Page 17 of Don't Puck Him

I look at my watch once my stomach gurgles, and she’s quick to call me out.

“Am I really boring you that much?”

I lick my lips. It is really difficult not to smile around her.

“Have you eaten?"

Wren lets out a laugh that is melodious. She snorts a bit, which makes the expression of it even more authentic and downright cute.

“Why do you care?” Wren asks, leveling me a skeptical stare. When I say nothing, she sighs as she stands up from the table. “Come, let’s get something to eat. I could use a coffee.”

I nod, suppressing a smirk at how the day is turning out – and with hardly any stalking involved. Turns out my pretty little fish doesn’t always need a lure.

Contrary to the way she’s behaved since she got here, it’s starting to seem like she might have a good head on her shoulders, but that is only when she’s within her own habitat. The library and study rooms are where she belongs.

Otherwise, in places where social status is treated like royalty, she still remains that sheepish field mouse.

I follow her out of the library, and rain begins to tap against our shoulders. We speed-walk toward a small cafe. I wonder what Cash would think of me out here, having breakfast with his step-sister, the sworn enemy.

9

WREN

Over the following few days, too many confusing things happen for me to get a good read on Cash’s little buddy.

“Let me get that for you.” A rich, deep voice that’s becoming more and more frequent speaks up from just beside me. His hand reaches around my side, his body looming over me as he grabs a pear from the cafeteria’s basket. He doesn’t even hand it to me, just places it down on my tray.

How did he know I was going to reach for that?There are at least three or four options, but he just sohappensto guess the one that I actually want. I mumble my thanks and as he grabs himself an apple, he mutters something back.

“What was that?” I turn my head toward him, but he’s already backing up.

“I said your shoelace is untied.” I step back from the serving bar and find that he’s right. I put the tray down and shift to the side so I can tie it. As I stand again, I look around, but he’s nowhere to be seen.Huh.

At the start of my study period, I find a quiet spot in the back of the campus library. I’m not worried about being interrupted, so I leave one headphone out, in case any of those assholes decide to try something funny.

I spread out all of my work, preparing to take notes for my English class tomorrow. Reaching into my bag, I pull out my favorite pen. It’s a dark blue ballpoint. The first time I used it, I fell in love with how smooth it wrote.

The sound of footsteps breaks me out of my concentration, and I glance up just to see who’s passing by. From the back, I can’t really tell, other than the hockey jacket slung over their right shoulder. I look back down at my work.Maybe they’ll just leave me alone today… Or hopefully, they don’t even know I’m here and won’t tell Cash.

I have a hard time focusing again, and I bring a hand up to plant firmly on the side of my hair. Tangling my fingers in my hair, I lean on the hand, and the chair in front of me slides out from its position. I look up to the uninvited guest. It’s Hunter.

“This seat taken?” he asks, already sitting down. I don’t bother saying yes, instead just sliding my books off of his new half of the table. He sets down a book of his own but doesn’t open it.

“I’m surprised you would be caught twice in a library,” I say, trying and failing to fight a smile. I finish writing out a note before putting my pen down.

“I was just looking for a book.” He gestures down to the dusty novel. I nod.

“Well now that you’ve found it, what are you still doing here?” I ask, and he gives me a small huff.

“Trying to get rid of me?”

I shrug lightly, pretending to look down at my book. My eyes can’t focus.

“I guess I just thought you would be more worried about Cash finding you with me.” I look up, and there’s something that flashes in his eyes for a second, but almost immediately it dissipates.

He changes the subject. “What are you studying for? School’s barely started.” I tap my book lightly.

“I can tell my teacher isn’t going to take it easy on me,” I say, picking up my pen again. I feel the need to at least pretend I’m doing something. I can tell he’s still staring at me, and I catch myself doodling something small on the bottom of my page just to keep busy.

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