Chapter 6
Ishove my hands deeper in my pockets, ignoring my buzzing phone as I walk toward the illuminated tent ahead. The massive tent. For shade earlier, I guess? Not a single drop of rain fell today.
Everyone knows where the annual Red, White, and Blue party takes place.
Few people know about the cove around the corner from the Ellsworth compound. If more did, I’m guessing they’d have a security guard stationed there.
I trample through the last of the undergrowth and finally reach sand. The first guy I see is wearing a suit. Full suit, tie and everything.
I swapped my marina polo for a plain T-shirt before driving here, thinking the khaki shorts would pass for a beach party.
I was wrong. The next group of guys I see have tuxedos on. I might as well be wearing a neon sign advertising does not belong.
My jaw clenches as I continue trekking through the sand. A few people glance my way, trading whispers behind glasses of champagne.
Showing up here was stupid. My buzzing phone is likely evidence Gus or some of my other friends are questioning the vague I’ve got something to take care of text I sent to the group in response to their shared plans to watch the fireworks down by the pier.
Depending how long this takes, I might miss it entirely.
But this is the only place I could think of to track her down. And possibly my last chance to, if she’s leaving right after the holiday.
So, here I am.
The closer I get to the tent, the more I comprehend the scale of this party. Up closer to the house is the main event. The crowd down on the private beach is undoubtedly younger. Most are luxuriously dressed, but a few closer to the shoreline have stripped down to swimwear.
I recognize no one. I’m sure some have been to the Atlantic Yacht Club to go out on parents’ or grandparents’ boats, but they all tend to blend together in my mind. Except for one, of course, who’s nowhere to be seen.
Shouts draw my attention to the far side of the private beach, opposite from the end I trespassed from.
She changed her hair. It’s shorter, the pink gone, the new length falling just past her shoulders. But I’m certain it’s her, even before she turns and volleys an inflated, striped ball at a giggling brunette.
I head that way, tucking my hands into my pockets and hovering at the edge of the tent as I watch the chaotic game that appears to be a mix of volleyball and soccer.
Wren is wearing a strapless red dress and no shoes. She’s also the most dedicated player on the makeshift court, tackling the role of referee and player. She declares out of bounds, even though there are no obvious lines on the ground, and no one argues with the assessment.
Watching her, I’m tempted to turn and leave before she spots me. She’s laughing and vibrant, unbothered. I’m not even sure what I came here to say. I was annoyed she had shown up last night, and she had technically been invited. I’m undeniably crashing.
But I linger too long, watching her compete. The teams drift apart, like time expired, even though there’s no visible clock. Most players head for the open bar under the tent.
Except for one.
Wren walks straight to me, pausing a few feet away with an expectant expression and windblown hair.
“Wren Kensington.” I drawl her full name, partly to cover for the fact that I looked too long before talking.
Her beauty is blinding. Something you stare at, even knowing you shouldn’t. Also, I had no clue she’d seen me. I certainly hadn’t expected her to stride over here.
“Captain.” She mimics my tone, extending each syllable. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“I’m busy.”
“I’ll wait.”
She raises one eyebrow, but she doesn’t look surprised. More scheming. “Have fun,” she says cheerfully, then sashays away.
A group of four guys call her over as soon as she enters the tent. All four are wearing suits, signifying they’re invited guests. Another commonality: they’re all staring at her with obvious interest.
I turn, joining the line for the open bar.
My guess is, Wren is going to be “busy” for a while. Might as well enjoy a free drink in the meantime.
Three hours later, a lone figure strolls my way, swinging a pair of heels in one hand.
I’ve been reclined in the same spot on the dunes for the past hour, since the fireworks ended, nursing a beer that’s now warm.
Watching the party lights reflect off the waves’ choppy surface.
Occasionally surveying the festivities. I’ll say this much for rich people: they’re entertaining.
One girl was bragging about buying a new mattress for her rental this weekend—to ensure she wasn’t sleeping on a bed someone else had used.
Another guy was loudly discussing getting a new Porsche because he didn’t like the color of his current one anymore.
I’ve heard similar stories from Cammie, but firsthand, they sound even more outrageous.
Wren sinks on the sand to my left. She leans back on her palms, then glances at me. Tucks a shorter strand of hair behind one ear, revealing a twinkling diamond earring. She smells the same as last night, mixed with salty air and smoke. “You stayed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask abruptly. I’ve been sitting here forever, so my interest in small talk is nonexistent.
Her nose scrunches. “Tell you what?”
“That it was your first time.”
Wren stares at me, and I can’t gain the slightest sense of what she’s thinking.
“There was … blood on the condom,” I add awkwardly, wishing for the thousandth time that Wade had tissues handy and I’d never turned that light on. She hadn’t wanted me to know, obviously, and I spent all day trying to forget. Ended up here anyway.
“So?” she finally says. “I thought my period had ended. Guess it hadn’t. Did you want a calendar of my menstrual cycle, or does that cover it?”
Now it’s my turn to assess and stay quiet. It’s a reasonable explanation, so why don’t I believe her?
“You’re … okay, then? I didn’t, uh, hurt you?”
I’m so uncomfortable; it feels like ants are crawling all over my skin. Sex is a physical act. It’s never involved talking after—at least for me—and I’m very aware of why I’ve always avoided this. It’s weird as hell.
But I can’t stand and walk away. Not yet. I need to know she’s okay first.
And there’s some part of me that simply wanted to see her one final time.
“You didn’t hurt me,” Wren answers. She’s turned her face toward the water, so all I can see is her profile.
“Okay.” For some fucking idiotic reason, I don’t leave it there. I ask, “Did you come?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought you had.”
“It’s fine. Doesn’t usually happen for me.”
My jaw tightens. Maybe she wasn’t a virgin. That thought should relieve me, not piss me off more. Some part of me liked that she’d trusted me with something special. I should be glad I was just a rich-girl rebellion she’ll go home and laugh with her friends about. That’s not messy or meaningful.
“It should.”
“Cool. I’ll let the next guy know.” She’s drawing circles in the sand between us with one finger, meaningless loops that look like a challenge.
I huff what’s meant to be a laugh, but it comes out more as a regular old scoff. I can’t figure Wren out. She keeps surprising me.
She glances up, finger pausing. For a few—or maybe a lot of—seconds, we stare at each other. I’m annoyed with her. More annoyed with myself. I don’t know what to say. I’m not going to admit I came so hard that I couldn’t tell if she had. That I lasted for as long as possible.
Wren smirks at my disgruntled expression. “You asked.”
“I know.”
We both hear the irritation in my tone, and Wren’s smile widens before her gaze drops to the sand. The circles resume.
“You free tomorrow night?” I say, topping the list of dumb things I’ve done tonight.
“No.” The circles have stopped, but she doesn’t look up. “That’s our last night here. There’s a big family dinner. But”—the drawing resumes—“I could sneak out after it.”
“You know how to get to the marina?” I hope my voice doesn’t betray the irregular thud in my chest.
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you there. Midnight.”
Wren salutes me. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
I snort as I stand. “Happy Fourth.”
She calls, “You too,” after me.
The entire trek back to my truck, I have to battle the urge to look back. But if I did, there’s a chance someone would see the grin stuck on my face.