BY THE TIME I’m walking into seventh period, I spot Wren sitting in her usual spot, front and center, her head bent, her long hair covering most of her face. I pause in the open doorway, studying her. Everyone is talking. Laughing. Except Wren. She just looks…sad.
Defeated.
Alone.
Her obvious pain is a heavy weight on my shoulders and it annoys the shit out of me. I’m responsible for it, and normally that sort of thing wouldn’t bother me, but come on. What the hell did Wren Beaumont ever do to me?
Not a damn thing. Her mere existence annoys me, but that’s not reason enough to torture her.
Or is it?
Jesus. I am seriously fucked up.
I walk past her, not saying a word, making my way to the back of the classroom and plopping my ass in my usual seat. Ezra is already at his desk, Natalie perched on his knee, eating him up with her sultry gaze while he sits there like a dumbass and basks in it.
Knowing how Natalie operates, I don’t trust her motives. She wants something from Ez. That’s the only reason she’s paying attention to him.
“Crew, oh my God,” she says when she spots me, rolling her eyes as she turns on Ezra’s knee to face me more fully. “Are you bored yet?”
With this conversation? Hell yes. “What exactly are you referring to?”
“Working with the virgin. I’m sure you’re hating every second.” She points at Wren’s back. “I cannot stand having Sam as my partner. He’s so boring. He drones on and on. Talks about stuff I don’t even understand.”
That’s because Sam is brilliant and Natalie is an idiot. Not that I can actually say that to her. “Sam is a smart guy. He’ll ensure your grade is an A for the project.”
“Ugh.” Natalie leans her head back, her gaze meeting Ezra’s, the two of them smiling. “I’d much rather work with you, Crew.”
“What about me?” Ezra wraps his arm around her, resting his hand on her stomach, the bold motherfucker. “Wouldn’t you rather be my partner, Nat?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Not even.” She shoves his hand away from her and rises to her feet, coming to stand in front of me.
This is what I don’t like about Natalie. She’s a tease. When I wasn’t around, she’s perching her ass on Ezra’s knee and probably giving the poor fucker a boner. The moment he tries to be a little forward with her—and she was giving him all the signs that he had permission—she acts like he’s a disgusting perv and pushes him away.
I believe every woman has the right to say no—even Wren. I was just fucking with her at lunch, not that she’d even know the difference.
Natalie is constantly testing that line, trying to cross it and then running back on the other side when shit doesn’t go her way. It’s exhausting. And dangerous.
A weary sigh leaves me when I realize she’s not done with the conversation, and I tilt my head back, meeting her gaze. “What do you want, Nat?”
“Come with me and talk to Skov. I know you’re miserable with her as your partner.” She tips her head in Wren’s direction. “I bet if the both of us went up there and pled our case, Skov would listen.”
Probably not, but it could be worth a try. I know Wren would breathe a sigh of relief, not having to deal with me anymore. Getting away from her would also probably ease my frustration level.
And my new urgent need to jerk off every night in the shower to thoughts of Wren on her knees with those pink lips of hers wrapped around the head of my cock.
Fuck, I could give myself a semi just thinking about it right now.
“I’m not switching partners.” My voice is firm.
Natalie’s mouth hangs open. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you enjoy working with the virgin.”
“Quit calling her that,” I say irritably.
“What? It’s the truth! Isn’t she a virgin?”
“Yes. I am.”
Oh shit. Looks like Wren came over to join the conversation.
Natalie just stares at her, a faint sneer curling her upper lip. “What are you doing here?”
“If you’re going to talk about me, then maybe I should be in on the conversation.” Wren crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her tits and giving me plenty to stare at.
“You weren’t included in this conversation in the first place,” Natalie mutters.
Wren stands up taller. “Then I’d suggest you stop constantly putting my name in your mouth.”
“Whoaaaa.” Ezra draws out the word, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement over the potential girl fight.
Natalie’s gaze flicks to mine. “Aren’t you going to tell her to go sit back down or whatever?”
“No.” I barely look at Wren as I lean back in my seat, my arms up, hands behind my head, clutching the back of my neck, as if I have all the time in the world. “I think she’s got a handle on this.”
Natalie shoots me a dirty look before returning her attention to Wren. “Are you telling me that Virgin is your name? Because that’s all I ever said.”
Wren’s expression turns dark. She’s mad. And I don’t blame her. Natalie is being a total cunt. “Quit talking about me, Natalie.”
