I bend my head, brushing my mouth right next to her ear. “I’m sorry for how I acted when you asked about college. I was only … it’s different for me than it is for you.”
Her fingers graze the short hairs on the back of my neck. “Just because it’s easier for me doesn’t mean it’s impossible for you.”
“It feels impossible.”
I’m still at war with my father’s expectations. I graduated high school with a 2.5 GPA. I looked up what UCLA’s out-of-state tuition is—my savings would cover about an eighth of it. Other schools that previously expressed interest in me are equally expensive. I’m sure as hell not going to qualify for an academic scholarship, and quitting baseball means no athletic eligibility either. I basically trashed my future, and I made my peace with that. Assumed I’d scrape by, working at the marina or other local jobs. Get a place of my own eventually. Buy my own sailboat one day, if things went really well.
And then Wren Kensington had to come along and make me question if that was enough.
The song changes, slow, sultry music switching to an increasingly upbeat tempo that I immediately recognize.
Wren smirks as my favorite song continues to play. I know without asking what she said to the DJ.
I love her. I really, really love her. And I’m increasingly concerned it’s not a feeling that’s going to fade away. I saw her leaving for college as the natural end to us, and it’s occurring to me that I based that on nothing at all. I’m still grieving Skylar two years after she died, and grief is essentially mourning the loss of love.
What if I still love Wren Kensington in two years? What if my pathetic future includes pining away for a girl who’s out of my league in every possible way? I don’t have one single thing to offer her—not even myself. I’m too damaged. Too unpredictable. The antithesis of everything I praised Gus for being earlier. Wren made a massive mistake, going into Wade’s bedroom with me instead of Gus or one of the other guys at that party. Anyone else would have been a better choice than me.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Wren tells me.
At first, I fear she read my mind. Or that I accidentally said some of that aloud. Then I realize she’s just replying to my mention of impossible.
I hate that she has faith in me. Mostly, all I’ve done is let her down or push her away.
Wren rises up on her tiptoes, tightening her grip on my neck. Pressing her mouth against mine so lightly that it barely qualifies as a kiss.
My hands slide lower, covering her ass, and I feel her lips curve up against mine.
“Pretty sure all the guys here already got the message.”
“I’m not doing it for their benefit,” I say, then kiss her harder.
She moans. I can’t hear it, but I feel the vibration against my tongue as it slips inside her mouth.
We’re causing a scene, probably, and I couldn’t care less. Kissing Wren doesn’t fix my future, but it’s absolutely improved my night.
I’m close to suggesting we head somewhere more private when I hear commotion. Raised voices. A clatter. The music cuts out a few seconds later.
My head turns. Sure enough, lots of people were looking this way. But they’re starting to focus on the front door, where Brett Nichols is standing with one of the same guys he was at Lucky’s with in November. Brett glances this way, grinning when he sees me. Grinning wider when he sees Wren.
I scowl back.
Wren fists the front of my T-shirt urgently. “Donothit him,” she whispers to me. “No matter what he says.”
I keep my gaze locked on Nichols, but I nod, confirming I heard her, before walking that way.
Gus and Wade have already confronted him.
“You weren’t invited,” Wade says.
“Yeah, I was,” Brett retorts.
“Well, we’re uninviting you,” Gus says, glancing at Macie, who nods.
This is a private residence, not a bar. He’s trespassing technically, if Macie doesn’t want him here. I’d rather not involve the cops, but I’ll call them if I have to.
“I came to talk to Bennett,” Brett says.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” I reply, pausing my approach a few feet away. Pull my phone out and add, “I’ll call the cops myself if you don’t get out of here.”
