“He is so incredibly sexy,” Brooke says when the giggling has mostly stopped. Lara nods her agreement. “Last summer, I heard he was seeing that one girl who’s TikTok famous, with like a trillion followers. The one who made a movie?”
“Ugh, I remember. She played all coy and never confirmed it, but I swear I saw photos of them together. She’s disgustingly gorgeous. Of course, he dated her.” Lara rolls her eyes before glancing down at herself. “I could be so lucky to be as thin as she is.”
I take in Lara’s figure as discreetly as I can. She’s very fit. I don’t know why she’s complaining.
“I hear he likes older women,” Brooke says, but I assume she’s only heard gossip about Crew and his supposed preference for older women. I mean really—how does she know? “I can’t remember the last time he was dating a girl who goes here.”
“Freshman year maybe?” Lara nods her agreement.
“What about Ariana?” I say.
They both study me, eerily quiet.
“He went to prom with her last year,” I remind them. “Weren’t they a thing?”
“Oh please. She was a total drug addict. She went to rehab over the summer.” Brooke wrinkles her nose. “He was probably with her to get in good with her dealer.”
Lara laughs, slapping her best friend’s arm. “Brooke!”
“What? It’s true. I know Crew Lancaster likes to partake on occasion.”
How she knows this, I’m not sure, but whatever.
“And like I said, he prefers older women. He definitely doesn’t like girls who go to Lancaster, that’s for sure. Not anymore. Maybe it’s the uniforms?”
I tune them out, glancing down at my uniform skirt, how it drapes over my knees, covering them completely. I hear my father’s voice in my head, always so old-fashioned with his remarks about my appearance. Reminding me I need to keep my skirts at a modest length. No need to show off excess flesh. I’ve been sheltered my entire life, especially after that one painful incident when I was twelve.
When I was young and gullible, and believed everything I was told.
My gaze drops to the stupid shoes on my feet. I remember feeling like they made me seem so stylish, and for a while, I was. The girls here at school considered me a total trendsetter for wearing these shoes.
Now I look at the Mary Jane’s and realize that I look like a child. A little girl with white socks, my bare legs exposed to the chilly air because of “fashion.”
What sort of fashion is this? I look ridiculous.
I am ridiculous. No boy will ever notice me when I look like this.
Certainly not Crew Lancaster.
And since when do I want that particular boy to notice me? He’s horrible.
Yet attractive.
Rude.
Somehow charming.
He doesn’t like me. He basically said that to me, more than once. I don’t like him either. Yet…
I’m drawn to him.
Frustrated, I kick the leg of the table so hard, the entire thing rattles, making the girls’ laughter come to a complete stop.
“Did you just kick the table?” Lara asks me after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“Sorry.” I shrug, not sorry at all. The word just automatically leaves me every time someone calls me out on something. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You know, Wren, you’re actually really lucky, working with Crew on that project,” Brooke says, and I wonder if she’s suddenly being extra nice to me because of my mini temper tantrum.
“How’s that?”
“Well, it’s psychology, right? Does he have to reveal his innermost secrets or fantasies to you? That could be juicy.” Brooke’s eyes are sparkling with excitement at the idea of learning Crew’s secrets.
I don’t want to know them. He’s mean and horrible, and he calls me judgmental? He’s just as bad as I am.
Maybe even worse.
“I doubt he’ll reveal anything to me,” I admit.
They both stare at the diamond ring on my finger, sharing another one of those looks that communicate so much without ever saying a word.
“True,” Lara says, shifting in her seat.
Normal Wren would pretend she didn’t hear that, or see the shared look, like they know something I don’t. She’d try to change the subject or leap from the table and go find someone else to talk to, but I’m not feeling very ‘normal’ right now.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask.
“Well, that ring you’re wearing, for one,” Brooke says, clearly the braver one of the two. She just comes straight out with it, no hesitation.