“How was the date with Lissa?” Cammie asks Gus.
I listen to the recap I’ve heard three times today, battling the urge to check on Wren the entire time. She’s not alone; she came with friends. She doesn’t need—or want, I’m assuming after our conversation earlier—my concern.
It simmers anyway, like an itch I can’t scratch or a leak I can’t fix. My ears strain, trying to pick her voice out of the many overlapping sounds in here.
It wasn’t just sex with Wren. It’s never been just sex with her. And what would she say if I admitted that?Ciao? I put myself out there with her; I went over to her house, intending to tell her Ilovedher; and I got obliterated. What is any different now? She’s headed to Europe instead of California? I have a destination, too, rather than flailing around here?
“Hey! Wren!” Wade, the unsubtle idiot, has apparently just realized who all is here.
I don’t follow his gaze. I’m not sure if she’ll come over here or ignore Wade’s yell. I’ve rarely known what to expect with Wren, and my predictions right now are probably particularly inaccurate.
I sense her approach before I see her.
Know for certain she’s headed this way when I hear a guy at the tableone over from ours say, “Hey, gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I have a drink,” Wren’s voice replies while I study the stack of napkins on the table to avoid making eye contact with anyone at my table.
I don’t know if Wade thinks he’s helping me, is thinking with his dick, or is simply stirring up shit for fun, but I’m going to make a list of the most unpleasant marina tasks first thing tomorrow and assign them all to him.
“Then what about your number?”
“Lame line,” Ricky mutters.
“You want my number?” Wren asks.
“Oh, I definitely want your number,” the guy replies.
“And what do I get?”
“Uh, my number,” is the response, setting off laughter and jeers among his friends. “And a hundred bucks for your next round?”
“I’ll think about it,” Wren says.
I still don’t glance up, but I hear chair legs screech before Wade says, “Been a while, Kensington. I wanted to say hi at the marina earlier, but didn’t make it to the parking lot in time. Cap said you’re becoming a member?”
“I changed my mind. I don’t really like boats anyway.”
When I look up, Wren is standing alongside our table. A drink is in her left hand, a hundred-dollar bill in her right.
“You were buying a boat this afternoon,” I drawl. “You still split when shit gets real, huh?”
Wren takes her time looking over at me. “Did you really mean that insult, Cap? Or are you justpretending to give a fuck?”
I hold her gaze as everyone else shuffles awkwardly. Most of them have never witnessed us fight before.
“I’m not that good of an actor, Wren.”
“I thought we weren’t arguing. Or talking.” Wren tosses the hundred on the table. “Good to see you guys. Enjoy a free round.”
Total silence lurks in her wake, like a bubble has been dropped over our table while the rest of the bar continues with its usual commotion.
I rake a hand through my hair before sliding off my stool and striding after her. I pass the guy who asked for her number, who’s gazing mournfully at the hundred she left behind, shooting him a sharp glance that quickly has him refocusing on his friends.
I catch up to Wren and grab her hand without saying a word, tugging her toward the alcove next to the side door.
“Let go of me,” she hisses, and I do.
Wren doesn’t stalk off the second I drop her hand, which is something at least.
