12. Dove
Nearly a week passes before I can bring myself to so much as look at Wren. Not that he’s sought me out either, but I have a feeling his reasons are different.
The goal was to scare him. Instead, he could have unzipped my catsuit, and I would have let him crawl inside both it and me.
I stare at the blank screen of my laptop while I pick at a cup of yogurt in the break room. My article was due an hour ago, and it’s still unfinished because all I’ve done is wax nostalgic about Wren’s moans and how badly I want to hear them again. I’m not even mad about Fang anymore. Especially after I called the groomer and they assured me the dye was safe and non-toxic—which I already knew but needed to hear anyway.
Someone walks by, and the unmistakable sound of Wren’s laughter snaps my gaze to his back as he heads for the fridge. He’s on his phone. It’s new—his old one was dark, and this one is light gray—and I hate that I notice this stupid detail.
He grabs a takeout container and slides it into the microwave before turning around. The pouty lips I’ve spent way too much time fantasizing about curve downward as our eyes lock. My chest pinches, my thighs pressing together at the memory of him so hard beneath me.
Wren’s eyes darken with a heat he tries hard to disguise. It’s want and need all rolled into one delectable look. But the moment I decide to try talking to him, he whips around, snatches his lunch, and retreats without a second glance, speaking quietly to whoever is on the other end of his call.
My phone lights up with a text from Bunny, asking if we’re going to the bar tonight. It’s Thursday. She knows that’s where I’ll be, so it’s a little strange she’s even asking, but I bet it has something to do with Hunter. I respond in the affirmative. Collecting my things, I return to my office and shut the door, intent on finishing my work before I leave for the day.
I never get distracted. Never allow myself to veer from my path. But it’s rare that I find obstacles in my way—especially ones that pull my attention like a magnet. With us not talking all week, this should have been the perfect time to get back on track. Instead, I find myself bored. Filling the silence with thoughts of him. Wondering if I should visit him as the Doll again.
He let her in quicker than an egg fries on a hot pan. I want to know why. Need to know what his obsession is with her.
I’m already dead inside. His words from that night have been on repeat every waking moment of every day since.
What happened to you, Songbird?
I think it’s time to find out.
“Wow. You’re mighty dressed up for tacos and tequila,” Bunny teases, reaching for my hand and spinning me in a twirl. “I like the dress, though, and that’s saying a lot because you know how I feel about pink.”
“Isn’t it cute? I know you hate pink, but you love me, and I think you’d love the store. We should go this weekend.” I smooth my hands down the crushed velvet of my spaghetti-strap mini dress, a vintage designer find from SoHo. It’s so soft I want to keep petting myself.
“I do love you. And so will Wrenley when he sees you in that get-up.” She winks, hazel eyes sparkling as she laughs when I rush forward to clasp a hand over her mouth.
Glancing around, I ensure no one from work is within earshot before scolding, “Would you hush? The last thing I need is someone overhearing and thinking I got all dressed up for him.”
She pulls my hand down with a grin that crinkles the red foil hearts over her scar. “You are all dressed up for him,” she jests, walking backward toward our usual spot at the bar just as Vixey rounds the corner with a tray full of drinks.
“Watch out!” I shout.
My friend braces for impact, but to my delighted surprise, Vixey spins gracefully out of the way without spilling a single drop of alcohol. The blonde tips of her long ponytail whip around her head as she throws a smirk over her shoulder. “I swear, you’re just trying to run into me now.”
Bunny clutches her chest in mock horror. “Who? Me? Never!”
“You better not be, Buns,” Alex calls from behind the bar as he fills a pitcher of beer. “You’re not getting any more free drinks from me.”
“Aww, shucks.” Bunny pouts, snapping her fingers in a dramatic swoop that sends her leather jacket slipping off one shoulder. “All right, all right. She’s getting better. I’ll give her that.”
I’m vaguely aware of her ordering our drinks as I scan the bar for Wren and Hunter. Crushing disappointment floods my veins when I spot them at a pool table with two women. Ironically, one is blonde, and the other is brunette. I bristle as the darker-haired one latches onto Wren’s arm.
He smiles at her. That charming, panty-melting, all-teeth, full-lips smile that he’s only ever bestowed upon me when we first met. The brunette looks ready to climb onto the pool table and spread her legs right here in the middle of the bar. I’ve never killed a woman before, never harmed an innocent person whose only crime was occupying the attention of the man I’m lusting over, but there’s a first time for everything, right?
As if he feels my stare, Wren turns his head mid-sentence, his eyes meeting mine almost immediately. Twin pools of dark chocolate drag down my body, and just like earlier, they darken, his jaw clenching with such force I can see it from across the room.
He moves like he’s about to come over—but then stops. His gaze shifts to the entrance. I follow his line of sight and find Ryan stepping inside.
