Wren doesn’t have to thank me. Not ever. I tell her, “I’m sure things would have worked out fine.”
She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve never been in a situation like that before, so it was all new to me. I barely remember what happened, but… I remember you. You were so calm. You knew exactly what to do, and you helped me out so much with my other professors. Last semester would’ve been torture if it wasn’t for you.”
“Well, you still don’t have to thank me. I only did what was right.” Not something I could say often, and it’s also not fully true. My actions that night were guided by the fact that helping her would ingratiate me into her life and get her to trust me.
Selfish reasons, of course, but in the end, I’m confident it’ll all work out like I plan.
While we eat together, I can’t help but memorize every little detail about her. Sitting this close with her is everything I want, and yet still we’re not close enough. Now, if she was on my lap instead—if we were somewhere private—then it’d be perfect.
Patience. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a bit longer.
We chat while we finish eating, and I even make her laugh a few times. When I hear that bubbly laughter rise from her throat, I want to lean over the table and take those lips as mine. Such an easy sound, so alluring. That laugh is how she should sound. If I have my way, she’d never know another day of anxiety the rest of her life.
As we wrap up our meal, I know I can’t let things end there, but I also am well aware I need to be cautious in how I approach what I plan on saying next. Don’t want to go too hard too soon and scare her off, but at the same time, something must be done.
I need to be closer to her.
“You know,” I start with a grin, “the sub was good, but it’s no replacement for an actual meal off-campus. I’m pretty busy this weekend, but I would love to take you somewhere else—maybe next weekend?”
I think, out of everything I could’ve said, me asking her out is the last thing she anticipated. She stares at me with wide eyes full of disbelief, and her lips part ever so slightly. The wheels turn in her head the same moment that adorable shade of pink returns to her cheeks.
I wonder how flushed she gets when she’s losing herself in the throes of ecstasy.
“Um,” she says, tripping over her words a bit, “are… are you sure? Is that, uh, are we allowed to do that?”
“You’re not in any of the classes I’m teaching this semester, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Though I have the feeling I already have her hooked, I still offer her a way out of this: “But if you’d rather not, I understand.”
“No,” Wren says quickly with a single shake of her head. Her brown hair is a few inches shorter than it was when she left for Christmas break; newly cut, its length looks fuller and still somehow falls past her shoulders. “I just… I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”
I flash her another grin. “For you, I’d get in all the trouble in the world.” She blushes, but in the end she doesn’t say anything, so I hedge, “So, is that a yes? Or a raincheck, at least?”
“If you want to,” she says, her voice soft, hesitant. Clearly she’s not used to being asked out. “I mean, if you have better things to do, I totally get it.” I don’t know if she’s trying to convince herself not to get her hopes up, or if it’s something else making her hesitant.
Like Logan.
“Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll text you once I know when I’m available next weekend? The beginning of every semester is always touch and go.” It’s not a lie, not really. It’s just, you know, this weekend I already have plans, plans I can in no way, shape, or form miss.
Still blushing, Wren says, “Okay.”
I pull out my phone and she rattles off her number. I add her as a contact, and then give her another smile that I hope puts her at ease. “Great. I’ll text you right now so you have mine.” I send her a message that simply says,Hey. I wait until she checks her phone before I add, “If you need anything, you know I’m here for you.”
Can’t lay it on too thickly, not yet. Need to be careful still.Last semester we were in touch through official channels using our college emails, so this is new to us both.
Wren gives me a shy smile. “Thank you. Really, thank you. You’re the only reason I got through last semester.”
“I don’t know about that. You’re stronger than you think you are.”
The smile she gives me after that sticks with me, even after we say our goodbyes and go our own ways. That beautiful, shy smile lingers in my head the rest of the day and well into the night. I am riding cloud nine, happy that I not only have her number, but that we also have tentative plans next weekend.
And this weekend? Like I said, I’m going to be busy. Little miss Wren is going to a party with her roommate. I’ll need to be there to make sure Logan doesn’t make any appearances.
Oh, yes. I’m going to beverybusy this weekend.
Chapter Three – Wren
This party is going to be a weird one. It’s a themed party—devils and angels. The girls are supposed to dress up as angels, while the men dress up as devils. Masks, costumes; nothing is off-limits. Sloane said some people will go all out in fancy costumes, while others will show up wrapped up in bedsheets and do the bare minimum. I guess the fun part is that it doesn’t really matter, as long as you are following the theme, you’re in.
But, since it’s winter time, we have to drive there in Elias’s car. According to Sloane, you don’t wear jackets to the party, only your costumes, and if you bring a jacket it’s likely to get lost or stolen.