Chapter Eleven – Wren
The first week of class is always an adjustment.
You learn your route, your classes, your professors, before the real work begins.
I stupidly hope my little outburst at Logan was enough to make him sit somewhere else, but when Wednesday afternoon rolls around, the jerk still sits beside me in the front row.
I make it a point to give him the back of my head and stare in the opposite direction. I’m not proud of my outburst, of anything I told him. In fact, I probably said too much. It wasn’t like me. It was mean. Just because he’s a jerk doesn’t mean I should be one, too.
But, that said, just because I might regret what I told him doesn’t mean I want to talk to him or even see him ever again.
Alas, it seems this semester I’m going to be seeing him a lot.
“Feeling better today?” he asks, clearly not getting the hint that I don’t want to talk to him. “Or are you still pouting?”
Pouting? Why I oughta…
I grind my jaw and flip my head in his direction, meeting his green eyes. “I’m not pouting.”
Those pretty eyes of his fall, though where they fall, I don’t know. My lips, my chin, my collarbone; somewhere below my nose. “See, you say that, but I just don’t hear the heart behind it. You’re definitely still pouting about that ex of yours—”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can you please not bring him up?”
“Hmm. How about you come home with me and you can help me keep my mouth occupied with something else?”
“Is that all you want, sex?” I have to say the last word quietly, not wanting anyone around us to hear.
“That’s what you wanted last week. Why is it so wrong if that’s all I want?”
“It’s not,” I whisper, “but I’m not… that’s not me.
What happened last week won’t happen again.
It’s not what I want. I—” I swallow. “—you helped, but I don’t need your help again.
” With a quick glance at the clock, I see that we have ten minutes before class begins, and I can’t help but wonder if Logan got here earlier so he could talk to me.
Ugh, why?
Logan is quiet for a while, but eventually he whispers, “When you said… you said you wanted to know what it was like. You meant going home with a stranger, right? You didn’t mean—” When I glance at him, it must be written on my face, because he frowns at me and says, “Shit. No wonder your ex cheated on you. Four years with no sex? I sure as fuck couldn’t do it—”
I do my best to tune him out, and I tune him out by standing and declaring, “I need to pee.” It shuts him up well enough as I hurry up the steps and out of the auditorium.
I leave all my things, so he knows I’m not abandoning the class—I wouldn’t put it past him to come after me again.
Telling him I’m going to the restroom is the only way I could think of to make him not follow me.
I don’t go to the restroom, though. I stop the moment I make it out into the hall, and I go to lean on the wall next to the auditorium door. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes.
Of course he’d say that. He’s a guy, a guy who obviously likes to have sex and hookup with anybody he can. Yes, sex could apparently be mind-blowing, but… but sex isn’t life. Sex shouldn’t be the ultimate factor whether you want to be with someone or not. Maybe that’s a naive view.
“You all right—Wren, is it?” A masculine voice pulls me back to reality, and when I open my eyes and lower my chin, I see Professor Scott standing before me, a bag strung over his wide shoulders. He studies me with concern on his handsome face.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.” I let my gaze fall to our feet. He stands two feet away from me, but even then, his feet are so much bigger than mine—but what else would you expect from a guy that’s so tall? I think, standing at my straightest, I reach his chest.
The smile he gives me is carried by the dimples on his clean-shaven cheeks. “Once more, with feeling.”
“What?”
He chuckles. “I mean, try saying it again, more believable this time. You’re obviously not fine. Something’s bothering you. If you don’t want the world to know it, you have to try a little harder than that.”
Advice about faking it from my psychology professor? I don’t know whether to laugh or not.
Other students slip past us, going into the auditorium, paying us no mind. I say, “Oh. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Dreading my class that much? I told you I’m not a hard-ass.”
For some strange reason, heat creeps up my cheeks. “That’s not…”
The smile he gives me is dazzling, and ridiculously handsome.
It actually makes me weak at the knees, as silly as it is.
“I figured it wasn’t. You seem like the kind of student who never misses a single class.
I bet you always pay attention, too—that’ll come in handy.
At least I know when I’m up there lecturing, I’ll have you enraptured. ”
I chuckle softly, and he says, “There’s a smile.
I knew eventually it’d have to surface.” He grabs the strap on his shoulder and adjusts it.
“Well, I suppose I’ll see you inside. Whatever’s bothering you, I hope my lecture helps.
” He gives me one last grin before turning away from me, and I watch him disappear into the auditorium.
Focusing on him might be the only way I can get through this class. Ignore Logan and put all of my attention on the professor, who just happens to be one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. Should be easy.
I let out a slow breath, gathering myself. I need to not let Logan get to me.
Holding my head high, I return to my seat, slipping in it carefully so as to avoid Logan’s outstretched legs. The jerk thinks since he’s got long legs he can spread them anywhere he wants. I meet eyes with Professor Scott as he unpacks his things at the podium, and he sends another smile my way.
Logan sounds slightly annoyed, “You know—”
I keep my cool when I glance at the miffed guy beside me. He seems totally fine dredging up what I said, something that’s clearly a sore subject for me, so I decide to use the last few minutes before class starts to talk about something else: “I saw your room of guitars. You play?”
It’s funny. He’s so used to pressing my buttons that he isn’t used to anybody pressing his.
The expression on his face changes, darkening as he scowls at me, suddenly grumpy.
“No. I just like to collect them like fucking sports cards.” His voice has an edge to it, like I’ve touched on something he’d rather not talk about.
Look who’s touchy now.
