Ten minutes of more panicking later, I’m opening the door to a sweaty and puffy faced Wren.
She’s wearing cycling shorts that are way too short and a sports bra, a duffle bag in her hand. Her blond hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and the flyaways stick to her forehead. She looks gorgeous. My smile widens as she walks in, shooting out apologies and waving her hands around frantically.
I stop in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulder and she properly looks at me. Her breathing is still heavy, and it takes her a while to focus on my eyes. She searches my face, not sure where to look but when she moves to my eyes and then to my mouth, she parts her lips.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was at the gym, and I lost track of time. And, God, I smell like ass,” she rambles, everything merging together into one word. She scrunches her nose at herself, shaking her head. I can’t help but laugh.
“It's okay. Just take a deep breath," I instruct and she does. "Areyouokay, though? You seem a little…” I add, giving her another once over.
“Tense? On edge?” I nod sympathetically. “Yeah, my mom has been breathing down my neck all week and I can’t think straight.”
She must have only noticed my hands on her shoulders because she looks at them and then looks at me. I take her in for a few more beats. She gives a sheepish smile and I drop my hands, clearing my throat.
“Do you want to do this another time? We don’t have to right now,” I suggest, letting her follow me into the kitchen. I try and not dwell on the idea that this is the first time she’s been inside of my house and how normal this feels. All the panic and fear that was in my veins earlier has slowly subsided.
“No!” she bursts out dramatically. I raise my eyebrows at her before pouring her a glass of water and hand it to her. She downs it in two gulps and slams it on the countertop. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and sighs deeply. It’s like she’s begging me to fall in love with her.
“Sorry, that was gross. Can I, um, use your shower?”
“It wasn’t gross but yes, you can use my shower.” I grin. “Do you want a quick tour first?”
She nods her head enthusiastically, blowing her hair out of her face. I take her around the kitchen and the living room to the dining area. I avoid Carter’s room and bring her into the den, which I’m lucky I cleaned when I was stressing if she was going to show up at all. I bring her up the stairs and give her a peak into everyone’s bedroom. She laughs at how starkly different Xavier’s rooms is to Evans. Finally, I bring her to my room.
She audibly gasps as she enters. My room is one of the biggest in the house because I was lucky enough to get first dibs. Each wall is painted dark grey, filled top to bottom with movie and hockey posters. My dresser is stacked with books and sports magazines that I’ve hoarded over the years. I was smart enough to empty out most of my mini fridge and fill it with age-appropriate drinks.
“Did you clean this just for me?” she whines sarcastically as she walks over to my pile of books. She looks at them for a minute, running her hand across the hardbacks before turning around, leaning against them.
“This is actually the only room Ididn’tclean. Everyone knows that a clean room means a clear mind,” I admit truthfully as I stalk closer towards her. Her breath hitches as I tower over her, her green eyes staring into me.
“Hmm,” she murmurs, something getting caught in her throat. It dawns on me that this is the first time we’ve been alone in private, and it turns my thoughts irrational. Impulsive. I brush the hair out of her face, my hand barley contacting her forehead, but she tenses.
“Are you surprised?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse and scratchy. She backs up a little, making the dresser shake as she braces her hands at both sides of her.
“Actually, yes."
Quickly, she moves from in front of me and slides behind me, so I’m left to stare at the empty space she left. I turn to see her ruffling through her duffle bag, her ass facing me. “Fuck me,” she groans.Believe me, I want to.
I clear my throat. “What is it?”
She turns to face me, her face scrunched up. “I left my clothes in my locker. You’re just going to have to put up with me smelling like sweat.”
“You don’t smell,” I say quietly. She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “You can just wear something of mine.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to, like, invade your personal space and stuff,” she mumbles, looking through her bag again before dropping it. I’m already looking through my drawers before I reply.
“Yes, Wren, it’s fine. You can invade my personal space whenever you want as long as you let me invade yours.”
She snorts from behind me. "That doesn't seem like a very fair tade," she mumbles.
I return to her with a towel, a white faded tee shirt and some shorts. She picks them up and gives me a smile. I point to the door in the corner of my room. “The bathroom is through there.”
She nods and makes her way to the door. I sit down on my bed with a thump, dropping on my back at all the sexual frustration in my body. I drag my hands down my face, sighing.
“I don’t usually do this…” she says softly. I sit up to see her with her hand on the handle but her body facing me.
“What? Shower at your fake boyfriend’s house?”
“Yes, but I mean I’m usually more put together than this,” she laughs, practically grimacing at herself.
