Chapter 1 Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice!
WREN - ONE MONTH LATER - AUGUST
“I’m beat,” Gray says, sipping from her martini glass. “Thanks for coming out with me. I’ve been going nonstop lately and needed a night where I wasn’t cooped up in my apartment or thinking about work.”
“I get it,” I say, taking a drink of my water. “Thanks for forcing me to do something other than stay at home with my cat and look for a place to live.”
“Cheers to us for being fun,” Gray chimes, lifting her glass and clinking against my clear plastic cup. “You sure you don’t want something to drink. It’s ladies’ night, so everything is half off.”
“Maybe in a little bit.” I look around The Local, and it’s packed. My stomach turns. Ladies’ Night has never been my favorite because it always feels like the bar is using women as bait for all the men who ultimately show up to try to get us drunk and themselves laid.
“How is the apartment search coming?” she asks.
“It’s not. I’m so stressed about it. I keep thinking I’ll find somewhere else to live, but it’s all too expensive. My current rent is so cheap, it’s no wonder my previous landlord had to sell.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you could live with Tanner. Lacey and Jace move into their new house next weekend, so T will have a spare room.”
“Jace?” I giggle. “Since when do you call Lacey’s boyfriend by his actual name and not his nickname?”
“It sounded so weird, right? Maybe these martinis are already going to my head. I meant Jacks. Lacey and Jacks.” She laughs.
“Much better.”
“So, back to living with Tanner,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see what you were trying to do there. He has a room, and he’s our friend. Seems like an easy option.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip of her drink.
She’s right, but I don’t want to hear it. She and our other friends haven’t left me alone about this idea for weeks, and I hate it.
I need a place to live—not a roommate. And I especially don’t need him to be my roommate.
I like living alone. I like being able to watch what I want on TV or listen to pop music a little too loud while I clean. I like not having to talk to anyone after I’ve depleted my social battery for the day.
I bet he binge watches shows like The Boys and leaves his socks all over the floor.
I cringe at the thought of having to explain that I’m not his girlfriend, just the girl he lives with, over my morning coffee, to one of his random one night stands.
What a nightmare.
I might be desperate for a place to live, but I’m not that desperate. Nope. Not doing it.
“I’m not living with Tanner,” I say, firmly.
“He’s not that bad.”
I roll my eyes. Not that bad?
“We are talking about the same person, right?” I laugh. “Y’all are unbelievable if you think I’ll be going anywhere near Tanner Mitchell’s apartment.”
“Oh, my god,” Gray gasps. “Look who’s at the bar! It’s a sign.”
My eyes jump to where she’s staring. Tanner Mitchell is sitting at the bar, surrounded by no less than five women.
“A sign?”
“Yes, we’re over here talking about you living with him, and there he is.”
“No. I think we must have just said his name one too many times. Like Beetlejuice or something.”
“Oh, but he definitely doesn’t look like Beetlejuice.” She laughs and twirls her olive skewer in her drink. “I know some of his choices are questionable, but you can’t deny he’s hot. Look at that smile.”
I hate that she’s right again. He’s at least a foot taller than me, if not more.
His chest and shoulders are broad. His sharp jawline is covered with blond stubble, and the top half of his blond hair is pulled into a bun on top of his head.
He’s wearing khaki shorts that hit mid-thigh and a navy button up shirt that fits snuggly on his biceps.
I wish he looked like Beetlejuice. If he did, my apartment problem wouldn’t exist because I’d trust myself to live with weird-ass Beetlejuice.
I don’t trust myself to live with a certified Thor look-alike.
No. College Wren’s knees would’ve totally buckled and fell for his bullshit, but not twenty-four-year-old Wren.
No. I know better than to get caught up with a guy like him.
We might be friends with the same people, but I will not be living with him.
“God, would you look at him?” She laughs. “I swear he thrives on being the center of attention.”
“He’s such a flirt. Could you imagine the amount of women who probably go through his apartment on any given week.” I laugh as I watch him flirt with a blonde. “I bet he has one of those lost and found closets full of the clothes from old hookups.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, like the girl comes over and leaves her jacket, so instead of returning it, he puts it in a closet, and if the next girl is cold, he offers it to her.”
“That’s not a real thing,” she argues.
“Oh, it is. My ex had one, and I would bet all my money that Tanner has one too.”
She takes another sip of her cocktail and leans back into the booth, getting comfortable.
“How do you think a guy like that is friends with Logan and Jacks? It’s strange right?” I ask.
“I’m a firm believer that every male friend group is made up of a Ross, a Chandler, and a Joey, and that checks out with them too,” she explains.
“What do you mean?”
“Jacks is a Ross, Logan is a Chandler, and Tanner is a Joey.”
“I think you're right.”
“Never fails. I mean look at him over there. Total Joey behavior,” she says.
We both burst out laughing, and by the time we’re done, I’m sure I have mascara running down my face. I take a few deep breaths, calming my laughter. My eyes betray me, and I find him again. It’s apparent he doesn’t skip leg day, or arm day, or any day for that matter. Damn.
“For someone who acts like he annoys the shit out of you, you sure look at him like you want his tongue on you.”
“Please. There is no way in hell that I’m that man’s type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I look down at my body. “Well for starters, I’m shaped like a teenage boy. No tits and no ass. Every girl he’s currently ogling over there looks like a Victoria’s Secret Angel. Long legs, big boobs, and curves for days.”
“You are a beautiful, kind, wonderful, smart, hilarious, bad ass woman, Wren Dawson. Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. Any man would be lucky to put his tongue on you, and don’t you ever forget it.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I offer her a small smile.
I don’t know what I would do without Gray. No one prepares you for how difficult it can be to make friends as an adult, but she made that so easy.
“Wait, does that mean you do think he’s hot?” she questions.
