“Are you sure your dad will like me?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She looks up at me as she takes a little step back. Her heel almost catches with the carpet, but I pull my hand around her waist to steady her. As if on instinct, her hands come to lapels of my blazer, pulling herself up into me. "Now stop worrying."
“What if I bring up cream cheese?”
“Why would youeverbring up cream cheese?” she asks, the lines of a dimple battling her cheeks.
“I don’t know. I might get nervous and say something about it.”
“If you do, Iwillgo home with someone else tonight right after I murder you.”
With my shitty timing and my even shittier luck, it seems as if I’ve managed to will my worries into existence. From the short time we’ve been in here, there has been this one guy with his eyes on Wren the entire time.
He’s dressed like all the other men in this joint accept he’s one of the few who look our age. Even when we’re sitting my hand tightly around her waist and her head nestled in my shoulder, he still doesn’t stop trying to fuck her with his eyes. Not that she notices.
It turns out these things are pretty boring when you can’t drink. All the people around us are drunk, laughing loudly and finding everything funny. Wren and I are sitting, eating pistachios out of a bowl, waiting for something to happen. Anything.
Wren looks more energised than me, clearly used to these sorts of environments as she looks around with a happy expression on her face.
"Is this what it's usually like?" I ask after another round of silence.
She sighs, slouching back in her chair. "Pretty much. It was better when the girls would come. We'd make up silly games to pass time. It was more of an excuse for us to dress up."
I tilt my head at her in curiosity. "Oh yeah? Like what?"
"Just people watching, making up lives for strangers that we see. Wanna play?"
I'll do about anything to pass the time at this point. "Show me how it's done, baby." I smirk as she shudders.
"Okay. You see that guy over there?" she asks, her gaze setting on a group of men, but one guy in pants and a button down stands out as he's the only one without a blazer. I nod. "Middle class. Divorced his wife because she watched a movie he introduced her to without him. He likes it soft and timid, you know...In bed. But, she was an animal. He couldn't admit it to his buddies so he lied and saidshewas the one who couldn't take his sword of thunder."
I roar out a laugh at the randomness and she does too, smiling at me. "Your brain is brilliant."
"Why , thank you," she mimics coyly. She nudges me in the shoulder. "Now, your turn."
"Okay...the guy next to your guy. He lives a very happy life. Wife, kids, the whole shebang really. But, he has a secret. He probably has a porn collection or something from the way he's fidgeting like that."
"Not bad, Davis. Not bad at all," she says, shaking her head with a grin.
"I learnt from the best."
She gives me one last smile before turning back to the crowd. "Okay, that woman over there with the pixie-cut definitely has twins. I can just tell from the lines in her face. They give her hell but she loves them. She has an older son though, who looks like Schmidt from New Girl and he is for sure robbing her without her knowing. But she'd let him get away with it. Freud and all that."
"How am I supposed to beat that?" I ask, gaping at her but she shrugs. I scan the rom for somebody and then my eyes connect with the creep that has been staring at her all night. "The guy, our age, he's obsessed with you."
"What?" Wren chokes out, almost laughing.
"I'm being serious. He's been eye-fucking you all night."
"Now you're really not understanding the game," she mutters, shaking her head at me like I'm a disappointing kid.
"I'm telling the truth," I challenge, turning to her. Her green eyes narrow at me, trying to figure me out. "It's like he's begging me to strangle him."
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and Wren looks at me with that sexy, evil grin of hers as she tilts her head playfully.
"Jealousy looks good on you, Davis," she murmurs before she turns away from me, leaving us in another round of silence.
“Dad!” Wren exclaims suddenly, pulling my attention away from the pile of pistachio dust we’ve created. She jumps up to embrace a kind looking man in his early fifties. He’s in a dark blue suit and white shirt, not that much taller than me. When she pulls out the hug, she turns to me with the biggest smile I’ve seen on her lips. “This is Miles Davis. My boyfriend.”
