“Oh, I haven’t forgotten you.” Natalie giggles, the sound grating on my nerves. “Want to ditch first period? Go back to my dorm room?”
“Hell yeah,” Ezra says, way too enthusiastically. “Let’s wait a few minutes first.”
“Why?” Natalie pouts. “I want to leave now.”
Ez can’t admit he wants to show off to everyone that Natalie is hanging all over him. He just smiles and kisses her, which turns my stomach.
“Where’s your little bird?” Malcolm asks me, chuckling. “That already a done deal?”
“It never started in the first place,” I lie.
“I thought you were going to keep watch over our sacrificial lamb and ensure she doesn’t tell on us.” Malcolm raises his brows. “Should we be worried?”
“I’ve got it handled,” I bite out, hating that he doubts me.
“You better,” Malcolm mutters. “I can’t afford to get kicked out now. That’ll fuck everything up.”
I ignore him, my gaze snagging on the pretty face that suddenly appears.
It’s Wren, moving down the walkway toward the entrance to school, walking by herself. Not surrounded by her usual posse of freshman girls who consider her their idol. It takes everything in me not to push off the wall and go to her, but I remain in place, letting her approach me.
Her steps are slow, her expression unsure. She doesn’t make eye contact with me for the longest time and I can’t look away from her. I keep my gaze on her face, drinking in her beauty. The pretty green eyes and the pouty lips. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, a snow-white ribbon wrapped in a bow around the base of it, and she has the same thick coat on she wore Saturday.
I wait for her to walk by me, to ignore me as she usually does, which would be fucking infuriating, but she surprises me by coming to stop directly in front of us, ignoring the mocking looks Ez, Malcolm and Natalie are all sending her.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asks, her sweet voice washing over me. She briefly glances in the direction of my friends, who appear ready to burst at her appearance, the idiots. “Privately?”
“Sure.” I push away from the wall and follow her as we enter the building, the cackling of my friends following after us.
Fuckers.
She finds a darkened classroom with an unlocked door and slips inside, and I walk in after her, closing the door behind me. It’s a room that wasn’t used this semester and there’s only a couple of desks inside, along with a podium sitting directly in front of the whiteboards. It’s quiet. Private.
No one should bother us in here.
Wren doesn’t stop walking until she’s in the farthest corner away from the door and only then does she turn around and face me.
“I’m sorry—”
I cut her off with my mouth, kissing her hard. Punishing her for not talking to me for the rest of the weekend. Ignoring me like I didn’t exist. Who the fuck does this girl think she is?
A whimper leaves her and she tries to shove at my chest, but I soften my attack, not just for her, but also for myself.
Because damn, she tastes good. And when I feel her slowly melt against me, her hands tugging on the lapels of my jacket as if she wants to get me closer, I know she feels the same. I press her against the wall as I continue drinking from her lips, sliding my tongue against hers, again and again, hoping I can wipe away any evidence of the evening she just spent with fucking Larsen for good.
I end the kiss first, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m mad at you.”
“It was a rough weekend.”
A snort actually leaves me. “I’m sure Larsen occupied all of your time.”
“I barely talked to him.”
“So you did go to dinner at his parents’ house.” The confirmation is painful.
“Of course, I did. I went with my parents. They expected me there.” She makes a choked sound and leans heavily against me. “They’re getting a divorce.”
“Who? Larsen’s parents?” Who gives a shit?
Wren ducks her head, tucking herself against my chest, her hands resting there, right against my heart. “No. Mine. They told me this weekend. It’s a mess. My life is a mess.”
Ah, fuck.
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.”