“She went upstairs with himafteryou showed up with Macie, Cap.”
“Whose fault was that? You called and asked me to drive Macie?—”
“Yours,” Gus interrupts. “If you’d told Wren how you felt before then, it wouldn’t have mattered who you showed up with.”
When I say nothing, he continues, “I haven’t seen her with any other guys since then. I think you’ve got a shot.”
“I don’twanta shot,” I snap.
“Sure,” Gus sings in that maddening tone again.
I shake my head, turn up the radio’s volume, and roll my window all the way down. Rest one elbow on the door, keeping my gaze on the road ahead. Between the wind and the blaring music, I won’t hear anything else Gus says.
But it doesn’t matter. His words are already burrowing into my brain.
Fuck. Am I in love with her? How am I supposed to know, to tell? I’ve tried to downplay any reaction around her, and Gus still thinks I am. If I’d done what I really wanted to—chase after her on New Year’s Eve,fuck her in my bed on her prom night, punch Aaron for touching her at that party, tell Nichols, “She’s mine,” when he commented that he’d seen her first—what the hell would he have thought then? Not that he was wrong about my feelings—that’s for damn sure.
Arriving at the cliff is a relief. Gus won’t say anything about Wren in front of everyone. He’s loyal. Always has my back.
Which makes his observations harder to dismiss. Hedoesknow me, has seen me with a lot of girls. I know his comments aren’t baseless. I just need them to be a little rickety. Wren hasn’t said a word to me in over a week. I already lost her, probably. I lost her in that damn storage closet, most likely.
And what would a relationship between us even look like? She’s moving to California next month. And I’m … well, past the marina closing, I have no clue what I’ll be doing. Most of the jobs around here are seasonal. Lucky’s might hire me around the holidays—they’re always short-staffed that time of year, and I think Owen likes me enough to look past the Brett incident. I have enough savings to make it to next summer. Longer if I keep living at home. But I don’t know what I’lldoif I stay right where I am.
Sadness about Skylar and anger at my dad turned my future into a dead end. Crappy grades and no baseball mean I couldn’t even get into the community college Gus is going to.
Wren might have chosen UCLA, but she could have gone anywhere.
Her opportunities are endless. Mine are practically nonexistent. That’s partly my fault, which makes it even worse. I want to be someone who triumphs over adversity rather than allows it to sink them, but I barely know where to begin that battle.
“Let’s go,” Cammie announces once everyone has climbedout of cars.
I scan the line of parked vehicles. No convertible.
“Wren isn’t here yet,” I say, avoiding looking toward where Gus is standing.
Cammie rolls her eyes. “She knows the way.”
I shrug a shoulder, then lean a foot back against my truck.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Cammie adds.
I glance up at the sky. It’s barely six. “Sun won’t set for a couple of hours.”
“We should wait for everyone,” Aaron says, glancing at me like I’ll be impressed by him agreeing.
The only reason I fight the scowl that wants to appear in response is Gus’s lecture. He’s right; I don’t have to be best friends with the guy, but it’s unprofessional and unfair—and obvious, apparently—to treat him differently simply because of whatever has or is happening between him and Wren.
Cammie sighs, but quits arguing after Aaron chimes in.
Wren’s convertible arrives a few minutes later. She parks at the end of the row of cars, climbing out, and Aaron jogs over to her like an eager puppy.
I tug on the brim of my ball cap as I straighten and start walking toward the path, tracking Wren’s progress out of the corner of my eye. She’s smiling in response to whatever Aaron said to her, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. I do a double take, gaze lingering in that direction.
She’s wearing my sweatshirt. The one I gave her on the beach, on the Fourth, while we watched the fireworks. I’m just realizing she never returned it.
I don’t know what her wearing it means. If she just happened to grab it or happened to have it in her car.
But I do like seeing her in my clothes, and if I asked Gus, I’m pretty sure he would say that’s another tally in theLovecolumn.
