Wren is the first to break the silence between us, “So, what do you want?”
Everything, but I don’t say that. Don’t want to overwhelm her like I overwhelmed her the last time I visited this house. Instead, I don’t exactly answer her question. “I miss seeing you all the time. It was like everywhere I looked last semester, you were right there, every time.”
“Yeah, well, none of that was on purpose.”
I look at her, taking in how she sits, how her arms are folded over her chest. Those baggy grandma clothes… I used to make fun of them, but now all I can think about is how badly I want to take them off her.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“You didn’t come over just to ask how I’m doing.”
“No, but I still want to know. I… I should’ve been there for you after the accident. I really am sorry I wasn’t.”I should’ve fought harder for you, but I’m a pussy.Somehow, that particular sentence dies before it has the chance to come out.
Wren sighs and shakes her head once. “I’m fine. Better than I was last semester. Last semester was… not good, in more waysthan one.” When she says that last part, she shoots me a glare. Her walls are up. What happened the last time was too much, too fast. She wasn’t ready for it. She doesn’t believe I’m here for any good reason, and I can’t blame her for thinking that. I haven’t given her reason to trust me at all.
The old me would’ve made excuses for past me’s behavior, but all I tell her right then is, “I’m glad you’re doing better. Last semester was rough, especially for you. I was worried you’d transfer somewhere else or something.”
She rolls her eyes. “As if you really would’ve cared.”
“Yes, I would’ve.” I angle my body toward hers, but she stares straight ahead, not looking at me. “I know I don’t have your trust. I know you don’t believe anything I say, and I can’t force you to. I just… I want you to give me a chance.”
That finally gets her to turn her gaze toward me. “And why do you deserve a chance?”
“I don’t.” My bluntness makes her blink, but she doesn’t say anything, so I plow on, “I don’t deserve another chance. Hell, I didn’t deserve the first, and I fucked that up pretty fast. Used to be I never gave a shit, but with you, I mean it when I say things are different.”
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“And you have every right to think that.” A part of me was hoping, prior to coming here, that she’d melt instantly and give in. That we’d somehow wind up so entangled in each other that the only logical thing to do would be to take things upstairs, undress, and devour each other.
But that’s fairytale shit, and my life is no fairytale.
“Logan,” she says, “why did you come here?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper, and I toy with that paper for a few moments before I lean over and hand it to her. Or, I offer it to her, and she stares at it like it’s some trick to get into her pants.
It’s not. I mean, if I get into her pants because of it, that’d be a benefit, sure. I’d never be able to resist a benefit like that.
“What’s that?” When I don’t answer her, she grumbles quietly and snatches it from my hand. Within a few seconds, she has it unfolded and she’s reading the flyer. I know exactly what it says, because I stared at it for a long time before calling and signing up for a slot.
Open mic night at the same karaoke bar she and I sang together at.
She frowns slightly. “What the heck is this?”
“It’s an invitation. I signed up for a slot. It’s at ten fifteen. I know the last time we were there, shit really hit the fan, but I really would like it if you came.” I still have to get some guitar riffs nailed down for the song, but I’m getting there. The lyrics are pretty much as polished as they can be. I don’t know that I’m ready to get up on a stage by myself, but…
But I will, because the song is for her.
“You really think I’d come to this?”
“I hope you will. I can’t force you, but… but I really do want you to come.”
“And why should I? Why should I show up and support you when you did nothing to support me when I needed help?” She shakes her head once and mutters, “You’re such a hypocrite. Even now you think I’ll just trip and fall over my own feet to worship you like you’re used to all your groupies doing. Why don’t you get one of your other girls to show up and cheer you on?”
With everything I told her last semester, she has every right to say that, every right to assume, but she couldn’t be more wrong. “There are no other girls for me,” I say, and I say it so quietly it’s hard to hear. “There’s only one, and right now she wants nothing to do with me. Rightfully so. I’m a fuckingasshole, but I’m trying to be better for her. I’d do anything for another chance, if she’ll give me one.”
Finally, there’s a crack in her steely exterior. Her shoulders slump somewhat, and her fingers don’t clutch the flyer as hard as they did moments ago. The expression in her eyes isn’t as distant, and the sigh she lets out right then is soft, quiet, the kind of sigh someone gives when they’re giving in.
Or maybe that’s just me being strangely hopeful.
