“It’s a gorgeous color,” the saleswoman agrees.
“A little big though.” I press my lips together, glancing over at Crew.
He’s watching me carefully. “You like it?”
“Oh, I do. But it’s so expensive. I can’t imagine owning something like this. Not yet anyway.” I smile at the saleswoman who watches me with faint disdain. She takes the bag and slides it back toward her like I’m going to try and steal it. “Thank you for your help though.”
“Of course,” the woman says snippily.
“Let’s get out of here,” Crew mutters, taking my hand. He pulls me out of the store, the two of us laughing once we’ve escaped, though I can see faint scowl lines at the corners of his eyes.
“That bitch was rude to you.”
“It’s fine.” I wave a hand, dismissing her. “She just thinks we’re dumb teenagers wasting her time.”
“Maybe I wasn’t wasting her time. Did she see what I was carrying?” He holds up the Cartier bag. “I can buy out that entire store.”
“Oh stop, Mr. ‘I’m a Very Important Man’ Lancaster.” I push myself into him, sliding my arm around his back. “You sound like such a snob.”
“I am a snob.” He smiles down at me, some of the tension easing from his features. “I don’t like how she treated you.”
“It didn’t bother me.”
“It bothered me.” He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing me to do the same, and he cups the side of my face, kissing me gently. “Why are you so damn nice all the time?”
“Why are you so scowly all the time?” I lift up, pressing my mouth to his, and people dodge past us on the sidewalk, most of them grumbling under their breath. “Come on. Let’s go get a snack.”
“I’d rather snack on you,” he murmurs.
I roll my eyes. “We can’t go back to your place again.”
“Why not? No one is ever there.” He grabs my hand and we resume walking. “I can call Peter. He’d be here in ten.”
I’m hesitant, not because I don’t want to get him alone, but more that I’m worried that’s all he wants from me.
Sex.
His actions don’t say that, but I also need the words.
Desperately.
Crew lets go of my hand so he can tap away on his phone. Sending a text to Peter, I’m sure. Completely oblivious to the war that’s currently raging inside my head.
The doubt pops up every other day or so, when I wonder what exactly Crew is doing with me, and how serious his intentions are. I should be playing the cool girl. The one who doesn’t have a care in the world, who knows how to keep it casual and never be too demanding when it comes to a boy.
But I’m not that girl, and Crew knows it.
By the time we’re in the back seat of the car and Crew is trying to kiss me, I push him away, earning yet another scowl for my efforts.
“What’s wrong?”
I chance a look in Peter’s direction before I return my gaze to Crew’s. “Is this all we’re going to be? Each other’s hook-up partner?”
“Is that all you want it to be?” he asks carefully.
I don’t want it all put on me. I need input from him. I need to know how he feels about me. I can’t make this decision on my own. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, and I’m completely clueless on how to handle it.
“I—”
He cuts me off. “Because it’s not what I want. You really think I want you to be a casual hookup when I’m sending you Chanel lipsticks every day?”
“I don’t know how any of this works.” I feel helpless. Worse?
I feel dumb.
“I’ll tell you how it works. At least with me.” He slips his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side, so he can whisper in my ear. “There’s this girl, you see. She’s sweet. Beautiful. I don’t know how she tolerates an ass like me, but she seems to like me all right. And I really, really like her.”
Warmth spreads through my veins and my heart swells.
“This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to spend all of my time with a girl, and it’s leaving me feeling…consumed. I can’t stop thinking about her. All I want to do is make her smile. Make her laugh. Make her like me,” he continues.
I angle my head toward his and whisper, “I do like you.”
Crew kisses me, his lips clinging to mine. “I like you too. And I definitely don’t want you to be a casual hookup.”
Another kiss. This one deeper, with tongue.
“I want you to be mine. And no one else’s,” he whispers against my lips.
I reach for the neck of his sweater, tugging out the chain with my ring on it. I slip my finger into the ring and gently pull, staring up at him. “No one else has this.”
“I know. It means you belong to me. I already told you that.”
“I just feel…unsure sometimes,” I admit.
He gathers me closer, until I’m practically in his lap. I never did put on my seatbelt. “I never want you to feel unsure again.”
“You don’t?” I tilt my head back when he presses his mouth to my throat.
“No,” he murmurs against my skin. “You belong to me.”
He licks the length of my neck, making me shiver.
“And don’t ever forget it.”
FORTY-NINE
WREN
I wake up on Christmas Eve to my mother rushing into my room, her eyes wide, her white silk robe billowing behind her.
“You have a gift,” she announces.
Rubbing my eyes, I blink at her, still half asleep. “Where is it?”
“I couldn’t carry it into your room. You’ll have to come out and see it.” She is giddy, practically jumping up and down in one place. And giddy is never a word I use to describe my mother.
I leave the bed and pull on the hoodie that’s draped over the back of my desk chair, then slip my feet into the slippers I got for Christmas last year. I follow Mom and she leads me into the foyer where a large brown box is leaning against the wall right by the door.
“Is it one of your paintings?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Your name is on it. I had to sign for it.”
“Maybe it’s the piece I bought from Hannah Walsh.” Though I was told it wouldn’t be delivered until the beginning of the new year.
Mom goes to the nearby console table and pulls a drawer open, withdrawing a box cutter. “Let’s open it.”
“Wow. You’re prepared,” I say with a huff.
“I’m opening boxes like this all the time.” She pushes up the blade and goes to the box, careful as she cuts it open. I watch, anticipation curling through my veins, curiosity leaving me stumped.
I seriously have no idea what’s inside this box.
“Do you think it’s from Crew?” I ask, not wanting to get my hopes up.
Hasn’t he given me enough already?
“It came from a different delivery service, so maybe not,” Mom says as she slices the box open with the blade. “Oh, I think it’s a painting.”
She pulls at the cut cardboard, tossing it aside.
“It’s not large enough to be the one I bought,” I say, staring at the canvas wrapped in white.
“Tear it off and let’s see what it is!” My mother is practically vibrating with excitement. This is the kind of thing she lives for.
My mind is scrambling, but I’m drawing a complete blank. I have no idea what this could be or who it’s from.
Crew has sent me plenty, so I doubt it’s from him…
“If you don’t open it, I’m going to open it for you,” she finally says, reaching for the painting.
“Hey, that’s mine.” I push her out of the way with my hip, making her laugh.
Carefully, I pull the gauzy wrap from the painting, which isn’t really a painting at all. My heart’s starting to race as it’s slowly revealed and my hands begin to shake. I recognize it immediately, of course. The lip prints in multiple colors on white canvas, how they almost cover the entire space. The way all of those lips clustered together seem to undulate.
It’s the piece I’ve wanted for so long.
My heart is beating so fast, it threatens to pop straight out of my chest.
I rest shaking fingers to my lips, tears springing to my eyes the longer I stare at it. Is this moment even real right now? “Oh my God.”