THE guitar and drum beat starts, as I spin to find Wren is lightly touching me, a guitar already in his hands with the strap around his body. He gives me a brief nod which I take as him asking if I’m good, so I quickly nod back and bring the microphone to my lips, exhaling any nerves I hadn’t expected myself to be harboring. Immediately we’re off, and as I hit the first line, he plays the first notes, his eyes never leaving me as he plays guitar.
There are fans who would sell their kidney to be in Wren's presence and he’s here callingmewife, shamelessly flirting but also being attentive. What is his end game exactly? Am I a fool to want more? I haven’t missed the way Lily keeps scowling at both him and me, her disapproving stare is burning a hole in my head right now. It’s a nudge that keeps reminding me of what happened on Wednesday.
I sing along with the band, making it to the chorus without going off key. Under other circumstances, with a lot more alcohol, I'd feel more confident in engaging with friends and projecting. Now however, I’m too scared to see which guests are around us. I focus on what lyric comes next, looking above everyone's heads to the shimmering decorations hung around the gardens. I purposely don't look for Corbin and I certainly don't make eye contact with Aya, which should stave off creating any drama. This song could be a modern day Jolene, the intent of why he chose it so obvious, but what I can’t piece together is why he’s trying to fuck with me. Why throw this party? Why bring his fiancée here, when he only got out of a relationship six months ago? A bitter person would have stormed over there and told her exactly who her fiancé is, but the stronger part of my brain whispers to just stay away from them. Hold my head high and show him I’m not affected. I’m really not in the way he wants me to be. I feel sorry for Aya—anyone really who falls forhis hollow charm and ends up stuck in the place I clawed my way out of.
I remember the freeing relief I felt driving away from Nightingale house and him, not even the house being able to make me stay with him. He no longer has any power over me.
My chin raises higher as I finally look down from the trees, meeting those cold, dead blue eyes. I shake out my hair, starting the chorus and letting my voice sore. Palms flat, I press on my stomach a little to make sure I’m singing through the correct breathing Phin taught me to project. On cue, I feel a hip knock into my side and I dip into it, my best friend shamelessly knocks me again with the side of his butt and I have to refrain from laughing. A deviancy shimmers in his eyes as he sings along with me, his laughter bubbling up without a care as he nearly plays the wrong chord. I can’t believe I almost let myself be robbed of how much I love doing this. The chorus ends and I unclip the microphone from the holder, walking closer to Phin as he shakes his shoulders along with the beat. The entire band harmonises with me in the right places, but there's that angelic voice again, rising above them all. My eyes instantly shift to Wren, the green in his irises blazing as I find him already looking at me. He wears a ghost of a smile as he sings and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as him. I like how our voices mix together, gliding against one another like we’ve done this a million times. The lyrics I sing are provocative, crude, but my cheeks don’t burn with embarrassment as I’m held in his stare. How am I meant to stay away from him, when he’s so captivating? I feel like I’m not in my own body as I sway my hips, a mop of blonde hair rests on my shoulder, and I look back as he dramatically continues to play the guitar. His showmanship is astounding. Looking out to the crowd again, I spot Merle smiling warmly and it makes his dimples pop. He hides behind one of his giant hands as Phoenix raises a finger at his boyfriend, then motionsto himself and then like a fool, humps the guitar. It’s honestly like having a teenage brother sometimes. For one moment we’re all happy, contentment drifting on the light breeze and I’m able to relax my shoulders, even if it’s only a fraction.
The song slows down and it’s just the drums and bass creating the fill. Leaning off him, I walk back to the center of the rugs. I’m not used to so many people looking at me at once, which is something I should probably get over, with my first book tour creeping up soon. Turn to my right as I start the bridge of the song, the slowness building and I press on my chest again to make sure I inhale enough. It picks up to a speed I can’t keep up with, so I don’t even attempt to continue. Wren however, doesn’t miss a beat and keeps singing. When I finally start to sing again, he moves forward towards me, his fingers flow over the black Gibson guitar effortlessly, and he only stops once our noses are almost touching. I keep singing as he drinks more of me in, studying my face and the way I slightly tilt my head back to hit the higher notes. Adrenaline surges through my body and I feel like I could do anything right now.
