"You're too kind, Wren. I was nowhere near making it pro," Mr Hackerly replies, shaking his head.
I almost choke on air as I spit out, "Kind? I'm sorry to tell you this, Sir, but your daughter is everythingbutkind."
Wren glares at me as her dad laughs. "Iamkind. People are delighted to meet me."
"Delighted? No. Frightened, maybe." I shrug, hiding my smirk. She pokes me in my rib and returns her attention back to her dad, asking him about his hockey career again.
Of course, Wren gets what she wants, and her dad forgets about the cream cheese debacle and tells me all about his days as a young athlete in nearly every sport. It’s no wonder Wren likes working out so much.
I laugh at his terrible jokes and ask him follow up questions. You know, playing the part. Wren eats up every second of it, smiling at me like she wants to hug me and kill me at the same time.
Mr Hackerly disappears again, speaking to some reporters.
“So, what do you think to my dad?” Wren asks, her head resting in her hand on the table. She looks at me with dreamy eyes and I can tell she's exhausted.
“He’s nice. Kind.Verydifferent to your mom,” I admit.
“Yeah, she can be pretty intense,” she replies. “It’s nice to have a balance.”
“I can see where you get it from — both sides of your personality. You’re brutal and really fucking hard core but you’re a little softie on the inside,” I coo, scrunching my nose up at her. She rolls her eyes before smothering her smile in her hand, trying to hide it. “See?”
We melt into my favourite kind of conversation: the one where we get to learn more about each other. She talks more about her sister and what a good cook she is. She over-explains her dynamic with Kennedy and Scarlett, telling me what their sun, moon, and risings are.Whatever the fuck that means.
In return, I tell her about me and Carter as kids and how we created our own annual Olympic tournament called the Reyes-Davis Games. I avoid talking about my parents for obvious reasons and instead tell her about how I peed myself at my first hockey game as a kid. She listens intently, slowly leaning into me as I speak. Until the dark-haired boy comes into my view again.
I give him, what I hope to be, a look to back away, but he stalks closer, his face twisting into an evil grin. He’s just seconds away from our table, his eyes completely focused on Wren’s exposed back. I have to do something.
Instinctively, I hook my finger into her chair and pull her closer into me, our legs basically intertwined. She yelps as I interrupt her rant on what my zodiac sign means about me. I put my hand onto the exposed skin on her shoulder and she looks at my hand and then back at me.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly, her wide eyes searching mine. He’s practically here at this point.
Fuck it.
I grab her face between my hands, and I kiss her.
CHAPTER 16
WREN
Ican feel myself melting into him. His large hands slip around my neck, his fingers curling in my hair as he dips my head back, deepening the kiss. Our mouths move against each other in sync. Like we were made to do this. For each other.
Miles Davis is kissing me and I'm kissing him back. What is this life?
I hear myself whimper softly when he slips his tongue into my mouth, but I don’t act like I didn’t. Instead, I hold onto the lapels of his blazer and pull him into me until he can’t move any further.
I’m sure this is more than just pretending to kiss. More than putting on a show for whoever is watching. But for some reason, I don’t seem to care. I don’t care that I’m enjoying it. The only thing I can focus on his how he feels against my mouth for the first time. It’s not like anyone can see what the inside of our mouths looks like. I don’t know what it looks like either, but it feels like heaven. It feels safe and exhilarating at the same time. I knew we would have to do this one day, but I didn’t expect it to feel so good. I feel him laugh and smile against my mouth when another sound leaves my mouth without permission when his hand dives deeper into my hair.
When did I get so over my head over a kiss?
I pull apart from him.
“What was that for?” I breathe when I’m able to catch my breath. I 'm panting like a dog. He blinks back at me, his mouth parted, and his pupils dilated.
“It was that guy. He was staring at you again and he was about to come over here. I had to give him a reason not to. And would look at that? He’s gone. Sorry, I should have asked first,” he rambles. I can feel the heat rushing up my neck again in waves as I watch his mouth move. That mouth that was just on mine.
“No. It's okay,” I say, our faces still too close. I push further away so our noses aren’t basically touching anymore. “You sure you didn't make that up just so you could kiss me?”
“I wouldn't need to make anything up to get you to kiss me,” he mutters before looking away.
