IT’S AGONY, having Crew so close, yet I’m unable to talk to him. I have so many questions to ask, every one of them having to do with last night and what happened between him and Natalie.
I want to believe it was just a coincidence, that they somehow ran into each other, but the doubt creeps in, as it usually does. Only a few weeks ago, he hated me. Antagonized me every chance he got. Who’s to say it isn’t some sort of trick on Crew’s part? A way for him to get close to me, only to make me the laughingstock of the entire school?
My stomach roils at that thought. God, I think I’m going to be sick.
He taps me on the shoulder and I turn, my gaze meeting his, and he must see the worry on my face, though he chooses to ignore it. His expression is deadly serious. “Can I borrow a piece of paper?”
Frowning, I say, “Sure?”
“I forgot my bag in my room,” he explains. “I don’t even have my book.”
“Do you want to borrow my copy?” I offer, wishing I could smack myself.
I need to stop being so nice to him. He might not deserve it.
“Yeah. Please.”
“Wren. Crew.” Figueroa’s expression is stern. He’s being extra strict this morning, though I’m sure a lot of that has to do with me and how I just confronted him. I sent a quick text to Maggie earlier asking where she was, and she still hasn’t answered me.
I’m worried.
“I forgot my stuff. She’s helping me out,” Crew says to Fig.
I hand Crew a few sheets of paper, a pencil and my copy of The Great Gatsby, his fingers brushing mine during the exchange, making me shiver. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
“You’re welcome.” I turn around, taking a deep breath, feeling stupid. I remember everything that happened between us last night. Every single thing, and I don’t want to regret it.
But something is telling me I could. Maybe things aren’t what they seem between us. What if he’s been using me the entire time? If Crew didn’t mean any of things he said or did these last couple of weeks…
I’m going to die of humiliation. I will never want to face him again.
He’s quiet for the rest of class, which is only around fifteen minutes since he arrived so late. By the time the bell rings, he’s bolting out of his seat, dropping the book on top of my desk, a folded piece of paper in it, the edges just showing. I glance up at him in question.
“Meet me at lunch, out back where you caught me and the guys. You know the spot?” He lifts his brows.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
He taps the book with the pencil I gave him. “Read what’s in there.”
I nod again. I assume he’s referring to the note.
His gaze locked on my mouth, he murmurs, “Bye, Birdy.”
He’s gone in a flash and I gather up my things, shoving everything in my backpack and am about to leave the classroom when Fig speaks up.
“You know you should avoid him. He’s only going to break your heart.”
I send him a look. “Is that a warning?”
“Just want you to be safe, Wren. And that boy is definitely not safe. He’s already toying with your heart and Natalie’s.”
I hate that he brought her up. He’s believing the rumors just like everyone else.
“Is that what you want?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything. “To share him with someone else?”
His words, his assumption that I want his opinion about my personal life, is infuriating. The man crosses boundaries all the time, as if he has the right.
“You know what you should do?” I stand, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
Fig frowns. “What?”
“Mind your own damn business.”
I flounce out of there before he can say anything else, shock coursing through me at the way I just told off a teacher. How I actually cursed at him. I never do that.
I never say bad words. It’s like I spend a little time with Crew and I’m changing. Becoming stronger. Finding my voice.
I think I like it.
I race to my second period class, falling into my chair in record time, my hands shaking as I pull the paperback out of my backpack and crack it open to find the folded note inside. With trembling fingers, I open it, my gaze trying to decipher his bold, messy writing.
Don’t let anyone read this. Last night after you went inside, I saw Figueroa drop off Natalie in the parking lot. I confronted her about it and she got mad. Tried to attack me. That’s what happened when we were caught. I wasn’t hooking up with her. She’s hooking up with Fig. Don’t believe the rumors. I’ll tell you more at lunch. Please believe me.
PS – I can’t stop thinking about you and that Blow Pop.
A tiny smile curls my lips and I shove the note back between the pages of The Great Gatsby, then put the book away in my backpack.
I believe him. I have to. There’s no way he could do everything that he did with me, and then get with Natalie immediately afterward. I just—I can’t even wrap my head around it.
It’s like my brain won’t let me.
I pass through the rest of the morning in a haze. Always searching for Maggie—she still hasn’t texted me back—or trying to tune out the rumors about Crew and Natalie. They’re rampant.
It’s all anyone can talk about.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m an internal mess, trying to keep it together. Still no Maggie to be found. I’m supposed to meet Crew and I’m scared to hear what he has to say, but there’s no way I’m not meeting with him.
I have to see him. I need reassurance.
As I’m leaving my fifth period class, I spot Natalie in the hall, our gazes locking for the briefest moment, hers knowing. That devilish smile on her face, as if she’s aware she’s messed up my world and there’s no coming back from it.
And she really doesn’t care.
I look away from her first, hating that I gave in, but I don’t want to have a confrontation in the hall with her that everyone would witness. That’ll make everything even worse.
Gosh, I really, really don’t like her.
Heading outside, I tuck my coat around me, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one’s paying attention to where I’m going. But it’s so cold, everyone is pretty much in the dining hall, where I wish I was too.
