If she knows how much she affects me.
Wren is unlike any girl I’ve ever known, and I want to know more. I feel as if I’ve barely scratched the surface, and tonight’s mini-rant was telling.
Though I shouldn’t call it a rant. She was being real and raw and vulnerable. Something she’s done with me often, which I like.
Damn it, I like everything about this girl, and that’s scary as fuck.
I don’t let people into my life, especially a girl. I have friends, but I keep most of them at surface level, worried to let them get close. I don’t trust people, even guys who are almost as rich as I am.
But no one I know is as wealthy as my family, and it’s hard to let them into my inner circle. Every girl who’s ever shown interest in me I always figured was after my money.
Shitty but true.
Not Wren though. She wanted nothing to do with me at first, but I guess I wore her down. It’s as if we can’t help ourselves when we’re around each other.
And now that we’ve gone this far, I’m not about to let her go without a fight.
She breaks the kiss first, her chest brushing against mine with her every breath. “I have a surprise for you.”
I raise my brows. “Does it have anything to do with that bag over there?” I incline my head toward the cluster of bags she left on the coffee table.
She nods, biting her lower lip. “I hope you don’t think it’s stupid.”
“Anything involving you and whatever you found at that store, I know it won’t be stupid.”
Her smile is small, her gaze locking on mine. “I’ve had so much fun with you today.”
I don’t think anyone’s ever called spending time with me fun before.
“And I’m so glad you convinced me to come with you, even though I was scared.” Her hands tighten on my shoulders. “I like how you push me.”
I run a hand through her hair, cupping the side of her head. “I don’t think you know what you’re capable of.”
“I’m starting to realize, thanks to you.” Her smile grows and then she’s ducking out of my hold and practically running over to the bags, plucking up the one from the lingerie store before she heads for the stairs. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Meet me up there in thirty?”
“Sure,” I tell her, smiling at her before she zooms up the stairs.
I settle onto the couch with another slice of pizza, checking my phone while I wait. I have text messages I’ve been avoiding. Ones from Malcolm and Ezra, both of them asking where I’m at. One from my sister, asking if I’ll be at the house for Christmas Eve.
I shoot her a quick text, because I never ignore Charlotte. She’s my closest sibling and I’ve been worried about her ever since she married that Perry dude.
There’s an ominous message from my father, one that fills me with dread.
We need to talk. Call me when you get a chance.
I consider ignoring it, but realize quickly that avoiding my problems is not the answer.
I bring up his number and call him, hoping he won’t answer.
Just my luck, he picks up on the second ring.
“Why didn’t you tell me detectives interviewed you yesterday?” he barks at me.
Damn it, I’m probably going to need alcohol after this conversation.
“You already knew about the situation, so I didn’t think I needed to call you. Plus, I’m eighteen. An adult,” I remind him.
“I deserved a call. That way I’m not caught unaware when some asshole reporter reaches out, looking for a reaction from me.”
Shit. I didn’t expect that.
“Why would anyone care? This doesn’t really involve us.”
“Because we’re Lancasters, son. And what we do, people pay attention to, even when we’re only involved on the sidelines,” Dad explains, his tone rough. I can tell he’s losing patience with me.
“Well, it was nothing. I was interviewed, I told my side of the story and what I saw, and that’s the end of it.” I glance upwards at the loft, hearing the telltale sign of the shower running, and I imagine Wren standing under the hot spray of water, her slick, naked body shrouded by steam.
Reaching between my legs, I readjust myself.
“The reporter was kind enough to tell me the story is hitting the papers Monday morning. You will be named as a witness. You will most likely have to testify in court when it goes to trial. I hope you’re prepared to make an appearance,” Dad says.
“I look forward to it. Anything to put that slimeball away for good.” I relish the thought of Figueroa behind bars. It’s what the asshole deserves.
“Where are you anyway? I saw that you used the jet.”
Damn. Busted.
“Vermont.”
“With who?”
“A friend.”
“Don’t you have finals next week?”
“Yeah, so?” I sound like a fucking little kid, but this is what happens when my dad does this sort of shit to me.
I revert.
“So I don’t think it’s wise that you’re out partying the weekend before finals,” he says, anger lacing his tone. “You can’t be a fuck-up during the important moments in your life, Crew. You have to straighten out sometime.”
I press my lips together to keep from saying something I’ll regret.
“You should go back to campus,” he continues. “Study for your finals and make sure your grades are in good shape. You’ve applied to colleges and I’m sure they’re watching you.”
I doubt that. Every single one of them will let me in if my family donates a building in our name or whatever the fuck.
“Right,” I tell him, just to get him off my back. “Okay.”
“Go home,” he asserts. “Tomorrow.”
“Will do.” That was always the plan.
“And keep out of trouble.”
“Always.”
He goes silent for a moment. I’m sure I’ve made him angry. “Are you being flippant with me? You should know better, son. I don’t like it when you give me attitude.”
“I’m agreeing with you. That’s all,” I say, my voice hollow.
Kind of like my heart.
“As long as you understand then. Good night.”
“Night,” I say to nothing.
He already ended the call.
Pocketing my phone, I go to the kitchenette and pull out the bottle of vodka from the fridge, then grab a glass from the cabinet. I pour a healthy amount into it and take a deep swig, swallowing hard before I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.
Fuck, I need another.
Talking to my father always leaves me full of doubt, and I hate it. He goes from completely ignoring me to questioning every move I make, and I end up feeling like a complete fuck up.
I’m not. I’ve got my head on straight, and for the first time in my life, I know what I want.
Wren.
I’m falling for her. I’d do anything for her. Does she know that? Does she realize how important she is to me? I should tell her.
I should. Tonight.
I’ve had a couple of glasses by the time I hear Wren’s sweet voice calling from the loft.
“Crew? Where are you?”
Taking one last swallow directly from the bottle, I leave it on the counter and head up the stairs, pushing my father from my mind. My family. All of it.
I want to concentrate on Wren. No one else but her matters.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I come to a stop, watching Wren as she stands by the foot of the bed, wrapped in one of the hotel robes. Her hair is down, falling far past her shoulders, and her face is scrubbed clean save for a shiny red lip-gloss that’s been applied to her lips.
My dick stands at attention.
“Is that what you got at the store?” I tease her.
She glances down at herself, her mouth curved in a smile. “Not quite.”
“Show me what you got then.”
Wren returns her gaze to mine. “You really want to see?”
I nod.
She reaches for the front of her robe, toying with the cloth belt. “It might surprise you.”
“I love a good surprise.”
Her laughter is soft. Sexy as fuck. “I hope you like it.”
“Drop the robe and let me see, Birdy.”