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I had purposefully been brushingoff Ames’s attempts to invite Wren and me over to the house, trying to ease Wren into the idea of a relationship with me before revealing it to our friends. Not that they’d be surprised. Ames already knew my plans, which meant Alex already knew, and Dev had known just as long, especially after my admission during our sparring session. Wren may have been able to fool herself into thinking that they wouldn’t notice, but I knew better. They -we- were good at our jobs, which meant there would never be any secrets kept between the five of us.
But despite my efforts, delaying our codependent friend group from meeting up only lasted a few days. Ames laughed at the term when I used it on the phone that morning, during her daily attempt to get us together for another dinner at her house. I only picked up because Wren was in the shower, knowing if she heard me talking to Ames we wouldn’t get out of the house without a firm plan to meet up.
“I don’t get why you’re so hesitant.” I heard the quiet whirr of her pottery wheel in the background, her question echoing through the studio space Alex had created for her in their backyard.
I wished I had an answer that made sense, but it was just a strange sort of worry coiled in my gut that had me keeping our distance from everyone else.
“It’s too early,” was all I could think to say, even though that barely mattered. Wren was mine, had been mine since I first saw her at that concert, even if it took me months to admit it, to act on it. And I knew our friends wouldn’t care either. Hell, Alex had bought Ames a house before she even knew his name, and they had gotten engaged after only a few months of dating. I was sure Dev would work just as fast when he found someone who caught his eye, though he’d been tight-lipped about any potential girlfriends when Ames and Wren pestered him.
“Bex, you have to bring her around sometime,” Ames argued. “She’s going to think something’s up if I don’t invite her over soon. She’s texted me twice already, asking why I’ve been so busy.”
“Fine,” I grumbled into the phone, “We’ll see you tonight. But you owe me a coffee.”
I hung up at the sound of Ames’s laughter, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I walked toward the bedroom, making sure to avoid the piles of clothes Wren tended to leave on her floor. I kept going until I stood in the doorway to her bathroom, watching her body move behind the fogged-up glass of the shower. It took her a few moments to notice me standing there, her eyes closed as she scrubbed shampoo in her hair. She jolted when she noticed me watching her, but her shock faded into a smile just as quickly.
“Hi, creep.”
I stuck my tongue out at her insult, making her laugh as she ducked her head back under the water. “We’re going to my sister’s house for dinner.”
“Yay!” Wren grinned as she rinsed her hair, the long, black sheet falling to her waist. “I’ve been missing them.”
A handful of hours later, we drove toward Ames and Alex’s house, the winding roads less familiar now that I lived with Wren. Though they’d likely become second nature again soon, if my plans worked out.
Either way, all I could focus on was the tendril of anxiety that had wound itself tighter and tighter since my phone call with Ames this morning. Wren had noticed, her lips flattening every time she caught me with my fingers tangled in the ends of my hair. Eventually, I’d braided it, keeping it tied down my back so I wouldn’t feel tempted to twist the strands.
My worry wasn’t our friends. They likely already knew what had happened between Wren and me - at least they knew it was coming - and I felt confident they’d be happy for us. Ames, because my sister would do anything to see me happy, and I was sure she knew Wren made me happier than I’d been in years. Alex, both because all his emotions revolved around my sister’s and because he knew I’d protect Wren with every last breath in my lungs.
Dev would’ve been my biggest worry, the older brother persona he put on around Wren not an act but a title he took seriously, despite there being no blood between them. But after the not-so-subtle engineering it took to make sure I walked in on Wren masturbating in her bedroom - not to mention his help with my latest project involving Wren - I was convinced he supported our relationship.
No, my worry was that I’d been imagining the connection bonding Wren to me, the one that made my heart beat in sync with hers as it whisperedmineeach night, her back pressed to my chest as she slept. That what I saw as lasting she saw as temporary, a fraying string of yarn connecting us rather than the chain of iron that shackled my heart to hers.
I knew she was happy. She laughed and smiled often, and while those weren’t unusual actions for her, it felt different knowing I was the one forcing that laugh up her throat, making her teeth peek between her lips in a grin. She never rejected my advances or the encroachment on her space I’d slowly implemented over the last few days. She laid tense in bed each night until I tucked myself in behind her; only then would she let out a quiet sigh and snuggle in closer, falling asleep within minutes. But I didn’t know what that meant, whether she would’ve appreciated any warm body in her bed or if it was mine that made the difference. I didn’t know what thoughts about us ran through her mind, mostly because I was still too nervous to ask.