It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since he ghosted me at the bar weeks ago. He doesn’t notice Wren glaring at him, but when his gaze lands on me, he pauses .
“Hey,” I offer, still standing near the bar where Bunny has a stool saved for me.
“Hey,” he replies gruffly, pushing past without another word.
My brows knit. What the hell did I do to piss him off so badly that he won’t even speak to me?
“That was weird. What happened between you two?” Bunny asks.
“I have no idea.” I glance back toward Wren, only to find his focus once again on the brunette. My chest tightens. Shaking my head, I slide onto my stool and down two shots in quick succession. “I honestly don’t understand men.”
“Men don’t even understand men,” Bunny supplies with a sigh.
“Any progress with Hunter?”
“Why would there be progress with Hunter?” She shakes her head like she can’t believe I’d even ask such a question.
I flash her a knowing look, propping my elbows on the bar top and fixing my attention on the group across the way. “Do you know who those women are?”
Bunny snorts. “Nope. And I don’t care. Detective Dick can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants.”
“As long as it’s whatever you want and it’s with you , right?” I don’t miss Hunter’s eyes darting to my friend, as if daring her to go over like she did last time. The game they keep playing with each other is confusing as hell—the longest foreplay I’ve ever witnessed between two people who want each other as badly as they do. He has to have the bluest balls ever.
She flips her blowout over one shoulder and shrugs, making eyes at a random guy sitting catty-corner from us—one who looks like he wants to eat her alive. She’ll give Hunter a dose of his own medicine without a second thought. It makes me wonder. If I do the same, will Wren come to intervene?
Or should I just go over and assert myself? What would he do if I stepped between them and staked a claim I have no right to?
After four shots of tequila, two tacos, and far too many fake-ass giggles from the brunette, I decide I’m ready to find out. Bunny is ignoring me anyway, half-sitting in the random dude’s lap while she keeps shooting Hunter glances, playing him at his own game—and winning. Hunter looks about ready to charge the guy with a crime he didn’t commit.
“Whoa, Love Dove.” Bunny grabs my arm as I slide off my stool and head toward the pool tables. “What are you doing?”
“What I do best.” I sharply turn back to the bar and down one more shot for good measure. “Taking control. ”
Everything that happens next feels like something straight out of a cheesy early-2000s movie. I watch the train wreck unfold as if I’m having an out-of-body experience, secondhand embarrassment creeping up my spine.
Hunter sees me first, jerking his chin in my direction and murmuring something that makes Wren turn. Ignoring the woman standing too close to him, I hold his gaze and march right up. “Do you wanna get out of here?”
Wren’s brows pinch together, an unreadable expression flickering across his face before he schools his features and wraps an arm around the woman’s waist. “Actually, we were just about to leave.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me as he looks at her with a charming smile, reaching up to brush a stray hair from her face. Bitterness paralyzes me. I don’t know why it bothers me. I don’t understand why it… hurts as my eyes bounce between them.
We’re nothing to each other. I was foolish to think otherwise. Wren is attracted to the Doll. To my alter ego—not me.
My cheeks heat, chest tightening with humiliation for even putting myself out there. We’ve been playing this game for weeks, and I keep losing by showing him I want him. But I don’t even want to play anymore.
I want to know him. To make a connection. But even if Wren wants me too, he’s made it clear he won’t act on it, and he’s never seemed interested in me personally.
Obsessions make us weak. My own words come back to me as I furiously blink back the tears that come for no reason other than the amount of tequila running through my bloodstream.
Regaining my composure, I ignore the way his face morphs into something like concern. “Right.” I hate that I can hear the mortification in my tone. Backing away, I end my shitshow with a grand finale, my voice accidentally cracking as I let out a hoarse, “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me to ask. Have a good night, Wrenley.”
His expression shifts like he’s been punched in the gut. We both know I’ve never called him by his full name. I didn’t even mean to. It just slipped out.
I inhale a shaky breath and turn, willing the tears not to fall as I walk away. Behind me, I hear Hunter growl, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” It’s followed by a heavy thump—like he might have thrown something onto the pool table.
By the time I make it back to our spot, Bunny is staring at me with a sympathetic expression that makes my sinuses burn. “Oh, Love Dove. You wanna get out of?—”
She cuts herself off, her eyes darting behind me with sudden alarm. Spinning around, I see Hunter striding toward us like a man on a mission. He speaks to Bunny first, though his whiskey-colored eyes never leave mine.
“Bunny, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.” He doesn’t stop walking, cradling my face in his palms as he bends low. “Dove, just fucking go with it.”
Then his lips are on mine, and I’m too shocked to do anything but stand there frozen while the stupid man who’s in love with my best friend kisses me right in front of her.