24. Wren #2
The look he gives me cuts me off. I don’t have a sufficient argument because he’s right.
My fridge is full of rabbit food that my mother keeps getting delivered to the apartment and believes is all I should need to sustain myself.
For the record, it’s not. I’m constantly starving, using my earnings from the bar to buy edible food when I can because I know she’s tracking my bank cards like the overbearing psycho that she is.
He pulls the notebook back toward himself before he starts writing again. Underlining it to make his point. It’s not up for discussion.
You’re coming to ours.
“Fine,” I huff with a roll of my eyes, like having my arm twisted into going to their house for dinner is the end of the world or something. The truth is, it’s been nice the past few days to have their company. To have a reason not to be alone in my apartment. Or on campus. Or at the rink.
I hadn’t fully realized it, but God, I’m sick of constantly being on my own. Having Dylan spend the weekend with me only emphasized how alone I’ve felt here, and the reprieve has been blissful.
Silas’s almost-smile appears again before he signals for us to pack up.
Stepping outside, the night air is crisp.
The sting to my cheeks is sharp enough to wake me all the way up as I burrow deeper into my coat.
Before I can descend the library steps, Silas reaches for my backpack.
I go to protest, but he cuts me off with a sharp look as he removes the bag from my shoulder, slinging it over his own like it belongs there.
Then, without hesitation, he takes my hand.
His fingers thread with mine, as if holding hands is the most natural thing in the world for us to do, instantly warming my chilled skin.
I stare down at where we’re both connected, this feeling of rightness, of belonging, of warmth that I can’t quite describe, filling up my chest, before he tugs gently on my arm, and we begin walking.
We walk like that, unhurried, a couple out for an evening stroll through campus.
His stride effortlessly matches mine, and his thumb absently brushes against my knuckle in a way that is meant to comfort.
Like he knows my brain is in overdrive right now.
It’s possessive without being demanding; protective without being suffocating.
I realize, as we walk, that all three of them have been doing this in their own ways. Claiming space beside me. Around me. And I haven’t stopped them.
Thanks to Dylan, I’m familiar with a harem lifestyle, and based on the dream I had last night, I think I’m okay with having that for myself.
Assuming that’s what the guys want too.
Hockey players are team players, after all, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re down to share off the ice.
I chew on my bottom lip as we make our way through campus in the direction of the guys’ house.
“Silas,” I begin softly, his name barely louder than the crunch of leaves beneath our feet.
He turns, giving me his full attention.
“I found your note… After the game. The one you left in my glasses case.”
His steps slow. He’s watching my face carefully now. Searching. Gauging.
I swallow. “What did you mean?” My voice catches, and I stop walking. He does too, turning to face me. “When you said ‘you’re ours now’?”
The night seems to hold its breath as Silas searches my eyes before reaching for his notebook and pen. The fact that he can’t immediately respond, that I can see him writing but can’t read the words, drags out the tension until it’s as taut as a wire.
When he finally holds the notebook out toward me, I’m lightheaded from too many shallow breaths.
I meant exactly what I said. You’re ours.
Before I can fully process his words, he steps closer. His hand slides across the side of my neck, fingers brushing my jaw with aching gentleness as I lift my gaze to his. I get a mere second to notice the tiny scar on his forehead, just above his brow, before he leans in.
My pulse thunders. My breath tangles in my throat.
Everything around us goes quiet, the world dropping away until all that’s left is him and me and this moment.
Right before his mouth can meet mine, he stops.
He waits, the warmth of his breath ghosting my lips in a tantalizing tease.
I’m swallowed whole by the look in his eyes.
Endless patience, quiet intensity, and something that looks dangerously close to devotion.
Darker threads of blue swirl with desire.
With need. Heat and passion and everything I feel raging inside myself.
My head dips in the barest nod of consent.
And then he kisses me.
Soft and slow and devastating.
Something splinters open inside me, raw and electric. For the first time in years, I feel it. Desire. Unfiltered and alive. Emitting a groan, I slide my hands into his hoodie and grip the fabric like I need him to keep me tethered.
His hand finds my waist, then the small of my back, fingers pressing, pulling me in until there’s no space left between us. I gasp against his mouth, and he takes that sound, deepening the kiss with a slow roll of his tongue that makes me burn.
This isn’t some gentle kiss anymore.
It’s a promise.
A spark. A flare. A quiet boy with a fire in his soul, setting me alight from the inside out.
With the knowledge that I’m not broken, that I’m wanted and safe, I happily go up in flames.
I kiss him back like I’ve never wanted anything more. Like I’ve been waiting for this exact feeling and never knew it until now.
When we finally part, my lips tingle, kiss-bruised and hot. My chest rises and falls like I’ve just surfaced from underwater, lungs full for the first time.
Silas rests his forehead against mine again, breathing wrecked, and I see it there in his eyes. This time, I don’t need words to decipher what he’s saying.
His gaze says it all.
Ours.