On one hand, I’m thrilled to have my best friend here. On the other, her being here means Kai has to see her, which, judging by his reaction today, may not be the best thing.
Wren’s mouth tightens as if she hears my thoughts.
“I know,” she says softly. “It’s…complicated.”
“Understatement,” I mutter.
Wren’s eyes flick to me. “How is he?”
I hesitate, because how do I answer that? Because Kai is fine. Kai is not fine. Kai is a hurricane pretending to be a person.
“He’s…trying,” I say finally. “He’s captain now. He’s…intense, as usual.”
Wren snorts softly. “He was intense at fourteen.”
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s worse now.”
Wren’s mouth twitches. “Great.”
I glance at the time, then at my closet, then back at Wren.
“I have dinner later,” I say carefully.
Wren’s brows lift. “With who?”
I feel heat crawl up my neck. “Grayson.”
Wren goes still for a beat, then a wicked smile slowly takes over. “Oh.”
I narrow my eyes, doing my best to glare. “Don’t even.”
Wren leans closer, stage whispering, “Is he a freak in the sheets?”
I blink. “Wren.”
“What?” she says innocently. “I was celibate the entire time I was in London. I deserve joy.”
I huff, but my mouth twitches.
Wren’s eyes brighten. “And does he treat you like you’re precious and not fragile? Because there’s a difference.”
I think about that for a second, even though I already know the answer. Being with Grayson is the only time I actually feel stronger. He makes me feel more confident and brings out a boldness that I’ve never experienced before. He never treats me like I’m broken or something that might shatter if he makes the wrong step. He simply gives me space and time to find what it is I want or need and supports me in whatever that is.
“Yeah, he does.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Now,” she says, clapping her hands together, “let’s watch a movie and figure out what you’re wearing tonight. I want that man's jaw to be on the floor.”
32
HARLOW
By six-fifteen, Wren has commandeered my tiny dorm bathroom like it’s a war zone and she’s the general.
“Sit,” she orders, shoving me onto the edge of the bed.
“I can do my own makeup,” I protest.
Wren makes a face. “Not today. Today, I’m being your fairy godmother.”
