I try to kick him again but he dodges. “I bet your playlists are just yourself on repeat.”
“Nothing wrong with self love. What’s on your playlist?”
My eyebrows raise at the change in subject, a weird twist in my chest, as I wish I had my phone to put on my comfort music.They're all my Mum’s favourite, all from CD’s and records I kept after she died, all sitting in a little nook of my apartment.
“I really love Fleetwood Mac. They remind me of my Mum. Anything vintage and rock. She had really good taste.”
His smile is achingly warm, and I feel more relaxed in his clear approval. “Do you listen to them alot?”
“Yeah. If I ever make a new playlist, I always end up adding her favourites in there without thinking. She used to singRhiannonso loud out of the car window, even when she’d pick me and Phin up from school. I swear I can remember it.” I look down smiling at the fond memory that I haven’t been blessed with in a long time.
“I can very much appreciate that. I got to see this sister indie-folk band at a festival we played this spring, they were so awesome. River–he’s our bassist–had to drag me back to our set. I nearly missed our time slot. You'd really like them.”
I love it more than I’m ready to analyse, when he gives me these pieces of himself. It’s the perfect distraction I didn’t know I needed right now. “What music do you like? Or is your ego too big to allow other bands in?” I flick at the Larks t-shirt on my body.
“I’ll have you know, that t-shirt is for Phin because he likes to keep updated with the merch. So you’ll have to explain why you’ve stolen it.” He then tells me about all the heavier music he listens to, before dropping the biggest surprise of all.
My mouth hangs open. “You’re a Swifty?”
“Hell yeah! It’s a hard tie between Midnights and Folklore.”
Sitting back on my hands, I just blink at him, revelling. I’m secretly thrilled because both albums are also my joint favourites.
“Stop looking at me with those gorgeous judgy eyes.”
I roll said eyes and fail to hide my smile at the compliment. Was it crazy leaning on him for support after only meeting aday ago? Maybe? But weirder things had happened, like those couples on that catfishing show that even after they're exposed, it turns out they were soul mates all along. If they couldgo with the flow,so could I.
I also should stop watching trash television.
Refusing to tell him about my devotion to being a fellow Swifty, it’s probably time to end the distractions and find out what is going on. Nothing is going to put my unsettled stomach at bay until I know what happened with the detectives.
“Can I ask why you’re curled at the end of my bed?” I fiddle with the bedding.
“I wanted to make sure you were ok because I didn’t see you after they spoke to you. When I came up, it didn’t feel right leaving.”
“I’m a big girl you know.” I knock his knee with my foot through the duvet and give him a pointed look, receiving one in return.
“Roo, you didn’t even lock your door. After they spoke to a couple more of us and left, I came straight up here and must've fallen asleep.”
“What did they ask you?”
Wren doesn’t respond, in fact he straightens, which causes me to also sit up and match his posture. I can tell something is wrong in the way he sighs and moves closer. I'm too on edge to lean into him for comfort, so I flop back onto my pillows and exhale.
“They asked a lot of questions about last night and why my knuckles were bruised. But then…They asked me a lot of questions about you.”
“Me? Why? What questions?” I’m immediately flustered, because I get why they'd enquire over the altercation last night, but me?
“They wanted to know about your relationship with him. How you felt about being here, and Aya. They kept circling back to whether I saw you with him at any point last night or this morning.”
“That’s ridiculous.” The obscenity of it nearly makes me actually laugh. It’s bitter and in disbelief, causing him to look at me with pity. I don’t like seeing the expression so I sit up, thankful that the t-shirt covers me to mid-thigh because the duvet falls away from my lap. I clear my throat and my thoughts. “Why would they ask you about my past relationship with him, when we’ve only just met? They didn't even ask me to explain further on anything other than the basics of when I last saw him, and why we broke up.” Of course they were going to poke at Corbin being in my room last night, but the punch to the face seemed more like a small altercation than a fight. The two hadn’t tumbled through the corridor throwing fists after all.
Wren slowly throws both his legs over the side of the bed, putting us side by side. “Roo, when I spoke to some of the others, the detectives asked them the same questions. He seemed to focus mainly on you.”
I couldn’t be their first suspect, could I?
“But, I wouldn’t ever do anything like that to anyone.” I can barely get my words out.
“Don’t for a second think I don’t know that,” He says, taking my small hands between his bigger tattooed palms. “None of us think that.”