“No,” I say, panicked.
“Oh, my god—you do! Is that why you don’t want to live with him?” Her whole face lights up.
“No,” I swat at her. “I don’t want to live with him because he’s insufferable, and even if I did think he was attractive, which I’m not saying I do, look at him over there. He is loving the attention, and I’d put money on him going home with that blonde.”
“He is definitely in his element.”
“Definitely.” I roll my eyes.
“We should probably go say hi,” she says.
“No, we should let him have his fun.”
“Come on,” she urges.
“No. It’s girls’ night, and there are no boys allowed at girls’ night.”
“You’re right. No boys. Just us.” She finishes the last sip of her cocktail.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom and then grab a drink. Do you want another martini?”
“Sure, I’ll take one more. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, stay here. That group of girls in the corner has been eyeing our table since we sat down, and if we both leave we’ll lose it.”
TANNER
My brother has yet to respond to the text I sent earlier.
I tried calling my dad, but he sent me to voicemail, so I left the office early.
My roommate, Jacks, was out with his girlfriend, and I didn’t want to be alone.
So, instead of sitting at my apartment stewing about my family, I changed, called for an Uber, and came to my happy place—The Local.
I’m sitting at the bar, drinking a beer, and I’m surrounded by five women all holding a drink I purchased for them.
How predictable. My dad and brother pissed me off, and now I’m sitting here trying to find someone to bring home with me to fill the void I’m feeling after today.
Despite not having done this in a while, it isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Maybe they’re right about me.
I grab for my phone and check it again.
“Oh, come on, put your phone away, and let’s go dance,” the blonde says. She plucks it from my hands and moves it out of reach.
“Yeah, come dance with us,” her friend whines, moving her hand down my arm.
“Can I please have my phone back?” I ask.
“Whatcha gonna give me for it,” the blonde teases, dangling it in front of my face.
I snatch it and put it in my back pocket before she can react.
“Oh, you seem so grumpy. Do we need to cheer you up?” the blonde flirts, running her hands over my thighs.
She leans forward, stepping between my legs, and whispers, “Let’s dance…
or we could find a dark corner.” Her lips brush against my ear, and she catches me off guard.
I stand abruptly. When I got here, I had a plan, but I can’t get on board with my own idea.
I frequent this bar and have taken plenty of women home with me.
This one, and her friend, are obviously into me, but no matter how hard I try, I’m just not into them, and the longer I sit at the bar, the less I want to be here.
A flash of red appears in my periphery to my right, and my mind is immediately somewhere else, or rather with someone else entirely.
Wren Dawson.
The girl who’s been living in my dreams since April, the first time I saw her.
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but everytime I see her, my brain short-circuits.
You’d think at thirty I’d be able to form a coherent sentence around a pretty girl, and I usually can, but everytime she comes around, I sound like a total moron.
I turn my head, and a girl about her height is walking away from me towards the restrooms. Her long red hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and I could swear it’s Wren, but why would she be here?
I’ve never seen her here before without our group of friends.
I’m sure it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me.
I try to push the thoughts of her away and focus back on the blonde, but I can’t.
“Please dance with us,” the blonde whines again.
Time to go.
“Hey, Tony,” I shout. “I’m gonna close out. One more round for the ladies on me.” He acknowledges me with a nod and then moves toward one of the registers.
“You can’t leave,” the blonde pouts.
“It’s been a long day. Enjoy your drinks.” Tony brings me my receipt, and I sign it. “Bye, girls.”
I begin to walk away. The bar is packed, and I have to push through the crowd. I look over my shoulder one more time, hoping that maybe it was Wren, and I’ll see her, but instead, I see the blonde is following me.
Great.
“Wait,” she yells the minute I make it to the front door. She grabs my arm, pulling me towards her.
“You seem like a—” I try, but before I can stop it, she’s up on her toes, and her lips are on mine.
Fuck me and not in a good way.
I stumble backwards, trying to pull away, but she tightens her arms around my neck and falls with me through the door.
“What the hell,” I say, pushing her away as we stumble onto the sidewalk.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget me,” she says, giggling and taking a step toward me.
I put my hand up to stop her. “Look, you seem like a great girl, but I’m not feeling it, and I want to go home alone.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Wren pops into my head again. “Actually, I’ve never meant anything more.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she snaps, just as her friend walks out to meet us.
“What’s going on?” the friend asks.
“Nothing. Let’s go,” she says with a frustrated breath, grabbing her friend’s arm and stomping back into the bar.
I let out a small chuckle and then call for my Uber. It’s definitely time to go home.
WREN
I’m in the world’s longest line for the women’s bathroom when I attempt to redo my ponytail.
I’m almost finished twisting the elastic around my red strands when it snaps, leaving me with one of those weird creases in my hair and no way to fix it.
Shit. I attempt to run my fingers through the crease, but it’s no use.
“Do you have an extra hair tie?” I ask the girl waiting behind me. She sways back and forth, and her eyes are a little glossy.
“Nooooo, sure don’t,” she slurs. I offer her a small smile then get out of the line, groaning. I head back toward where Gray sits. The moment I push my way through a small group of people, I see Tanner stumble out of the bar’s doors attached to a blonde like some sort of sucker fish.
Lovely.
I roll my eyes because I was right—he’s taking the blonde home. Why are men always so predictable?
I continue back to our table, wondering why my friends would ever think living with someone like him would be a good idea. No, one thing is for sure, Tanner Mitchell is the definition of a fuck boy.
Actually, if you look up that word in the dictionary, I’m ninety-nine percent certain his photo would be plastered right there in the margins.
I know his type—very pretty, very arrogant, and very much can’t keep his dick in his shorts. I dated a man like him. Hell, I loved a man like him, and all it brought me was a whole lot of heartbreak.