My gaze falls down to his lips, slightly open and so close I could just lean forward…I look back up to his eyes and he bloody winks. Stuttering slightly, instead of feeling embarrassed, I giggle which causes his feline smirk to extend into a dazzling grin. I’m utterly charmed by this man I’ve told myself to stay away from.
WE finish up the song unscathed and Phin crashes into me, wrapping me into a giant hug, whisking me around the makeshift stage. That was so fun and my cheeks blush deeply as our small crowd of guests applaud.
A warm breath fans my ear, as long fingers squeeze both my hips. “You we’re so fucking incredible, pretty girl.” Wren whispers and it sends a shiver dancing down my spine. I find hispet names for me endearing, and I kind of like how he whispers them only for me to hear. The band starts to put down their instruments, and the crowd turns to make their way towards the house. He’s warm and smells like sandalwood and mint—It’s intoxicating. One of his hands lets go of my hip and makes its way under the blazer, making a flat palm on my waist. It causes my body to ignite, the flush from my cheeks burning its way down my neck, settling all over me.
“I was ok.” I tremble, aware of everyone moving around us but feeling like we're the only two that exist. The constant noise in my head seems to quieten to a sedated hum when he touches me, like when he stroked my jaw in the library or entwined our fingers before our song. Jesus, I just sang a song with Wren Hastings and now he has his hands on me, telling me I was incredible. I still haven't moved, but I can feel him leaning further into me, using his flat palm to bring me closer to his hard body and I swear he inhales where his face is tucked into my neck.
“You’re insane if you think that was just ok.” He says as he tightens the grip on my hip. It's intimate, but it makes me believe him. Turning to look over my shoulder, he lifts his face from being buried in my hair as shrill bells chime through the speakers right next to our heads.
We both jump apart and I’m almost panting, my fingers fluttering to my hair as I try to calm the fluster happening all over my skin. The garden seems to filter back into reality, and we look up to the patio as all the other guests do too. Phoenix and Merle stand on the steps, hand in hand as one excitedly bounces and the other wears a tight smile. I've never found either of them hard to read, but the anxiety riddled frown on his face is so unexpected, I have the urge to comfort or help in any way I can. Automatically stepping forward, I feel the warm presence of Wren again as he places his hand on the small of my backas we leave the stage. Quickly we join the others as everyone stands before the patio, minus Corbin and Aya who I notice have disappeared.
“Thank you so much everyone for being here this weekend. We hope you all fall in love with Nightingale House, like Phoenix and I did. It means the world to us, that all of you made it,” he squeezes his boyfriend's hand, raising the champagne glass in his free one in a toast. “We’ve had an amazing team come in to make tonight's dinner, so hopefully you all enjoy it.”
“Let's get merry and let the murder mystery commence!”
THE dining room lights are dim, causing shadows to dance like demonic shapes across the walls as we all crowd the long table. Everyone has filtered in from outside, so Maggie closes the double doors to the conservatory and unties the cord from the gosmere drape to let them fall loose.
The decorating company has done an amazing job in transforming the entire room into the embodiment of The Great Gatsby. Everything is shimmery and gold, dozens upon dozens of potted flowers are scattered on every surface. Helium gold balloons are discarded upon the ceiling, their twirling strings dangling down like streamers. A giant center piece of feathers and more flowers sits in the middle of the table, whilst strings of pearls trail the length. Plates, wine glasses and cutlery are placed with each chair as a formal dinner would be set.
My eyes fall upon red name cards placed around the table, which I know was Maggie's doing when I saw her earlier. Corbin might be tonight’s host in the loosest of terms, but I know he had no hand in helping anyone set up. I follow as everyone starts to find their seats, running my fingers along the crisp white table cloth as I go. I’m sitting precisely in the middle of the table. Lil and Merle are both taking their seats on the opposite side, to my right, down by the head where the seat is currently empty, no doubt for our hostile host. Merle frowns as he finds his card andlooks next to me where Phin’s name card sits, the space between them like a hedge, with all the table decor in their way. Directly opposite me, Bran sits down next to him, ruffling his hair. I’ll never find the differences in both brothers not staggeringly contrasting. Mavis and then Jay accompany him, the latter moving the chair for her to sit, finishing the seating plan on their side of the table. Mavis blushes, trying to cover it up with a sip of her cocktail, her eyes also going to the empty seat.