She sometimes looked at me with the same tentative worry in her eyes from back when I ignored her presence, taking me back to all the ways I’d tortured her. I tried to regret it. I thought about apologizing for it a dozen times as Wren laid across my chest at night, spent and sated. But I was too selfish, recognizing that Wren would’ve never been mine otherwise.
It was nice to think I could’ve wooed her gently, that I could have slowly won her over after recognizing her that first night at Alex’s house. But at the time, I was still too raw, flailing after my arrest, my fight with Ames, and my sudden homelessness. I would’ve ruined us before we began, unleashing my off-balance, self-destructive tendencies, tearing us apart. But in this universe, in this timeline, Wren had already seen my worst, been exposed to every terrible, intrusive thought I’d had and met each head-on.
At first, I had worried that Wren would - had wanted her to - suddenly tuck tail and run, realizing she’d befriended wolves in sheep’s clothing. I wanted her soft heart, which I had imagined full of tender flower petals, easily bruised and crushed underfoot, to grow frightened of the company she kept. I wanted to return to normal, when every moment wasn’t spent looking for ways to simultaneously receive and ignore Wren’s attention. Instead she’d revealed a heart full of petals and thorns, precious but protected, keeping me on my toes and making me regret every moment I’d spent wishing her away.
Driving to dinner, I worried all my previous wishes would suddenly come true and I’d be lost, forced to chase Wren down and bring her back, kicking and screaming, begging her to want me the way I needed her. I was too far gone to let Wren leave me, my claim on her enough to make me willing to do irrational, unethical things to keep her by my side. But I preferred to keep her there by choice, not by force, and something in my gut told me that this dinner was crucial. That however it went with our friends would paint the picture for the rest of our relationship, and I was left to stew in my thoughts the whole drive.
I didn’t realize we had made it to the house until the car was already in park, having driven there on autopilot the last few miles. I glanced over at Wren, expecting her to be looking at me with exasperation as I ignored her chatter in favor of my own thoughts. It happened occasionally, Wren reaching over to swipe a hand in front of my face before rolling her eyes and repeating herself with an amused smile. But she was still looking out the window, lost in thoughts of her own until my hand reached out to touch her shoulder.
Her eyes were haunted with the same worried, unsure look that I felt on my own face, and it only squeezed my stomach tighter, made my blood race until I could barely hear anything over the nervous pounding of my heart. It only slowed when Wren held my hand as we walked up the steps to the front door.
Her dainty hands held scars of their own, tangible evidence of Wren’s strength, the strength that she’d been trying to prove to me over the past weeks. I liked the feel of her palm against mine, the calluses and scrapes from her work brushing against my own. I’d taken to holding it over the last few days, resting our entwined fingers on her thigh as I drove, pulling her close to me as we walked around stores and restaurants, staking my claim on her as mine.
She never resisted, allowing me to pull her closely whenever I wanted, puckering her lips for kisses when I palmed the back of her neck, and wrapping her fingers around mine when I held my hand out for her. Wren never cared about our surroundings, turning her focus on me like a flower toward the sun. It felt fucking powerful, knowing I was the reason for her smiles, that her attention was so attuned to me.
So when she dropped her hand from mine as she walked through the front door, leaving me behind her, I didn’t feel how I expected. I had tried to prepare myself, worked myself up to the idea that making Wren mine would take more than a date and some hand-holding. I told myself her rejection would feel disappointing, a small step back in a longer journey toward what I wanted. I hadn’t expected to feel fucking obliterated, like Wren was the sun I revolved around and without her I had no reason for existing.
I stood there for a moment, feet planted in the entryway as Wren did a cute, excited hop-skip across the floor in an effort to reach our friends faster. I’d usually have to fight a smile at the motion, her excitement to see the people she saw multiple times a week so earnest, soWren. But this time it only made a sour taste rise in the back of my throat. She was excited to see our friends, happy to be here, without a thought to the devastation she left behind her.
I tried to pinpoint exactly where the breakdown was, treating the problem like one at work, but my thoughts were too muddled to think reasonably. Was she embarrassed of me? Unwilling to tell our friends? Done with me already?
Regardless of her reasoning, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I sensed the off-balance feeling as it built in my chest, making me want to do something reckless, and gave into it. I took a few long, angry strides behind Wren, grasping her by the wrist and spinning her around just as she reached the kitchen. Her smile fell when she saw the anger on my face, and I watched emotions flicker across her face, from excitement to confusion to worry within seconds.
