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WREN
After a long walk in Central Park with Ford, I returned to the apartment to find a text that succeeded in distracting me from Vaughn’s parting words.
LUCIA
Tonight is the night. He’ll be occupied elsewhere.
Once I’ve finalized a time with her, I dip into my group chat.
ME
Meet me in Rogue tonight at 10 pm sharp.
MATT
No fucking way!
LEVI
I can’t believe you pulled it off.
I bark an openly incredulous laugh as my thumbs fly across the screen.
ME
Same, friend!
Once the furor dies down, I get started for the day, intent on grabbing something nice to wear tonight from the fully stocked studio off of the kitchen. The one I rarely visit, content with the handful of items I’d grabbed that first morning.
Don’t pretend you’re notdyingto sift through it, Wren Caputo.
The thought of doing just that makes me grin as I loop my crossbody bag over my shoulder, dropping my credit card and cell inside. Then I slip on a simple pair of dark gray leggings and a plain white t-shirt, swearing loudly when I can’t find my damn Birkenstocks.
Maybe there’s a spare pair in the studio…
When I venture out into the kitchen, there’s no sign of Vaughn or the breakfast I’m accustomed to at this point. My shoulders sag slightly while my stomach grumbles in protest.
Instead of giving in and searching for sustenance, I focus on finding the perfect outfit for tonight, my bare feet padding quietly toward the studio door.
My hand is poised on the door handle when my Birkenstocks catch my eye. They’re sitting by the elevator, and IknowI didn’t put them there.
“If you’ve put pudding in my fucking Birkenstocks, I’ll hurt you, Cactus!”
My words resound through the apartment with silence as my only response. I reach the elevator and peer down into the Birkenstocks, noting with surprise that they’re clean and pudding-free. The sight makes me second-guess myself.
Maybe Ididleave them here…
I slide one foot in, and all hell breaks loose. My Birkenstocks begin topop-pop-poploudly and repeatedly. Vibrations run up my leg and into my body, and I hop back, kicking the offending footwear down the hallway toward a laughing Vaughn, who’s appeared out of nowhere. His tie is unmade—clearly having been disrupted while dressing—and his cell is angled toward me, capturing every second of his ridiculous payback.
“Fucking…priceless!”
I fold my arms over my palpitating chest as I narrow my eyes with a scowl, fully intent on ignoring how damn gorgeous he is when he smiles, let alone when he laughs.
“Har-de-har. Very funny. I almost lost a damntoe!”
His laughter doubles. “It was only a couple of Snappers on the soles of your shoes.” His eyes are filled with a delight I want to see more of when he arches a brow pointedly. “Be grateful it wasn’t pudding in your Prada.”
He straightens as I close the distance between us, watching him through slitted eyes. “I’m guessing this is what you meant when you said you reap what you sow, hmm?”
