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She only shrugged, but I watched as her thighs rubbed together, her arousal piqued at the idea of us playing again. “It only seems fair.”
“Hmm,” I hummed. “I listed three promises to you, so I suppose it’s only fair that I give you three as well.” I tapped my lip with a finger as I pretended to ponder what I wanted. I ticked each request on my fingers as I listed them off. “You’ll tell your parents - and everyone else - I’m your girlfriend.”I’d buy her a collar if that’s what it took for everyone to know she was mine.“You’ll move in with me whenever I ask.” Wren’s eyes widened at the second task, surprise coloring her features at my planning for the future.I’m not thinkingthatfar ahead,I wanted to tell her, but managed to keep my thoughts to myself. “The last one I’ll leave up to you. Whoever proves their affection best wins.”
“My job revolves around romance, Bex. You have no chance.” I had missed the fire in her eyes, her excitement at the competition between us. So I couldn’t help but taunt her with the same words that began our games weeks ago.
“You want to bet, little bird?”
Chapter21
Bex
Our newest competitionstarted out with small tokens of our affection, normal gifts and things that couples would do for each other in a relationship. I brought Wren coffees and breakfast in bed, waking her up with kisses across her exposed back as she sprawled across the sheets. Wren added another photo of me to her wall of pictures, using a picture Ames had taken a few nights before. I had Wren on Ames’s kitchen island, standing between her spread knees while I cupped her cheek.
Our competitive nature didn’t allow us to keep things small-scale for long, and our gifts quickly grew in size. Wren thrifted me a pair of leather boots with a floral design similar to the tattoo across my back. I used a connection to find Wren a rare, exotic orchid she’d mentioned wanting to Ames weeks ago, when I was still set on scaring her away. I’d eavesdropped on their conversation, as I often did just to punish myself, and rolled my eyes at the idea of a plant bringing Wren so much pleasure. But after watching the awe take over her face when I handed her the flower, I understood.
Wren upped the ante first, coming home after spending the afternoon with Dev, a wide grin on her face. After so many weeks of trying to force that look off her face, the emotion killed me now, in the best way. Knowing I was part of the reason she felt so content, even when she had a target on her back, made me feel powerful. More powerful than the disregard and petty bullying I’d used to make myself feel in control before.
I set aside the dinner I’d been making, picking Wren up and placing her on the counter so I could reach her lips more easily. She allowed me to kiss her for a while, until her excitement finally spilled over, and she hopped back down to the floor. She took a couple steps back, trying to avoid my hands as I reached for her, giggling at my attempts to crowd her back onto the countertop.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said finally, making me freeze as she rolled onto her tiptoes in her excitement before falling back onto the balls of her feet. She lifted up her shirt, and I thought for a moment she might be flashing me for the hell of it – something I’d both enjoy and expect from Wren – before I noticed the plastic wrapped around a freshly inked tattoo. “What do you think?” she asked.
I didn’t respond, too busy taking in the art drawn across her skin. The flower was the size of my palm, stretching across Wren’s ribcage, the edges ending just below her breast. It was black and white, delicate petals wrinkled at the edges of a black center. The poppy was minimalist and fine-lined, done in a similar style to the splay of flowers stretched across my back.
“It’s not, like, a matching tattoo,” she reassured me as she dropped her shirt down to cover her skin. I tugged it back up, keeping my eyes on the fresh ink etched into her skin, linking her to me even if she claimed the opposite, every part of me warming at the sight.
She twitched at my continued perusal, telling me, “I’ve always wanted a floral tattoo, and I thought a poppy would be best because that was one of the flowers I put in that first bouquet Alex bought for Ames. So, it kind of started our whole thing,” she waved her hands in the air, as if such a subtle move could encompass our relationship and her friendship with the rest of our crew. “And I love your tattoo so much…I showed a picture to the tattoo artist, and she said she could do something in the same style, and I thought it would be funny, for the bet,” she continued to ramble, eyes cast down, embarrassed, like I may be reading something into her tattoo. And I was reading into it, like it was a holy text, its implications my new religion.
Wren caught me a couple days later getting dressed, rushing over to hold my hips in place, keeping me still with my back to her. Her eye line was right there, something I’d considered when the tattoo artist helped me decide on the placement.
“It’s a…” she trailed off, her fingertip lightly brushing over the edge of the bandage covering the ink.
The small, black-and-white image was nestled among the blooms of my previous tattoo, as if it was standing on the thick stem of one of the flowers. It was life-sized, smaller than the size of my palm, its beak pointed toward the middle of my back. The artist had done a great job making the new addition cohesive with my previous tattoo, keeping the minimalist style.
“A wren,” I finished for her, turning around and tilting her chin up so she met my eyes. “But it’s not, like, for you,” I told her, smiling, using a variation of the words she spoke to me a few days earlier. I leaned closer, putting my lips to her ear as I whispered, “Except that’s a lie, because it is for you. A little bird for my little bird.”
Wren couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, which meant Ames knew about my tattoo by the next afternoon. She stopped byIn Bloomto have lunch with us after teaching a morning class over atJuniper Pottery, Wren immediately lifting her shirt before doing the same to mine.
“Hello to you, too,” Ames laughed, stepping closer to see what Wren was so eagerly trying to show her. She kept quiet, perusing both tattoos for a couple moments before smiling. “You two are so cute,” she said, winking at me when Wren wasn’t looking.
After a lifetime of her by my side, I could read what her wink said.You’re in deep. I love it. I’m happy for you. I only shrugged, unable to respond to any of her silent accusations, because they were all accurate.
“Just do me a favor and don’t show Alex for a while. He’ll probably tattoo my name down his spine and tape a silver envelope to it.” She rolled her eyes, then seemed to reconsider, her face adopting a thoughtful expression, “Actually, maybe do show him.”
She grinned as she wiggled her eyebrows, making both Wren and me laugh. I didn’t bother telling her that Alex had already asked me for tattoo shop recommendations. Dev had driven Wren to her tattoo appointment and then immediately told Alex all about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came home with Ames’s fingerprints tattooed across his heart.
* * *
I hadto give Wren credit - she committed. After we showed our tattoos to Ames, Wren called her parents, speaking to them in a burst of Mandarin before switching to English, introducing me over FaceTime to a kind-looking couple that gave me smiles much more reserved than the unrestrained ones I was used to receiving from their daughter. But either way, they seemed happy for us, promising to call again in a few days.
Wren continued holding my hand in public but also in front of our friends. I wasn’t surprised by her clinginess, considering her personality, but I still reveled in it, warmth in my chest every time she crawled into my lap or wrapped her arms around my waist.
It helped me understand my future brother-in-law even more, the words he’d spoken in Ames’s ear at their engagement party.You’re lucky I waited this long to see my ring on your finger.
Because even though I’d spent months trying to hate Wren, trying to drive her away to settle the off-balance feeling she roused in me, being with her was everything. Having her, even for such a short time, felt like years in the making. It was as if every decision I’d made in my life led me to her, led me to this moment, to making her mine. I wanted to prove she was mine, make sure everyone knew it, some base instinct telling me to mark my territory beyond the flower she’d already permanently etched on her body.
I didn’t have to spend time with Wren to know she belonged with me, to know she was it for me. I wasn’t worried about regretting my tattoo in honor of her, because it would end up being a tattoo in honor of my wife. It didn’t take years to recognize the connection between us as a lasting one, something I knew Alex understood.
Later, after Wren introduced me to her parents, Alex and I stood in the backyard talking about updates on Alfie’s threat and new information from Dev about the Cillian job. We watched as Wren and Ames dug in the dirt of Ames’s garden beds, tearing out the last of the fall crops.