“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it if I don’t stop?” Natalie taunts.
“I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” I murmur. Both girls glance over at me, Natalie’s eyes flashing with annoyance. “I have a few—things on you, Nat.”
Naked photos she sent to me in the past—that she’s practically sent to every guy on campus. A video of her puffing away on a vape at a party last year. Another one of her getting thoroughly fucked by Malcolm, though I never watched it.
Malcolm made sure we all got a copy, of course—though I’m not too sure if she knows he made it. He got the idea from another guy in our class who does the same thing. So fucking sleazy.
“Are you serious right now? You’re actually taking her side?” She waves a hand in Wren’s direction.
“You put her on blast, I’ll help her do the same thing to you.” I shrug. “It’s as easy as that.”
Natalie doesn’t say anything, but she’s visibly trembling. With fear. With anger. Maybe a combination of both. “You’re an asshole.”
“That’s old news, babe. Tell me something I don’t know.”
With a huff, she turns and walks away, plopping into her chair a couple of rows over with an extra loud, “Humph.”
Malcolm chooses that moment to enter the classroom, his gaze zeroing in on Wren standing by my desk, his eyes narrowing.
He doesn’t look pleased.
The one who has the most to lose out of all of us getting ratted out by Wren is Malcolm. He’d be sent back to England—the last place he wants to go. He has a volatile relationship with his parents, especially his mother. Everything he does is not good enough for the woman. If he were to get kicked out of school and sent back to the UK?
Forget it. She’d be furious and probably cut him off financially.
Malcolm heads for his desk, which is on the other side of me, closest to where Wren is standing. He bumps right into her, not even bothering to say excuse me or sorry, which is unusual because he’s British and polite as fuck, before he settles into his desk, glaring at her.
“Do you mind?”
Wren rubs her arm where he ran into her, blinking rapidly.
What the hell? The motherfucker hurt her.
If she starts crying, I’m going to lose my shit.
“Watch it, Mal.” When he glances over at me, I give him a look, one that says, lay the fuck off.
He shrugs. “She was blocking my way.”
“She’s a girl. You ran into her like you’re a linebacker or some shit.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Wren adds.
I turn my attention to her. “Say what like it’s a bad thing?”
“That I’m a girl. Like it’s a curse, or I’m subhuman or whatever.”
“Well…” Malcolm drawls. “You’re the one who said it.”
Ezra laughs.
I remain quiet, my anger simmering just below the surface.
“Women are only good for one thing, don’t you think, Crew? That’s what you’ve said before.” Malcolm hesitates for not even a second. “Fucking. That’s it. Oh, and cooking. Guess that makes two things.”
“You’re disgusting,” Wren whispers, her gaze shifting to mine. “And you’re no better, considering you’re sitting there letting him say such awful things.”
My anger rises at Wren being her typical judgmental self. “What do you want me to say? That I think Malcolm is right? That women aren’t good for anything else but a quick lay? He might be on to something.”
“You’re such a dick, Lancaster!” Natalie screams from her seat, laughing her head off.
She’s only getting away with saying it because Skov still hasn’t waltzed into the classroom. It’s like a free-for-all in here right now.
“She’s right,” Wren says, her voice eerily calm. “You are a complete—dick.”
My mouth drops open. Ezra is in near hysterics, he’s laughing so hard. Even Malcolm is chuckling.
Wren turns on her heel and rapidly walks up the aisle, snatching her backpack from the floor before she jogs out of the classroom. Running right past Skov, who watches Wren leave before she pulls the classroom door shut.
“Why does that girl keep running out of my classroom when she’s never ditched before a day in her life?” Skov asks no one in particular as she heads for her desk, shaking her head.
“What the hell was that all about?” I ask my friend. “Did you purposely run into her to hurt her?”
Malcolm glares at me. “I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t either. That little goody-goody will eventually tell on us, and then we’ll be fucked.”
“Calling her out and making her look stupid in front of the entire class is your way of trying to keep her quiet then?”
He has the decency to appear contrite. “If she’s afraid of us, maybe she won’t say anything.”
“Scaring the shit out of her might drive her to confess what she saw, too.” Shit, I don’t know what’s going to keep Wren quiet. Maybe I should be nice to her for once. “Don’t forget she could ruin everything for you—for us—with a single visit to the headmaster’s office. Great plan you’ve put into place, my friend. Really solid.”
Though who am I to talk? I did nothing but threaten her earlier. I’m just as bad as Malcolm.
