“Don’t let me stop you,” I mock. I gesture towards Evan, bowing down to him. “How are you your highness?”
He flips me off before brushing his hand through his blonde hair. If he thought the royalty jokes were over by now, he has another thing coming. He doesn’t seem to fit into this house at all. He’s always upstaging us with his glamours outfits for ridiculous occasions. I don’t mind it, though. He’s probably the reason why this house is still on all its legs.
“I’d be fucking perfect if you could tell him to stop putting eggs in the fridge,” Evan groans, looking as if this argument has been going on for hours. Sometimes I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not, but I think better than to question it.
“This might not be my house anymore, so I shouldn’t be barking out orders,” I reply, trying to make light of my situation as I pluck a beer from behind him. I slide off the cap and take a swig, letting the cooling sensation run through me.
“What do you mean? Is that why you were with Hacks?” Xavier asks. I hate that he was the one to shorten the deans name to that. He always shortens any word that comes out of his mouth. It’s almost as if he can’t bear to say words that are more than three syllables long.
“Yeah, apparently her and coach decided that I can’t play until I’m doing better in my class and doing better overall,” I sigh, leaning against the countertop.
“Shit. That sucks,” Evan says, dipping crackers into his weird cheese. Xavier and I look at it at the same time and our eyes connect. I put my tongue in my cheek to force myself not to burst out laughing.
“Yeah, we can’t lose our best player,” Xavier adds. “I was gonna to ask if you wanted to go Ryan’s party tonight but if you’re bummed out, we can chill here. Which is kinda what we’ve been doing all summer.”
I think about it for a minute. I could go and enjoy myself and stop thinking for once or sit at home and wallow in my own pity and think about him. I know which one will be more fun. And I need to have some sort of interaction with humans that aren’t either eating strange cheese or topless before I start to lose my sanity.
CHAPTER 3
MILES
Apparently, Ryan Redmond’s parties are yearly events. According to Evan’s ‘inside sources’ Ryan has been at NU for almost six years and no one really knows why. I bother to ask why more questions and brought a six pack of beers with me to his house. Evan stayed at home to study, which is what I should be doing. One last night out won’t hurt. Will it?
Parties like these are where I’ve been wasting away my nights drinking cheap beer until I can’t see straight. There’s something so strangely comforting about intoxicated and happy strangers. It makes this whole ‘moving on’ thing feel less daunting.
I take the beers I brought into the kitchen and grab myself a cold one out of the fridge, trying to get away from the music for a second. I take a long gulp too quickly that I start coughing over the sink. I gasp and splutter as I try to breathe normally again. A soft hand comes to my back, and I shiver at the contact, still finding a way to catch my breath.
“Woah there. Take it easy,” the calming voice says from behind me.
I turn and I see her.
The same girl from the photo's blinks up at me. The same blurry face I saw coming out of the dean's office earlier today. And, now in the dimmed lighting, I’m reminded of the hallways between the skating rinks. If my memory isn’t that foggy, she’s probably the same figure I see passing through the rinks; always practicing until late and getting shouted at a tall skinny dude who’s probably her coach. I rack my brain around, but I can’t remember what her name is, but she must be Hacks’ daughter.
The resemblance between her and the girl in the photo is uncanny. The same blonde that had me mess up one of my games because I was stood watching her for a little too long. Just from watching the way she moved on the ice, she effortlessly trapped me in a trance. I try to swallow as I take her in. She’s still a little blurry but I can make out her satin black dress which she must be freezing in, and her hair tied in a large clip behind her head. She throws me a puzzled look, but I don’t have the energy to stop staring.
I take my time to memorise the curve of her neck and collarbones before she reaches around me. What? When did she get this close? How long have I been staring? Her face is so close to mine that her vanilla perfume hypnotises me. I don’t move as I drink in her fresh smell of soap and lavender. She laughs quietly and the sound is so heavenly I restrain myself from drinking her in even more.
“Sorry. I’m just looking for some water,” she says with a nervous chuckle. I snap out of my trance and realise I’m blocking the fridge. I move out of the way and watch as her delicate arms reach for a bottle.
“You’re the dean’s daughter, right?” I ask, clearing my throat. She freezes, pushing a strand of hair out of her face before flashing a shy smile and coming to face me.
“That’s me,” she replies with a bored expression. I can tell she doesn’t really want to speak to me but that makes me want to talk to her more. I’m not sure why but I hold out my hand.
“Miles Davis,” I say. She hesitates before slipping her gentle hands into mine. Small electric shocks travel up from where our hands meet to my brain.
“Wren.” She pulls back her hand, gripping onto the bottle. She stands gingerly next to the counter, just out of reach. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I fold them across my chest.
“I saw you outside her office today, right?” I ask. She hums in response, opening the bottle and taking a sip. “What did you do to land a meeting with her?”
I can tell she doesn’t want to answer my question. She backs up further to the counter, mirroring my position with her arms across her chest, unbeknownst to her, slightly pushing her boobs up. I keep my eyes focused on her eyes; green and brown swirled within them.
“I’ve had a pretty shitty day and my friends were supposed to help me fix it. Instead, I’m here, so excuse me if I don’t want to talk about it,” Wren explains, sighing. Her voice is silky and relaxed. Almost tired but fierce. Less strained than I thought it would be. Is it bad that I could listen to her talk forever?
“Does your shitty day have anything to do with your meeting with the dean?” I press, wanting to know more. Something in me can’t tear my focus away from her. I need to find some way to keep her talking to me. She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. The sound reverberates through me, instantly sending goosebumps across my arms.
“Do you always ask strangers this many questions?” Wren retorts, pushing off the counter, her stance defensive. Her face searches mine for something but when she comes to nothing, her shoulders drop.
“Just the ones I’m curious about,” I drawl, and I swear I catch her rolling her eyes. “Besides, we’re not strangers if we know each other's names. If you tell me about your bad day, I’ll tell you about mine. Deal?”