Wren finds his name card and scoffs, picking it up as he strides to the empty seat next to me and sits in one fluid motion. He picks up Cardinal’s card and throws it down the table to where he should be sitting, popping his own next to mine. I don’t miss the way he smiles to himself, before his head snaps to my best friend.
“Who’s trying to keep me from my wife?” He says loud enough for the entire table to hear. Looking down at the space between our chairs, he frowns and curls his tattooed fingers under my seat, pulling it closer to him like I weigh nothing. I’m momentarily stunned by his possessive action and a wild cackle escapes someone down the table.
Lily clears her throat and I look away from him, using the excuse of taking off his blazer, and I quickly cover the sheer material on my chest with my long waves. I’ll have to remember to not move my hair or risk flashing everyone opposite me, but the lighting in here is dim. Phin told me earlier he knew I’d look beautiful in the gown, but I’d repress my annoyance because I knew he was unaware of his brother's motives. To him it was just a gorgeous dress, to me it showed all my insecurities. It was so far out of my comfort zone and honestly, if it wasn’t for Wren saving the day with his jacket, I don’t think I would have come back downstairs after the small panic attack that had ensued on the stairs.
Lily is still staring at where we both sit, which is starting to make me feel itchy. I raise my eyebrow at her questioningly, but she just takes a sip of her champagne and starts to talk to Merle beside her. We’ve spent so little time with each other today, but the displeased looks she keeps shooting me has my stomach turning nervous.
“Want to get a little payback?” Wren whispers, goosebumps covering my flesh. He chuckles low and I'm sure he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
Fiddling with the silverware in front of me, I don't notice we've naturally leant into each other again, until I feel the hair around my face touch his cheek. I should tell him no, stop this madness, but instead I ask, “What do you have in mind?”
“Play along.” His large hand squeezes my knee under the table and I think it's now that I realise I don't stand a chance. Long legs spread wider until his thigh is pressed against mine, his right arm snaking behind me to rest along my chair. I want to joke about taking our characters too far, but this protective cocoon he’s created fills me with a sense of safety. I forget about the clingy dress, the belittling words I’ve ignored today or the overwhelming dread of where this evening is going to go. My brain is empty and calm, which I haven't felt in such a long time.
The conversations going on around us are a light buzz, as both Cardinal and Aya enter through the conservatory double doors and are momentarily attacked by the gossamer drapes. She huffs and pushes at the curtain, blowing strands of straight hair from her face like she walked through a cobweb. I can’t help but laugh, which dies as Willow follows after them into the room. The empty seat next to Wren dawns on me as she slides into it, trailing her long nails across his arm. I marvel at her delusion, because despite me witnessing him turning her down twice today, she’s determined to win his affection.
“Fancy that Wrenny, we’re next to each other.” Stiffly he moves his arm from under her trailing fingers, not biting like she expected. He shifts closer to me if that was even possible, with a look that tells me he's not indifferent to climbing into my lap if need be. Her eyes drag along where our bodies are attached, the smile that grows on her lips unsettling. She sits forward and picks up her name placement, tapping a long nail against it before producing her own red card from god knows where. She’s wearing the tiniest black dress, the strings of beaded tassels falling on the start of her thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. She doesn’t care though, sitting forward to make her butt look peachy. “Looks like I’m your mistress this evening.” She says, twisting the red card between two fingers.
“This is a joke,” he pauses to read her character details, raising it so I can read it too. “First he makes my character a wife beater, now I’m also an adulterer? What a fucking twat.” He shakes his head, causing Phin to peer over me at him. Obviously hearing the distress, his hand reaches out and takes the card. Something is shared between them that I’m not privy to, which is weird, but they do have a friendship away from ours.
A bell tinkles so the table falls silent, Maggie wheeling in a long trolley, bowls of soup steaming on each shelf and a fragrant smell wafts with it. My mouth waters.
Corbin strolls in behind her from the house, but not taking his seat at the head of the table. He stands behind the chair, with one hand in his pocket and the other still holding the tumblr. His tie is slightly looser than earlier, his face at a loss of amusement.
I guess we’re starting the game before we start dinner.