Probably worse, considering all I want to do is fuck her.
The realization smacks me in the middle of my chest, reminding me that I’m mortal after all. I like to act as if nothing touches me, but currently there is only one thing—one person who has the power to touch me. Fuck with my head.
Completely ruin me.
And that’s Wren.
“Maybe someone needs to threaten her in order to get her to keep her mouth shut, since you’re the one who can only think about de-virginizing her,” he retorts.
My glare burns into Malcolm. I hate how he knew what I was thinking. It’s my own damn fault though. I’ve been lusting after Wren since our senior year started. Hell, even longer than that.
Why should I give a damn about a sheltered little virgin, who would probably slap my face if I tried to hold her hand? She’s probably never seen a dick in her life. Never been kissed. Never been touched.
She’s pure. Pristine.
Not my type at all.
So why am I dying to dirty her up?
I glance over to find Natalie listening to our conversation with interest. Fucking great. “That’s not true.”
“Bullshit. You want her so damn bad. I can see it in your eyes. Which means you won’t really do anything to threaten her pretty ass.” Malcolm shakes his head. “She’s going to take us down, and you’re going to let her.”
“Keep your voice down,” I practically hiss, glaring in Natalie’s direction. She quickly glances away. “I won’t let Wren ruin anything, okay? I’ll make sure she stays quiet.”
“Uh huh,” Ezra says, a shit-eating grin on his face. “The only thing you want to use to keep her quiet is your dick shoved deep in her mouth.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, loud enough that my voice catches Skov’s attention.
A sigh leaves her, and she rests her hands on her hips. “Mr. Lancaster, I really don’t appreciate that kind of language in my classroom.”
“Sorry.” I don’t sound that sorry though, and she knows it.
“Oh, I’m sure you are. Since you can’t seem to settle down just yet, you get to go in search of your psychology partner. Bring her back to the classroom, okay? I’d hate to have to mark her absent.” When I just sit there and gape at her, Skov waves her hands toward the closed door. “Go on. Go. Find Wren, and drag her back in here.”
I grab my bag, so no one rifles through it—I trust not one single jackass in this room—and leave the class, unsure where a scared little virgin might go after getting into a fight with a mean girl and then calling me a dick.
I still can’t believe she said that. Those types of words are not part of her vocabulary. That’s what makes her saying such a thing so shocking.
She’s been doing a lot of things this week that are un-Wren-like.
I meander down the hall, killing time. I check my phone, but nothing’s going on. When I spot a girls’ bathroom, I hesitate, thinking that must be where she is.
Without hesitation, I go to the door and push my way inside, stopping short when I see Wren standing in front of the sink, staring at the mirror. She lifts her gaze to mine in the reflection, her wounded expression trying to tear down the wall encased around my heart.
“What do you want?”
Her voice drips with tears. Any other guy would hate the sound, and I try to convince myself I’m not any other guy. I can look past it. So she’s hurt and she’s been crying.
So what?
But the longer she stares at me with those sad eyes, the guiltier I start to feel.
“Skov sent me to bring you back to class,” I finally say.
She glares. “Tell her I’m not coming.”
“I don’t think you have a choice, Birdy—”
“Don’t call me that!” she screams, whirling around to face me. Her cheeks are damp with fresh tears, and her eyes bloodshot. “Just—go away. You got what you wanted, okay? My self-esteem is in the toilet. I’ve realized I don’t have any real friends. None that actually know me. They don’t ask me how I’m doing, or check in on me to see if I’m okay. No one cares. My life is a complete mess. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
I frown. “Why would I be happy that you’re a mess?”
“Because you hate me. I think you’re trying to drive me out of this school. I know it’s your territory. Eventually you’ll convince everyone I’m not worthy, and I’ll have no choice but to never come back.”
“Oh, come the fuck on, Wren. You’re being melodramatic.”
“Because of you! You make me feel this way.” She throws her arms out. “This is just Crew Lancaster’s world and we’re all merely living in it, right?”
No. It feels like I share my world with Wren, even when I don’t want to. She’s unlike any girl I’ve ever known: an independent thinker, yet a snobby little prude. Despite that snobby exterior, I can tell she cares. She wants people to like her, and she wants to guide girls into what she thinks are the right choices—such as being a prude like her.
She is in search of constant approval.
Attention.
She gets it from all kinds of people.
But not the kind of attention she needs.
The kind only I can give to her.
