“What am I supposed to do with this?” She lifts the damp, limp shirt.
“Wear it. It’s not see-through.”
Wren shrugs, then tugs my shirt on.
I swallow, hard, as the fabric falls around her thighs. A thin strip of her dress is still visible beneath the hem, but it mostly looks like she’s wearing my shirt with nothing under it, which is not a visual I needed.
We stare at each other, and suddenly, every second I spend around Wren Kensington seems like an increasingly dangerous idea.
“I’ve gotta go.” My phone is periodically buzzing again. At least it’s still functioning post-sprinklers.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I echo, then turn and jog toward the parking lot.
Wade’s sedan is easy to locate; it’s loitering in the same spot as wherehe dropped us off. I can see the back of Gus’s and Ricky’s heads in the rear seat, so I open the passenger door and climb in.
Wade glances over, eyebrows raised as high as possible as he takes in my wet hair and bare torso. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Long story,” I mutter.
It’s short though. I got lost—in Wren.
23
This year’s Red, White, and Blue party feels different from last year’s. I’m eighteen. Considered an adult and mostly treated like one. I’m expected to mingle and make small talk with my parents’ and the Ellsworths’ friends, not just peers my own age. There’s no tent and bar set up on the beach. My cousin Kit was in charge of organizing that, and he’s busy being a parent this summer. His girlfriend, Collins, gave birth to their son a couple of months ago.
The youngest Kensington—Dylan—is cute, but “could put sirens to shame,” according to Bash.
Formerly holding that title always came with a certain degree of freedom. I watched my sister and my cousins head to college and choose careers, knowing my turn was coming but also appreciating how distant it felt. Suddenly, seeing Lili in a serious relationship, watching Kit cradle a baby, and listening to Rory talk about starting law school, it doesn’t feel so far away. Bash has plans too—business school and then starting at Kensington Consolidated.
Then there’s me. A little adrift. I chose a college, but nothing else seems solid.
“Good afternoon, Wren.” My grandfather appears, setting his drink down on the linen cloth covering the high-top table I’m standing next to.
I glance toward Tanner Whitney, sighing when I see him stopped, talking to Thad Lange. Tanner left to grab me a drink from the bar a couple of minutes ago.
“Hi, Grandpa,” I reply carefully, my spine straightening automatically as I meet his steely gaze.
My mom’s parents are warm and welcoming. They spoil Rory and me—along with their other grandchildren—whenever we visit them in Los Angeles or they travel to New York.
My dad’s parents? Very different. Dad’s mother, Elizabeth, died a long time ago. Lili was named after her. And his father? Well, no one would describe Arthur Kensington as warm or welcoming. He’s shrewd. Intimidating.
“This is quite a party,” I add when Grandpa continues a one-sided inspection.
He nods in agreement, taking a sip from a tumbler. It’s filled with amber liquid. Bourbon or scotch probably. Grandpa constantly has a glass in hand at any event I see him at, but I’ve never once seen him drunk. He’s always in control. The type of person you call in a crisis. Someone most avoid challenging.
“Hanson has always had a flair for the frivolous,” he comments.
“Have you been to this party before?” I ask.
“A long time ago. Hanson and I had overlapping business interests.” Grandpa glances to where Aunt Scarlett and Uncle Crew are standing. “Which worked out nicely.”
I steal another glance at Tanner. He’s started this way, two glasses inhand, then spots who I’m talking to and veers an abrupt left.
I sigh. Hopefully, a member of my family will come over and rescue me soon, but I’m stuck until that happens. Everyone here knows you don’t interrupt Arthur Kensington. And I know you don’t end a conversation with Grandpa; he dismisses you.
“Was that the Worthington boy?” Grandpa asks, noticing my drifting attention.
