Chapter 19 Lip Balm and Life Lessons （Wren）
LIP BALM AND LIFE LESSONS (WREN)
Iwake to winter light slicing across unfamiliar windows and the steady awareness that my life has tilted. Last night returns in ordered flashes: the couch, his hand threading through my hair, the press of his mouth on mine.
My first kiss.
Heat climbs my throat. I touch my lips. They feel tender, as if they kept a memory when sleep tried to steal it.
My phone reads 8:47. Laughter drifts up from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of plates and the low hiss of a pan. The house sounds ordinary.
I pull a sweatshirt over my tank, re-tie the drawstring on my joggers, and give up on the tangle of hair in the mirror.
Coffee and bacon greet me at the bottom step.
Eden stands at the stove, stirring a pan; Erin is setting plates.
Kieran leans against the counter in sweats and a fitted long-sleeve shirt that looks devastating on him, mug balanced in one hand.
My skin blooms with heat and my breath sticks in my throat.
His eyes lift and stay on me.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Erin calls without turning. “Coffee?”
“Please.” My voice sounds calm. My body is anything but.
I step to the counter. Kieran gives me space measured in inches, not feet. Our shoulders brush; current ripples under my skin.
“Sleep okay?” he asks, pitched low, steel blue and steady in my head.
“Yes.” I reach for a mug. “You?”
“Not really.” A slow, crooked smile. “Couldn’t stop thinking.”
About the kiss. He means the kiss.
My face warms. I focus on the coffee. His palm settles at my lower back, casual and certain, and heat unspools through my abdomen. This isn’t campus theater or leverage with Theo. This is a claim made in front of his siblings and friends.
“Eggs are ready,” Nate says, scraping the skillet. “No pancakes. We promised Coach we’d be good. Sweet potatoes for everybody.”
Jessica groans. “Just close your eyes and pretend it’s a waffle.”
I carry plates to the table. He follows, close enough that I feel the temperature of his skin through cotton. When I reach for silverware, his hand covers mine, a light, deliberate touch before he lets go.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He only says, “No reason,” but his focus tracks me, darker than I’ve seen, a deep cerulean rather than the bright ice blue that hijacks BU’s social feeds. I glance away to make the room stop buzzing.
We sit. I end up between Kieran and Sophie. Under the table his knee rests against mine. When I shift, he follows, maintaining contact with quiet precision.
Heat gathers low in my belly. Every point of contact magnifies—the brush of his thumb at my wrist when he passes water, the brief weight of his hand on my shoulder when he reaches for salt. My body reads these touches as instructions.
“So,” Jessica says, cheerful and sharp-eyed, “everyone sleep well?”
Smiles move around the table. I concentrate on eggs.
“Not too bad,” Kieran says. “Couch was comfortable.”
“I bet it was,” Dmitri rumbles, unhelpful and amused.
“Stop that,” Sophie grinds out, nudging him.
“We’re just being friendly,” Erin replies, eyes bright with mischief.
Kieran’s hand slides to my thigh beneath the table. My breath snags. He keeps eating, unbothered, while my lungs try to remember how air works.
Is something wrong with me? Why does my skin feel two sizes too small? Do people forget how to breathe from…this? Is that a thing? Should I ask someone to call an ambulance?
Except I don’t feel faint.
I feel…
God.
Awareness spreads in a slow wave that scrambles my thoughts. A slick, insistent ache that absolutely does not belong at a breakfast table.
“We’re thinking of doing a hike before we head out,” Liam announces. “There’s a trail that loops to a viewpoint. Takes about two hours.”
“I’m in,” Finn says.
“Me too,” Sophie adds, then looks at me and Kieran. “You guys up for it?”
“Sure.” My voice sounds almost normal.
Under the table, Kieran’s thumb traces a small circle on my thigh. Barely there. Everywhere.
“Great,” Liam says. “Let’s leave in an hour.”
Twenty minutes later, Sophie appears at my elbow. “Can I steal you for a sec?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, just guides me upstairs to my room. The door clicks shut.
“Okay,” she says, turning to face me with a smile. “Spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Wren.” Her eyes are kind but knowing. “Something happened. You and Kieran are completely different this morning. He can’t stop touching you.”
Heat floods my face. “We just—”
“Did he kiss you?”
The question hangs there. I could lie.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Sophie’s squeal is immediate and delighted. She grabs my hands. “Oh my God. Finally.” She squeezes my hands. “I thought he might vibrate out of his skin.”
“It was just— We were talking, and then—” I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t find words for how it felt.
“Was it good?”
“I don’t have anything to compare it to.” The admission comes out small.
Sophie stills. “Your first kiss?”
I nod, cheeks burning.
“Girl.” She squeezes my hands. “That’s—that’s special. Really special. And with someone who clearly adores you.”
“I don’t know if he—”
“Trust me. He does.” She grins. “Which is why we need to help you feel amazing today.”
“What do you mean?”
She’s already texting. “Give me two seconds.”
Within minutes, Eden, Jessica, and Erin pile into my room, holding necessaires and a hair wand.
“Emergency glam session?” Jessica asks, eyebrows wiggling.
“More like a confidence boost,” Sophie says. “Our girl had her first kiss last night and deserves to feel gorgeous.”
“Oh my GOD,” Erin squeals. “My brother made a move?”
I nod, mortified and pleased at once.
