"It seems a little extreme, you stalking me at work when we've only met once."
Let me be clear, I had never gotten off on a girl being afraid of me. If Wren had shown an ounce of fear I would have gotten my ass out of there faster than someone could say the word lawsuit.
Nothing about her mannerisms screamed fear. If anything, she seemed curious. I was even more certain of that when she took a few steps further into the room and slowly sank into the chair across from me.
"I should tell you ahead of time, I don't have a pet bunny for you to boil."
"And I should probably tell you that I don't have a habit of boiling bunnies."
She cracked a smile.
"Should I be concerned about the fact that you've recognized both of the worrisome references I've made in your presence?"
"Should I be concerned that you made them in the first place?" I countered.
Her pretty, arched eyebrow rose. "Touché."
She stared at me from across the table. It made me nervous. I was all too aware of how bad I was with people as I sat there silent while she waited patiently for me to say something.
"I thought you were a journalism major," she eventually said to fill the silence.
"I was." Though I wasn't sure why she would even know that.
As far as I knew, my major wasn't a big topic of campus conversation. I did a pretty decent job of flying under the radar as much as possible.
"Talking to you is like pulling teeth." She huffed and crossed her arms.
My foot started nervously tapping the ground. I knew what was coming. She was going to come up with an excuse for a quick getaway. No one wanted to bother talking to the guy that could barely string a sentence together. She'd probably laugh about it with her friends later.
Normally, that was just fine with me. As I pictured Wren doing it, I found myself growing embarrassed. My foot started tapping faster.
It wasn't like I'd never tried to be better about it. My parents had spent a small fortune on therapists trying to draw me out of my shell. It just hadn't worked. Eventually, they'd just decided to accept me the way I was. Maybe they should have kept pushing, but it was a little too late for that now. Besides, when Rose had come along she'd filled the silence enough for the both of us.
I nearly jumped out of my seat when Wren's foot tapped mine. "I'm sorry," she offered. Her eyes were sad as she apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. I like talking to you." Her foot slid closer so that our ankles touched. "I really am sorry," she repeated gently.
I shrugged, unsure if I was supposed to apologize, too.
It took me a minute before I realized my leg had stopped bouncing. Wren seemed to realize it, too. She pulled her leg back to her own side of the table. Neither of us had acknowledged that she'd even done it.
"Okay, so you're not a journalism major anymore. Lay it on me, what's the new major?" Her words were rushed. She suddenly sounded as nervous as I felt.
"History."
"Really?" She seemed surprised. "How's your memory? You have to remember a lot of plays and stuff right? So, probably pretty good, I'm guessing."
"I think so."
Wren wrote something down in the notebook she had with her. I leaned forward to try to peek, but she pulled it back out of my sight.
"And what about studying? Do you have friends you can study with?"
I stared back down at my blue folder. There was no good way to tell someone that you didn't have any friends. Especially not when that someone was a pretty girl that everyone seemed to be drawn to.
She moved on when I didn't answer. "What if I found you a study group? Would you meet with them?"
"I'd rather not." I grimaced. The idea of spending months meeting up with a group of random people didn't appeal to me in the slightest.
She twirled her pen around her fingers. Her teeth closed over her lip as her eyes narrowed at me in concentration.
"I can't figure you out," she admitted, "But I'll tutor you."
I waited patiently for her to tell me that she was just kidding. She just sat there, staring expectantly at me. I stayed silent, wanting her to fill the silence again. No such luck, that time. Apparently, she'd decided to wait me out.
"Okay," I said, just to say something. Then, I added, "Thanks."
A hint of a smile curved up the corner of her lips. She reached out to pull my blue folder closer and opened it up to a blank calendar.
"Are there any days you can't meet?"
I shook my head quickly. I'd meet her every fucking day if I could. Just because I didn't think I needed tutoring didn't mean that I wasn't going to take advantage now that I'd seen who my tutor was.
"Well, here, mark your football schedule down for me. That way I can compare our schedules."
She handed me her pen, and I marveled at how it was warm from being held. It was a stupid thing to even notice, and I chided myself for it as soon as I'd thought it. Quickly, I jotted down my football schedule for the month. There were some variations on some days, but I knew them all by heart.
"Good memory, just like I thought."
Her smile grew, and I found myself smiling back. It wasn't often someone looked at me with that kind of approval in their eyes. I caught myself trying to think of something to say that would keep her looking at me like that.
Just as I was preparing to open my mouth to speak, Wren seemed to pull back. Her smile fell into something more forced, and she pointedly looked away from my face. I clenched my teeth back together.
The moment had passed.
"Well, unless you have any syllabus questions, there isn't really anything else we have to do today."
She stood up, and even if I'd had any syllabus questions I wouldn't have had the nerve to ask them at that point. I grabbed the blue folder I'd been instructed not to lose—"or else"—and stepped towards the door. Wren had happened to move closer at the same time, and somehow we ended up nearly chest to chest in front of the doorway.
