It’s flattering—to think this is how she views me. And that she bothered to draw me at all.
“You’ve improved,” I say.
Wren scowls. “I don’t usually draw?—”
“Which I didn’t think was possible,” I finish.
She picks the pencil up off the table, spinning it around one finger. Her cheeks are a little pink, I notice.
“You didn’t answer me. What are you doing down here?”
“Down here, in the below-deck-cabin thingy? I heard blow jobs were being offered.”
She grimaces. “Do you, uh, do you think that your mom heard that?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “She won’t care though. I’m eighteen. I think she’s assumed I’ve moved past passing girlsI like younotes.”
Wren smiles. “You did that?”
“Once, in middle school. Cammie dared me to.”
“Was the girl her?”
“No.” But in retrospect, I wonder if that was a test. One I failed.
“You and she never …”
“We hooked up. Once. The summer after my sophomore year, right after Skylar died. I was—I was in a bad place. Looking for any distraction. Sex, drinking, even some drugs. It didn’t mean anything to me. I never … felt that way about her. And I didn’t realize she felt that way about me until … too late.”
“Is that why she hates me?”
“It probably didn’t help. But I think her issue is more with how your life looks. Cammie grew up with a single mom, who she’s mostly supported since high school. From the outside, you—and anyone with money—has security she’s had to work really hard for. Has family who takes care of them versus the other way around. It’s not personal to you. Most of the summer people don’t spend any time around locals, so you’re the only one she can take any frustration out on.”
“Is that how you see me? Spoiled?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not. It’s not like you had any say in who your family was.”
“Neither did you.”
I’ve never told Wren how much the comparisons to my father unnerve me, yet she seems to have realized it anyhow.
I nod, then jerk my chin toward the door. “I should go check for whales.”
She stands from her spot in the eating nook. “Before you get what you came for?”
“I was kidding, Wren.”
She walks closer, running her tongue along her lower lip in what I think is a purposeful move to draw my attention to her mouth. It works.
“Well, I wasn’t. I’ve never given you one before.”
I’m amused by the way she says it, like I’m possibly unaware.
“I know.”
“I was going to … that night in my room. I was going to blow you and then put the condom on, but I got … it’d been a while since we’d—I got nervous, I guess. And I’d thought about doing it in your truck, in the driveway, but the angle was … I wasn’t sure how to—” She stopstalking, meeting my gaze and noticing the smile on my face. “What?”
“Nothing.”
