“Even when I’m a delinquent?”
She huffs a laugh. “Even then.”
Mom heads upstairs to get ready for her meeting.
Dad straightens from his pose, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “Grab some breakfast and meet me out on the patio. We have a lot more to discuss, including this”—he grimaces—“importantguy.”
For the rest of the day, I attempt to be productive. I clean my room, pack my suitcase, swim a hundred laps, shower, and then spend a ridiculously long time on my appearance. I head back downstairs at quarter of five. Mom is in the living room with Aunt Scarlett, who I haven’t seen since Lili’s engagement party.
“How are you, Wren?” Scarlett asks, standing to give me a hug.
“Hungover,” I admit.
The painkillers eradicated the worst of my headache, but I still feel sluggish. I’ve never overindulged the way I did last night, and I’m not sure if I should be grateful or resentful that Sawyer showing up made it possible. Worse, I have a vague memory of explaining that to him.
My aunt glances at Mom, who’s undoubtedly wearing her disappointed expression.
“I wouldn’t have known,” Scarlett says, winking at me. “You look beautiful. And very grown up. Are you headed anywhere special?”
“No,” Mom answers before I can.
I sigh. “Mom, I promise I’ll be home in an hour. Probably less.”
“Where are you going?”
“A … residential area.”
Scarlett raises her glass of iced tea, but not before I see her smile.
“A residential area,” Mom repeats. “Like a boy’s house?”
I huff. “I told you, he’s not a?—”
Mom raises her eyebrows, making me think that’s not an argument worth having.
“I just need to talk to him,” I state. “It won’t take long.”
“Did something happen to your phone?” Mom asks mildly.
“You should be happy I prefer face-to-face interactions to relying on technology like most teenagers.”
“You’re not a teenager anymore, Wren, as you often point out.”
I sigh. “I amreallysorry about last night. But this isreallyimportant. I need to … thank him.” I fix Mom with my most beseeching, pleading expression.
She purses her lips, and I brace myself for another no. But then she glances at the mantel clock.
“One hour, Wren. Not a minute more.”
“Deal.” I wave goodbye to Aunt Scarlett, then spin toward the doorway.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that boy knew which bedroom was yours last night!” Mom calls after me.
I park on the street in front of Sawyer’s house, then sit on his front stepsagain. I check my phone every few minutes, wary of the ticking clock. Last night, he was home from work by five fifteen.
I’m typing a reply to Gia’s latest text when I hear my name called. I glance up, seeing the black sedan idling along the curb. Gus is in the driver’s seat, waving.
I stand, leaving my phone and walking slowly toward the open window. Facing him isn’t as embarrassing as apologizing to Sawyer will be, but it’s still plenty humiliating. I like Gus. I care about his (likely low) opinion of me.
