27. Wren
Ididn’t mean to run, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. Standing there to let them see me cry was out of the question.
I could handle a lot of things, but Jordan was my weakness, the same way I had once been his.
The only problem with running is that you typically need somewhere to go, and I don’t.
I’m running blindly until I stop in front of a door, and suddenly, I’m not sure if this is a good idea or not.
Actually, I know it’s not.
I take a step back as I try to think of somewhere else, but I come up mostly blank.
Usually I’d run to the library, but I don’t want Felix to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, so why I came here in the first place makes no sense.
I panic, trying to remember where the closest bathroom is when the door opens, and I’m face-to-face with Dimitri.
“Wren?”
I frantically wipe at my face, willing the tears to stop, but to my horror, they only seem to come faster.
“I…” My voice catches, and I hear how pathetic I sound, so for the second time today, I do the only thing that seems to be an option and run.
But this time, I don’t get far.
“Wren, stop.” His hand closes around my arm, and he pulls me back toward him.
I see his face for all of two seconds before I’m pulled further into his embrace, and the world goes dark.
His arms wrap around me, and his deep, musky caramel scent consumes me.
He’s like a man meets a candy shop, tempting and delicious, and despite barely knowing him, I feel myself relax.
I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, but I can’t deny that this is what I needed.
Someone who gave a damn.
I’d been looking for someone who cared the way Jordan used to, and while that might not be Dimitri, I think he’s as close as I’m going to get.
As close as I’ll let myself get, because even as I feel myself relax, I know this is a terrible idea.
I hear the door click closed, and I realize he must have moved us into the office.
That’s probably better than standing in the hall where anyone could see us and get the wrong idea.
Though with the way his arms feel wrapped around me, I’m not sure there is a right idea.
He doesn’t say anything for a while, simply holding me as I continue to cry in earnest for the first time since Jordan died, and somehow even his silence feels comforting.
It’s not until my tears slow, and I can breathe without sounding like I’m gasping for air, that I feel him even slightly adjust, and I very quickly realize that not only am I in his arms but on his lap. I pull back and find him far closer than I was prepared for.
“I—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…” I stumble over my words as he looks at me, his gaze so intense that I lose my train of thought and have to start over again. “I mean, I didn’t have anywhere else to go…”
I trail off and attempt to pull away, knowing I’m not doing myself any favors here.
“I want you to always come to me if you need help, Wren,” he says, and the intensity in his eyes catches me off guard. “It’s my job to help you,” he says almost as an afterthought, and I can’t help but look down at my ass, which is very much still sitting on his lap.
Somehow, I don’t think this is part of the job, and he must see where my head went because he’s quick to change the subject.
“What happened?”
I sniffle and wipe my eyes; just thinking about the conversation makes my eyes prickle, and I hate it.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head as I try to pull away again.
He’s not buying it, though, and I guess that means I’m not going anywhere either because the arm that’s still wrapped around my waist pulls me tighter.
“Bullshit, Wren. You don’t go running through the school crying at six in the morning because of nothing,” he snaps, and I avert my gaze, instead looking at his plain gray T-shirt.
I’ve never seen him in such relaxed clothes, and there’s no denying it looks good.
Well, minus the wet mark on his left pec from where I’d just spent the last however long crying like a baby.
I take a deep breath and let my eyes fall closed, hoping to be able to keep myself under control this time. Or at the very least, stop myself from breaking down again.
“I don’t really know. Gavin was stomping around the dorm, slamming doors.
He’s mad that I’m in their space, and he’s hated me since we were kids.
I get it, but Julian got upset and told him to knock it off, said it was too early.
I’m not sure of the exact words spoken because I’d only just woken up, but I could tell they were going to fight.
I could hear it in their tone and see it in their posture… ”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and let my eyes fall closed as my emotions threaten to choke me again.
I hate this.
“I never meant to make them fight. I don’t want to be the reason they don’t get along. I just want to pass and graduate so I can finally be free.”
“Why the tears, though?” He tucks his finger under my chin and gently guides my head back up until our eyes meet. “Gavin being a bitch doesn’t seem like something that you would let make you cry.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he doesn’t know me, but as I mull over what he just said, I wonder if maybe he does because he’s right.
He holds my gaze, cocking a brow when I don’t answer, and I look away.
Bad idea, he’s still holding my chin, which means I can’t do much more than look down, and that leaves me staring at his lips.
His very plush-looking pink lips and… is that a hole? Beneath his lip on the right side, it looks like he might have had a piercing once upon a time.
As if he needed to be hotter.
“Wren.”
I snap my eyes back up to his, feeling my cheeks heat. There’s no way he didn’t notice me blatantly gawking. I half expect him to be angry; it would be warranted, seeing how inappropriate that is, but he isn’t. I dare say it might even be the opposite.
That can’t be right…
“He said I was out all night, probably being a whore…” The words come out almost as if of their own accord, and I cringe when I hear the way they tremble. “Like Jordan.” I hardly get those last two words out; my voice so quiet that if he wasn’t right here, I’m not sure he would have heard me.
