agony, having Crew so close, yet I’m unable to talk to him. I have so many questions to ask, every one of them having to do with last night and what happened between him and Natalie.
I want to believe it was just a coincidence, that they somehow ran into each other, but the doubt creeps in, as it usually does. Only a few weeks ago, he hated me. Antagonized me every chance he got. Who’s to say it isn’t some sort of trick on Crew’s part? A way for him to get close to me, only to make me the laughingstock of the entire school?
My stomach roils at that thought. God, I think I’m going to be sick.
He taps me on the shoulder and I turn, my gaze meeting his, and he must see the worry on my face, though he chooses to ignore it. His expression is deadly serious. “Can I borrow a piece of paper?”
Frowning, I say, “Sure?”
“I forgot my bag in my room,” he explains. “I don’t even have my book.”
“Do you want to borrow my copy?” I offer, wishing I could smack myself.
I need to stop being so nice to him. He might not deserve it.
“Yeah. Please.”
“Wren. Crew.” Figueroa’s expression is stern. He’s being extra strict this morning, though I’m sure a lot of that has to do with me and how I just confronted him. I sent a quick text to Maggie earlier asking where she was, and she still hasn’t answered me.
I’m worried.
“I forgot my stuff. She’s helping me out,” Crew says to Fig.
I hand Crew a few sheets of paper, a pencil and my copy of The Great Gatsby, his fingers brushing mine during the exchange, making me shiver. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
“You’re welcome.” I turn around, taking a deep breath, feeling stupid. I remember everything that happened between us last night. Every single thing, and I don’t want to regret it.
But something is telling me I could. Maybe things aren’t what they seem between us. What if he’s been using me the entire time? If Crew didn’t mean any of things he said or did these last couple of weeks…
I’m going to die of humiliation. I will never want to face him again.
He’s quiet for the rest of class, which is only around fifteen minutes since he arrived so late. By the time the bell rings, he’s bolting out of his seat, dropping the book on top of my desk, a folded piece of paper in it, the edges just showing. I glance up at him in question.
“Meet me at lunch, out back where you caught me and the guys. You know the spot?” He lifts his brows.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
He taps the book with the pencil I gave him. “Read what’s in there.”
I nod again. I assume he’s referring to the note.
His gaze locked on my mouth, he murmurs, “Bye, Birdy.”
He’s gone in a flash and I gather up my things, shoving everything in my backpack and am about to leave the classroom when Fig speaks up.
“You know you should avoid him. He’s only going to break your heart.”
I send him a look. “Is that a warning?”
“Just want you to be safe, Wren. And that boy is definitely not safe. He’s already toying with your heart and Natalie’s.”
I hate that he brought her up. He’s believing the rumors just like everyone else.
“Is that what you want?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything. “To share him with someone else?”
His words, his assumption that I want his opinion about my personal life, is infuriating. The man crosses boundaries all the time, as if he has the right.
“You know what you should do?” I stand, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
Fig frowns. “What?”
“Mind your own damn business.”
I flounce out of there before he can say anything else, shock coursing through me at the way I just told off a teacher. How I actually cursed at him. I never do that.
I never say bad words. It’s like I spend a little time with Crew and I’m changing. Becoming stronger. Finding my voice.
I think I like it.
I race to my second period class, falling into my chair in record time, my hands shaking as I pull the paperback out of my backpack and crack it open to find the folded note inside. With trembling fingers, I open it, my gaze trying to decipher his bold, messy writing.
Don’t let anyone read this. Last night after you went inside, I saw Figueroa drop off Natalie in the parking lot. I confronted her about it and she got mad. Tried to attack me. That’s what happened when we were caught. I wasn’t hooking up with her. She’s hooking up with Fig. Don’t believe the rumors. I’ll tell you more at lunch. Please believe me.
PS – I can’t stop thinking about you and that Blow Pop.
A tiny smile curls my lips and I shove the note back between the pages of The Great Gatsby, then put the book away in my backpack.
I believe him. I have to. There’s no way he could do everything that he did with me, and then get with Natalie immediately afterward. I just—I can’t even wrap my head around it.
It’s like my brain won’t let me.
I pass through the rest of the morning in a haze. Always searching for Maggie—she still hasn’t texted me back—or trying to tune out the rumors about Crew and Natalie. They’re rampant.
It’s all anyone can talk about.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m an internal mess, trying to keep it together. Still no Maggie to be found. I’m supposed to meet Crew and I’m scared to hear what he has to say, but there’s no way I’m not meeting with him.
I have to see him. I need reassurance.
As I’m leaving my fifth period class, I spot Natalie in the hall, our gazes locking for the briefest moment, hers knowing. That devilish smile on her face, as if she’s aware she’s messed up my world and there’s no coming back from it.