Or maybe not.
Honestly, I wish I could run away from this place and never look back. Preferably with Crew by my side.
I walk behind the building where I found Crew and his friends doing drugs, and that moment seems like such a long time ago. So much has happened in such a short amount of time, it’s overwhelming.
I come to a stop when I see Crew standing there, his back to me, his face tilted toward the sky. He turns, as if he can sense I’m behind him, and then as if I have no control, I’m running toward him, his arms going wide as I practically throw myself at him. He holds me close, his mouth at my forehead, his hard, hot body warming the chill I haven’t been able to shake since I woke up this morning to Maggie knocking on my door.
“Birdy, you’re shaking,” he murmurs against my temple, just before he kisses it.
I melt against him, closing my eyes, savoring how tight he’s holding me. “Everything is a mess.”
“I know. But we have options.” He slips his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face up. “We either ignore it and wait for another scandal to replace this one or…”
I frown, hating that option. “Or what?”
A sigh leaves him. “Or I expose Figueroa publicly and tell everyone he was with Natalie last night.’
Oh, that’s right. We haven’t even discussed that yet.
“You really saw him with Natalie last night?”
“After you went inside, I saw a car pull into the parking lot. I ducked behind a bush when I realized it was Figueroa’s and waited to see who would get out of his car. I thought it would be Maggie.”
“He was supposed to meet her last night,” I whisper. “He texted her, said something else came up. She told me this morning.”
“Yeah, because he was with Natalie.” Crew’s expression is thunderous. “I told Matthews what I saw. He’ll have to report it to the authorities. She’s a minor.”
“This will devastate Maggie. She’s in love with him.” I don’t tell him about her being pregnant.
“In the end, she’ll know it was the right thing to do. He’s a creep. He’s playing two girls this semester, and he’s been doing it for years.” He scowls. “He was going to try and get with you next. I know he was.”
A shiver moves through me at the thought. Would I have fallen for it? Before Crew came along and disrupted my world, I might’ve. I don’t know. We’ll never know. “He probably hates me now. I told him to stay out of my business at the end of class, after you left.”
Crew’s brows shoot up. “You did?”
I nod, feeling bad over what I said to him, even though he deserved it. I don’t mention he was warning me off Crew. “And I never talk back to a teacher.”
He smiles. “My little birdy is getting her wings.”
“Stop.” I roll my eyes.
“It’s true.” He slowly runs his fingers through my hair. “I hate the rumors that are out there right now. Natalie’s not stopping them. She told Matthews we were meeting up last night before we got caught.”
My stomach cramps. “Seriously?”
He nods. “She doesn’t want Figueroa to get caught. I know it. Why the hell do they all protect him so much? He doesn’t deserve it.”
I grab hold of the front of his coat, clutching the heavy wool. “Be real with me right now, Crew.”
His expression turns somber. “About what? I’ve told you the truth.”
“So you really didn’t—hook up with Natalie last night?” My voice is a whisper, barely heard. Carried away on the wind.
“No,” he says vehemently. “I was with you. All I could think about was you. And how good you tasted.”
My cheeks go hot, despite the cold air. “Crew.”
“I’m serious.” He ducks his head, nuzzling my face with his, his breath hot against my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” I whisper.
“Natalie is fucking everything up. I should’ve minded my own business and kept walking when I saw the car lights pull in, but I had to know.” He presses his mouth to my cheek, seeming to breathe me in.
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to his chest. “I don’t like her. But you’re doing the right thing, Crew.”
“You really think so?”
I nod, then look up at him. “Yes.”
He kisses me, so gently I almost want to cry. Who knew this boy could be so sweet?
“You coming over tonight to finish watching the movie?”
I’m sure that’s code for messing around.
“I shouldn’t,” I answer. “Everyone’s probably watching you.”
I can sense the disappointment radiating off of him, but we can’t risk it—and he knows it. “Maybe tomorrow? It’s a Friday. Curfew isn’t as strict. Or are you going home?”
“I’m not going home until winter break.”
He stiffens, squeezing me closer to him. “Where are you going for break?”
“Nowhere. We’re spending it at home.” I hesitate, wondering if I should ask. Then I do. “Are you going home?”
He nods. “I’ll be at my parents’ apartment on the Upper East Side.”
“Oh.” Our parents are practically neighbors. “Maybe we could see each other.”
A slow smile spreads across his handsome face. “You want to, Birdy?”
He sounds surprised.
“I don’t know.” I shrug one shoulder, and he clutches my waist beneath my coat, trying to tickle me. “Stop! That tickles!”
“Stop trying to act like you don’t care, when I know you do.” He pulls me in so close I’m completely pressed against him, our lower bodies stuck together like glue. “It’s okay to admit that you like me.”
“I shouldn’t,” I tell him truthfully. “After everything you’ve put me through lately. For the last three years, actually.”
His expression turns somber. “I’m an asshole.”
“Yes, you are,” I agree.
“Birdy.” He sounds shocked.
“I didn’t say it. I just agreed with it.” I smile.
So does he.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he tells me, his mouth hovering above mine. “I promise.”
He kisses me.
And I can’t help it.
I believe him.