Jessica parks me in front of the mirror. The girls unload a small Sephora on the table—tubes and bottles everywhere.
“Game plan,” Jessica says. “Natural makeup, like you woke up fabulous and lied about it.”
“I don’t really do makeup,” I warn.
“Which is why we’re here,” Sophie says. “Foolproof. And we’re leaving you the products so you can repeat it.”
“I can’t take your—”
“They’re gifts,” Erin says, decisive. “Say thank you, girlie. Also, he won’t know what hit him.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Jessica dots on a sheer base. “Tinted moisturizer, breath of concealer. See? Barely there.” She taps under my eyes. “You slept three hours; no one needs to know.”
Sophie adds cream blush high on my cheeks. “This is ‘someone just kissed me behind a pine tree’ placement.”
“Stop,” I mutter, flaming.
“Never,” Erin laughs. “And I expect a field report.”
Giggles burst—pink and sparkly.
It’s quick and efficient: mascara that lifts without clumps, tinted balm that looks like my lips on their best behavior, a swipe of highlighter on the cheekbones. Clean. Easy. Me, but upgraded.
“Now hair,” Jessica announces. “What do you normally do?”
“Ponytail. Braid. Nothing.”
“We’re teaching you waves and a low bun. Both easy, both gorgeous.”
Sophie plugs in the curling iron while Jessica parts my hair. “For waves, you just wrap sections around the barrel—not too perfect, kind of messy. Like this.”
She demonstrates, her hands quick and sure. When my mother used to get ready for concerts, I’d watch her do this—the ritual of transformation, making art of the everyday. Violet music would fill the room, her fingers moving through her hair like conducting.
I blink away the sudden sting behind my eyes.
Sophie catches it. Her hand settles gently on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“My mom used to do her hair before concerts. I’d watch her get ready.” The words come out quiet. “She had this whole routine. I never— After she died, my aunt wasn’t really—”
“Hey.” Sophie’s reflection meets mine in the mirror. “This is exactly what moms and aunts and big sisters are for. Teaching you the little things that make you feel good.”
Eden squeezes my other shoulder. “You’re not alone, okay? We’ve got you.”
The ache in my chest softens.
They teach me both styles—loose waves for casual, a low messy bun for dressier. They make me practice the bun twice until I can do it myself.
“Here.” Jessica produces a sage-green top from her bag. “This color is perfect on you.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Erin says. “Every girl needs a date-night top.”
“We’re not—”
“Just in case,” Sophie says, eyes twinkling. “You never know what might happen.”
They pile the makeup products into a small bag—everything they used, plus extras. The top gets folded carefully.
“Thank you,” I manage. “Really. This—” My throat tightens. “This means a lot.”
“We love you already,” Eden says simply. “You’re good for him. And he’s clearly gone for you.”
“I don’t know if—”
“We do,” Jessica says. “Trust us. That man is wrecked.”
Jessica zips the makeup bag closed. “Okay, operation glow-up complete.”
“Almost complete,” Erin says, exchanging a look with Sophie that I immediately mistrust. “There’s one more thing we need to cover.”
“Oh no,” I say. “What thing?”
Sophie tilts her head. “You said last night was your first kiss, right?”
I nod, heat climbing my throat. “Right.”
Erin crosses her arms. “Then we’re assuming you’ve never, you know…gone further.”
My jaw drops. “Oh God. Are we doing the sex talk?”
“What?” she says, unfazed. “Someone has to do it.”
Jessica grins. “Consider this the Defenders’ Girlfriend Survival Seminar.”
Sophie sits beside me, voice gentle. “We’re not trying to embarrass you, Wren. We just want you to know that if things ever go further—with Kieran or anyone—you get to decide what happens and when.”
Eden nods. “If you don’t like something, say so. You don’t owe anyone silence.”
“And if you do like something,” Jessica adds, “say that too. Guys are not mind readers. They’re basically golden retrievers with protein powder.”
Laughter ripples around the room.
Sophie smiles. “You can stop or change your mind anytime. Even mid-kiss, mid-anything. If he’s the right guy, he’ll listen.”
“Protection,” Erin says firmly. “Every time. No exceptions.”
“If he can remember line changes and away game schedules,” Jessica says, “he can remember condoms.”
“Good ones,” Sophie adds. “Not the emergency-drawer mystery pack Jessica and Finn used.”
Jessica groans. “One time.”
“One time was plenty,” Erin says dryly. “Twins.” She holds a straight face, then breaks when Jessica swats her.
Eden’s tone softens. “Just remember, it’s about you. You’re allowed to want things. You’re allowed to change your mind. That’s not mixed signals. That’s being safe.”
The knot inside me loosens. “Okay,” I say quietly. “Got it.”
Erin squeezes my hand. “Good. Because Kieran might be my brother, but he’s still a guy. Even good ones need reminders. And if he ever crosses a line, you call me.”
“She means that,” Jessica says cheerfully.
“I really do,” Erin adds.
Laughter breaks the moment.
“You guys are terrifying,” I say.
“Thank you,” Sophie replies sweetly.
Eden lifts the makeup bag. “Now take your glam kit and your sage top and go have a good time. He’s probably pacing already.”
I hug them all, overwhelmed by warmth and fierce, ridiculous love.
“Go easy on him,” Jessica calls as I reach the door.
“Or don’t,” Erin adds. “Your call.”