“What?!” His outrage startles me. I watch his eyes blaze, but beyond that, it warms something in my chest.
Dimitri might be my guidance counselor and even my professor, but he doesn’t have to care like this; nobody else ever has.
“I’m gonna beat his ass,” he says, pushing to stand, his arm still holding me to him, taking me with him as he moves toward the door, and suddenly it’s not so heart-warming.
“No! Stop, it’s fine!” I insist, but he ignores me and continues toward the door.
Everything about this is bad.
Not only are we in a compromising position, but I also don’t need him to go and beat Gavin up! I highly doubt the school would be happy to have a professor beating on a student, not to mention something tells me it wouldn’t make Gavin hate me less.
“Dimitri!” I reach up, slapping my hands to each of his cheeks, and yank his head down so that he has no choice but to acknowledge me.
“It’s fine,” I say slowly, stretching the words out so that maybe he will believe me, but I see the way his jaw ticks, and I know he isn’t about to let this go.
With a sigh, I let my hands drop to his shoulders and lean into his chest, looking for the strength I know I’m going to need for this conversation.
“They don’t know.”
That does the trick.
He stops at the door, and while clinging to him like this was strange a few minutes ago, I can’t deny I’m coming to enjoy the feel of him and how he holds so tight against him.
It’s almost as if I were meant to be here, like we fit together.
It’s a funny thought, because I’ve never fit anywhere before, and to think here in my professor's arms would be the first place.
Yeah, that would be just my luck.
“They don’t know what?” he asks, and the rough grit of his voice lets me know he’s still upset while also telling me my hormones control way too much of my brain.
Down, girl, now is not the time.
I pull back and peek up at him through my lashes, licking my suddenly very dry lips as I attempt to find the words that I would give anything not to be true.
“I didn’t tell them he’s dead.”
“Fuck, Wren,” he curses as his eyes soften and his brows pull down in a frown.
The emotion in his voice is enough to make my eyes well up again, and I groan in annoyance.
“Crying is nothing to be ashamed of,” he tells me, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Crying is weakness, just like love.” The words come out like second nature, a pull cord saying that was beaten into me as a child, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m just sick of crying,” I tell him, waving off his confused look before he can ask more questions. “I just needed somewhere safe…”
I think about it for a second before I amend that, because it’s not like I came here for the office.
“Someone safe.”
I don’t know who moves first or if we both move at the same time, but honestly, I couldn't care less who’s responsible as his lips brush mine and that feeling of belonging intensifies, filling me with so many more emotions that I fear I might just burst.
And then reality sets in.
I just kissed my professor...
Scratch that, I’m still kissing him.
I pull back hard enough that I nearly tumble to the floor, but he manages to keep me in his arms as he looks me over, as if worried something is wrong with me.
And it is, obviously, so incredibly wrong because as I look back at him, all I can picture is doing that again.
“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I won’t say anything. I—”
My rambling is cut short when he leans back in, once again pressing his lips to mine and shutting me up.
This kiss is gentle, just a simple brushing of our lips, but it’s enough to make my heart race and my breathing labored.
He pulls back this time, and all I can do is stare.
“Don’t be sorry.”
“But…” So many things run through my head, but the biggest one is he could lose his job, and I’m sure I’d probably get in some kind of trouble too.
“Don’t worry about any of that, whatever is going on in that pretty little head.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I swear I nearly melt into a puddle of goo. “So long as you're happy.”
His lips drag over my skin before he pulls back, looking down at me, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s looking for confirmation that this is what I want.
Is it?
I take a second to look at him and wonder why me before I push the thought away.
I’ll never think I’m good enough, not for him or anyone else.
But even knowing this can’t possibly last or end well, I can’t deny I want this—him.
I want someone to run to, to feel safe with, someone I can kiss and feel like I belong, not like I’m a burden.
I’ve only ever had that once, and it was so brief...
No, thinking of him now is a terrible idea. He doesn’t deserve more of my time than I’m already giving him. Ever since he texted me back a few weeks ago, I’d been dreaming of him, of that one night we had, but it’s time to move past that.
Instead of answering, I lean in and press my lips to his cheek. When I pull back, he has the most adorable smile on his lips, and I can’t help but smile back.
“Well, maybe we should just have our meeting now since I’m already here.”
“I don’t know. I think your coming back might be a good idea.” He wiggles his brows at me, and I chuckle, leaning in to rest my head on his shoulder again.
I’m not sure this will work out. Well, actually, I’m almost positive it won’t, but it feels good, easy in a way I’m not used to.
“Come on, we can talk about Jordan and your classes,” he says, moving past his desk to the little sofa he has against the far wall, dropping down to sit with me still in his arms.
I try to move away, but he only holds me tighter, and my cheeks ache from the smile that’s still pulling at my lips.
We spend the rest of the day right there on that couch, talking about classes, how my extracurriculars are going, my roommates, and Jordan.
I cry more, but when I finally leave to eat, after taking twenty minutes to convince Dimitri I can’t go with him to eat at his house, I feel lighter, happier, and like maybe, just maybe, I can survive these next two and a half years after all.
And with my professor's phone number.