She took a deep breath, her chest brushing against me. I re-lived a brief memory of her swiping at my t-shirt clad pecs after she'd spilled beer on me. I would gladly have let her pour several drinks on me if it had meant she'd touch me again.
"I swear I'm not sexually harassing you," she let slip.
Her cheeks instantly changed into a pleasant shade of pink that I liked. Part of me just liked that I wasn't the only one embarrassing myself for once.
"I like when you touch me," I admitted quietly.
Rather than waiting to see her reaction, I turned and left the room ahead of her. She caught up and fell into step beside me, at least until we made it near the tutoring desk. One of the tutoring center girls—not the one that had checked me in, but the other one—looked at Wren suspiciously.
"What are you doing?"
Wren stepped in front of me defensively. I was a little offended, considering I was much bigger than her and fully capable of taking care of myself. Even despite my rather inadequate social skills.
"We're done," I announced on her behalf before she could get a word out. "Wren was incredibly helpful." I stared the girl down, daring her to say the rude comment I could tell was on the tip of her tongue.
Wren glanced back at me, surprised that I'd spoken up, no doubt. She added, "Don't worry, Laurel. We've already talked about when we'll be meeting next."
Laurel turned, flicking her hair over her shoulder haughtily. She was exactly the kind of person I normally avoided talking to. She was cold in all the ways that Wren was warm.
Speaking of Wren, "Thanks for the help," I told her graciously.
She smiled—her real smile, not the fake one. As she told me goodbye she reached out and squeezed my arm. It was just a friendly gesture, but one that sent my blood pumping faster. That was another thing about coming off as unfriendly, people didn't touch you much. It was easy to forget how a thing as simple as a quick squeeze could make you feel on top of the world.
When I got to the far side of the library I
turned for one final look. I was surprised to see that Wren was watching me go. She offered me a friendly finger wave, a vast improvement from the way she'd run out on me at the party.
I was fully aware that Wren's attention probably had more to do with her pitying me than anything, but a guy like me would take what he could get.
7
Wren
Business 101.
It was the only course my dad had signed me up for that was practical. He'd given me four classes that were me, and one that was him. I wasn't sure how much I'd actually enjoy an introductory business class. But I was definitely open to giving it a chance.
On the second day of classes, I made my way across campus to the one building I hadn't gotten a good look at yet. The business school was situated on the far corner of campus, near the ritziest section of off-campus housing. I had a feeling that placement had something to do with how renowned Kelley's business program was. Parents footing the bill to send their prodigal children off to a top-notch university wouldn't settle for moving their kids into regular dorms. It was strange to think I had almost grown up as one of them.
Even my dad had done his best to talk me into letting him secure fancy off-campus housing for my first year. I'd turned up my nose at the offer. If my next adventure was going to be college then I wanted to experience it for all that it was worth. I had let him handpick my roommate for me, though. So in a way, we'd both won.
The Henrik H. Wade building was named for an eccentric tech billionaire who'd donated enough money to fund the entire building. It wasn't ordinarily a detail I'd have been interested in. Except for the fact that Henrik H. Wade was also the man that had helped my father make his own sizable fortune. Investing with one of Henrik's more lucrative start-ups early on had proven to deliver quite the return on his investment.
I back-tracked my way to the front of the building and found someone who looked familiar with the building. "Hey, could you tell me where 114 is?"
I'd been so awe-struck by the modern architecture of the building that I'd gotten myself lost when I'd tried to find the classroom on my own. Luckily I'd left my dorm early for the class because otherwise, I would have been in serious danger of being late.
"Go down this hallway here on your left, and then you're gonna turn right at the bathrooms. It's at the very end of that hall."
"Thanks," I chirped as I turned on my heel in that direction.
The second time around I made it right to my classroom, and still with plenty of time to spare before class started. The lecture hall was only about half-full when I entered. It didn't look like the professor had shown up yet, either. I chose an empty row near the middle and shuffled my way down to the end so I could sit near the wall.
I'd pulled out my phone and was scrolling aimlessly through social media when someone else started to come down the row towards me. The jostling of the seats made me glance up.
"Hi," the guy with the human equivalent of a lion's mane greeted me.
It only took me a second to place him. I'd talked to him briefly at that frat party I'd gone to. I did my best to smile at him, but it probably came out as more of a grimace. I was pretty sure he had to know Carter since the two of them had approached me basically at the same time.
Even though logic told me Carter had no reason to be in a Business 101 class, I surreptitiously glanced over the guy's shoulder as if I expected Carter to magically appear. Whether it was disappointment or relief I felt when no one else was standing there—I didn't want to think too hard about it. The guy plopped down next to me.
"I see you're sitting."
"I get it now," he said, completely ignoring the lack of warm welcome.
"Get what?"
He smiled amicably. "The grape juice thing you said the other night. I looked it up. You have an interesting sense of humor. I'm so glad we're friends."
"When did we become friends?" I asked with a laugh.