“You any good, or do you just use the guitars to get into girls’ pants?” Either way, I don’t care, but now that I know it’s not something he wants to talk about, it gives me some ammunition against him. Helps level the playing field.
“That’s none of your goddamned business,” he mutters, and I actually think he’s going to stand up and choose another seat, but it’s too late for that. The clock metaphorically chimes, and class begins.
And just like that, it becomes easy to pay attention to Professor Scott, easy to ignore the brooding, upset guy to my left.
With any luck, this means he won’t sit by me again…
although, if I’m honest, the visceral reaction, the sudden change in his demeanor, it makes me wonder just why he’s so upset at the mention of his guitars.
Later that day, Sloane gets pizza delivered. The three of us eat in the living room, watching some silly show none of us really care about. Elias sits in the corner of the couch, next to Sloane, while I take the cushion the furthest away from them.
Turns out, having a roomie loaded with money means I rarely have to buy food. Definitely a plus.
Sloane, with a mouthful of pizza, says to me, “You’ve been quiet all week.”
I shrug as I pick at the peperoni on the pizza. I’m a cheese person. The peperoni I could take or leave, but one thing I draw the line at is when the pizza places overcook the peperoni, so they end up all shriveled and blackened and charred. Gross.
“Something bothering you?” she asks.
Beside her, Elias huffs, “If she doesn’t want to talk, let her not talk. She’s probably just a quiet person.” He’s not wrong. I’m not somebody who likes to talk just to hear her own voice.
Now, singing? That used to be a different story.
I’d belt out songs any chance I could. It started when I was younger.
When I got home from school, I had the house to myself for a few hours, before my mom came home with my sister from daycare after work.
I’d do my homework, and then I’d pretend the living room was a stage and the judges sat on the couch.
I pretended to audition for American Idol and The Voice, rotating my songs and mentally chiding myself when I missed a note or my voice fell flat.
Now? My will to sing is gone. Dead. I don’t think I’ve even listened to any music since discovering the two most important people in my life going behind my back.
Still, even though we aren’t besties or anything, Sloane and Elias are pretty much the only people I have. Might as well just tell them.
“Remember that guy I left the club with last week? He’s in my psych class. I thought I’d never have to see him again. It’s what I wanted, but now he’s…” I sigh.
“Oh, yeah. You said you have Professor Scott, right?” Sloane smirks.
“He’s cute.” The moment those words leave her lips, Elias gives her the deadliest expression known to mankind, but it only makes her laugh.
“Simmer down. I’m just saying, at least she has someone else she can focus on if she wants to ignore Mr. Club. ”
“Mr. Club’s name is Logan,” I mutter, “and he’s making it impossible to ignore him.”
“Hmm. At least your professor’s hot.”
Elias prickles, his jealousy evident. “Which is it? Cute or hot?”
Sloane grins at her boyfriend. “Why does it matter?”
“Cute is whatever. Cute’s a fucking puppy dog. Hot is the kind of guy you’d want railing you, so which is it?”
She playfully slaps his cheek and says, “Don’t worry. You’re the only hot guy I want railing me.” She tosses an amused glance my way. “Now, Wren, on the other hand…”
My cheeks heat up. If I’m understanding what she’s inferring, then—then I’d rather not finish that thought. “Professor Scott is, um, nice to look at, but I don’t really want to imagine doing anything like that with him. Logan was enough. I learned my lesson.”
“There’s no lesson,” Sloane says. “And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do things like that. We’re all adults here. We don’t judge.” She licks her lower lip and leans into Elias. “Elias and me, nobody wanted us to be together, but here we are, a year and a half later.”
“Why didn’t anyone want you two to date?” I ask, curious. Elias seems intense most of the time, maybe a teeny-weeny bit toxic, but Sloane doesn’t seem to mind it one bit. Birds of a feather, I guess.
Elias and Sloane share a meaningful look, and all my roomie says is, “That’s a story for another day.
Don’t want to scare you off yet.” She says that good-naturedly, but I detect an underlying hint of truth to it.
Whatever it is, whatever reason everyone thought she and Elias shouldn’t be together, is serious, and to me, it is unnerving.
Sloane goes on, “You know, the perfect way to not let Logan get under your skin is to get under someone else.”
“That’s what you said about my ex,” I say.
“And it worked, didn’t it?” When I give her a look, she chuckles. “Maybe not, but you had fun, didn’t you? At least in the moment, you forgot about your ex, so why not try it again? I wouldn’t know, but I assume there are multiple flavors of dick you could try out around here.”
With a grunt, Elias shakes his head. “Don’t know if you’re the best person to give advice about anything.”
“Whatever. Do or don’t, but you should move on from that rotten ex of yours. It’s not healthy to wallow so much.” That much, at least, is probably true. “Think about it. The three of us could go out this weekend. There’s got to be some frat party we could crash.”
A frat party. Don’t know if I want to go to a frat party, but then again, I didn’t really want to go to the club either. Doing something like that, much like what I did at the club, would probably be a mistake I’d only regret, but at this point…
At this point, it’s clear what I was doing before didn’t work. Being good in all aspects of my life? It got me nowhere. Logan’s personality aside, I did have fun. The orgasms were nice. I’d be lying if I say I haven’t thought about it this past week.
Maybe Sloane is right. Maybe I need to let loose a little. Live it up. I’m in college, for goodness sake. It’s time to have some fun, enjoy being young before the responsibilities of adulthood turn me into a depressed, cynical woman waiting for the end of the world to finally hit.
She must detect my thoughts, because Sloane gives me the widest smile ever. “Don’t worry, girl. Leave it to me. I’ll pull you out of your shell.”