Usually, I was the one developing friendships with strangers. I wasn't used to people approaching me in the same way. It wasn't so different from the way I'd basically forced myself on Matty at tutoring the day before. It was a nice change of pace after the difficult time I'd had trying to get a read on Carter the day before.
I was still embarrassed by how that whole situation had gone. I'd fully meant to recuse myself from tutoring him, but then he'd seemed so resigned over my brush-off. It would have been easier if he'd complained or been a jerk about it.
Now I was committed to working with him for the semester. If only I could stop the natural inclination I felt to touch him every chance I got.
"Don't you remember?" The guy in class was saying, drawing my attention back to him. "That time we had Business 101 together and I introduced myself and then we became the very best of friends?"
I had to laugh. The guy was a little goofy but I liked the lightheartedness of him. "I think I missed the part where you actually introduced yourself."
"Travis." He gestured to himself and then nudged me with his elbow. "And you're Wren. I asked around about you," he explained easily. He hadn't even given me a chance to actually introduce myself.
"You probably shouldn't toss that last part in when introducing yourself," I said good-naturedly. He wasn't actually coming off as a creep, just a little overzealous maybe.
"I'll work on it," he vowed.
"So, Travis, what makes you worthy of instant friendship?"
I shifted in my seat so I was nearly facing him. It wasn't the easiest thing to do in the plastic bucket seats. I tried to ignore the way the armrest dug into my back.
Travis was taking our conversation very seriously. He ran his hand over his nonexistent beard. It took everything in me to hold back another round of laughter. He was proving to be very likable, in a younger brother sort of way. And since I'd been raised as an only child that quality appealed to me.
"Here's the thing, Wren. I'm not going to hit on you. And I'm not going to try to sleep with you. I am, however, going to expect you to teach me that juggling trick."
"That's all? It sounds like quite the deal."
"Also, I'll definitely be needing a wing-woman."
"I'll do my best to protect and serve," I vowed teasingly with a salute.
As soon as I did it my mind flew back to the way Carter had similarly saluted me from across the room at the party on Friday night. My hand fell back to my lap like dead weight. If Travis noticed, he didn't comment on it.
Our professor chose that moment to make his grand entrance. He might as well have been carried in by a horse-drawn carriage based on the way all eyes zeroed in on him. All it had taken was him walking through the door at the front of the hall to make the female population of the room—and some of the men, too—swoon.
Meanwhile, my only reaction was to scoff. That whole teacher/student relationship fetish was not on my bucket list.
"Okay, what do I have to do to get that kind of reaction when I walk into a room?" Travis whispered to me.
I snickered as I shushed him.
"Good morning, class. I'm Professor Gilmore and this is business 101. So, if that's not what you're here for then I'm sorry to tell you that you're in the wrong place."
High-pitched, nervous laughter rolled through the lecture hall. It only got quiet again when the professor started going over his syllabus.
"Why was that funny?" Travis asked quietly.
"Because Professor Good-Looking was the one saying it. Now shh, focus and take notes."
"On the syllabus or on how to impress girls like our professor?"
I pulled up the neck of my sweater to cover the laughter trying to escape from my mouth. A couple students in front of us turned to glare at the muffled sounds I was uncontrollably making.
"Both," I said once I'd composed myself.
Travis leaned back in his seat and tossed an arm up on the back of my chair. I tensed for a moment before I realized he'd also put an arm up on the empty seat on his other side. That was just the way he sa
t, I realized. I let myself relax as Professor Gilmore launched into a description of the group project we would be completing over the course of the semester.
"At the end of the course, the success—or failure—of your mock businesses will determine your grade. You'll be working in teams of two."
Travis leaned forward in his seat so he could force me to look at him. His eyebrows danced up-and-down suggestively.
I scoffed. "You don't even know if we'll get to—"
"Choose your own partners," Professor Gilmore announced. "But choose wisely, you'll be stuck with this person for the semester. No trades."
"Partners it is, then," I conceded.
Professor Gilmore finished explaining our assignment, including offering suggestions for our mock businesses. Somehow, when it came time for partners to conference on that, Travis and I ended up with a lingerie line. And not just any lingerie line—but one that catered to both women and men.
"Men deserve sexy things just as much as women do," Travis had argued.
I was starting to think I'd solved the mystery of why he wouldn't be hitting on me. Something told me I wasn't exactly his type.
After submitting half-page business proposals, we were dismissed. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and pushed Travis down the aisle ahead of me when he refused to move any faster than a sloth.
"Geez, someone's in a hurry," he muttered.
"I've got lunch plans," I told him cheerfully.
Just as we were reaching the end of what seemed to be a never-ending aisle he turned and planted his feet to face me. "What kind of lunch plans?"
"The kind you're not invited to," I said in my most saccharine voice.
"You wound me."
Travis clutched his chest and did a really poor imitation of what I figured was supposed to be a heart attack. I had to admit I was a little impressed by the part where he actually threw himself to the ground and flailed around. I stepped over his wiggling body and waved.
One Good Play Page 4
