Chapter 36
HARLOW
I’m halfway through fixing my hair—a.k.a. shoving it into something that looks intentional from a distance—when my phone buzzes.
Wren: You home?
Wren: I have gossip, and I’m not carrying it alone.
I smile before I can stop myself, which is rude because I didn’t ask my face to do that.
Harlow: Come on over!
Wren: On my way!
I toss my phone on my bed and do a quick scan of my dorm room, like I can make it look less like a college student lives here.
The mini fridge hums in the corner, the pile of laundry remains a crime scene, and my desk is a mess of notebooks, pens, and granola bar wrappers that make you feel personally judged by your own space.
I decide Wren can deal because I’ve dealt with her room looking far worse in the past.
There’s a knock a few minutes later, followed by the door swinging open before I even make it over to answer.
Wren stands in my doorway in the brightest pink shorts I’ve ever seen and a white T-shirt. Her sunglasses are perched on top of her head, like she’s a celebrity trying to blend in, which is hilarious, because Wren has never once blended in. Ever.
“Hello, emotional support best friend,” she announces.
I snort. “Hello, human megaphone.”
Wren’s grin spreads. “Rude. But accurate.”
She drops her tote on my bed like she owns the place, then turns and holds her arms out. I stand automatically because my body knows this routine. The hug is tight, warm, and familiar. The kind that says I’m here, you’re here, the world can relax for five seconds.
“You look…lighter,” Wren says into my hair, quiet enough that it doesn’t feel like a spotlight.
My throat tightens because she’s not wrong and also because I don’t know what to do when someone notices the good parts without hunting for the bad ones.
“I feel…better,” I admit.
Wren pulls back and studies my face like she’s taking inventory. Then she nods once like she’s filing it away.
“Good,” she says simply, and the softness in her voice makes my chest ache.
Then she claps her hands once like she’s switching back into her default setting.
“Okay,” she says. “Sit. Because I have news.”
I flop onto my desk chair. Wren takes my bed like it’s her throne.
“First of all,” she says, “I miss London.”
I lift a brow. “You’ve been back for like, a week.”
“Exactly,” she says dramatically. “A week too long.”
I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it. Give me the highlight reel.”
Wren flops back on my comforter, staring at my ceiling like it owes her entertainment.
“London was…a lot, like I told you the other day,” she says. “In the best way. In the worst way. There were scones. There were men who said ‘cheers’ like it was foreplay. There was a woman in my office who told me I was ‘aggressively American,’ but I just took it as a compliment.”
“That is a compliment,” I mutter.
Wren points at me. “Right? Thank you.”
She sits up again, eyes bright. “Also, I got lost on the Tube so many times that at one point I started pretending it was intentional. Like, yes, I meant to end up in a neighborhood with eight bookstores and a pub called The Drunken Duck.”
“That sounds like my dream,” I say.
“It was,” Wren agrees. “And I bought you something, but I already gave it to you, so don’t look at me like that.”
I smile because the little ice skate charm is already hooked to my tote.
“Anyway. Weston Cooper.”
I blink. “What about Weston?”
“That man,” she says, “is a walking golden retriever with a credit card and no fear.”
I laugh. “Accurate.”
“I ran into him on campus yesterday,” she continues. “And he looked at me like I was a prophecy. Like he’s been waiting his whole life for me specifically.”
I cover my face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Wren says, delighted. “He offered me coffee like I was a stray animal, before he even asked for my name, mind you.”
I can’t help but laugh, because I can picture the image so clearly in my mind. Poor Weston stands no chance with Wren, and he has no idea.
Wren’s expression shifts, just slightly, her head tilting to the side and analyzing my reaction.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “New topic. Let's talk about why you’re smiling like you’ve been personally blessed by a romance novel.”
My face warms. “Wren.”
She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “Harlow.”
I glare. “Stop.”
“I literally can’t,” she says. “It’s a personality trait.”
I exhale through my nose. “Fine. It’s Grayson.”
Wren’s eyes go wide, delighted. “Of course it is. So, the date went well?”
“Yes,” I say, already annoyed with my own cheeks for heating up. “You could say that.”
Wren presses a hand to her chest. “Oh my god. This is everything.”
“It’s not everything,” I say, defensive on reflex.
Wren’s grin softens. “Okay. Then it’s…something.”
I swallow.
“It’s something,” I admit.
Wren nods like she’s satisfied with that. Then her eyes narrow with sudden focus.
I swallow.
Wren leans back, voice gentler now. “So. How’s it been?”
There are a lot of possible answers.
I pick the honest one that doesn’t make me feel like I’m handing my ribs over.
“Better than I expected,” I say quietly.
Wren nods. “Because of Grayson?”
I hesitate.
“Partly,” I admit. “He’s…steady.”
Wren’s eyes soften in a way that makes my chest ache again. “You deserve steady.”
I look down at my hands, because if I hold her gaze too long, I might get emotional, and I refuse to cry in my dorm room like it’s a tradition.
Wren clears her throat, switching back to lighter again, like she’s tossing me a rope.
“Okay,” she says. “Serious question.”
I brace. “Oh no.”
“Are you wearing Grayson’s jersey to the game on Tuesday?” she asks, dead serious.
Heat crawls up my neck. “Wren.”
“That’s a yes,” she decides.
“It’s not a yes,” I lie.
Wren points at me. “It’s absolutely a yes.”
I groan. “I might.”
Wren’s smile turns feral. “Iconic.”
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts, but I can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at my mouth because…I’ve thought about it too. Not because I want to be a spectacle. Because I want to choose something that’s mine. Wren watches the shift like she notices everything, even when she pretends she doesn’t.
She says softly, “I love this for you.”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
Wren holds up her hands. “Not a thing. Just…cute.”
A beat passes, quieter now.
Then Wren exhales slowly. “Also, I’m trying to figure out where I’m living.”
I blink. “Right. Tell me.”
Wren makes a face. “I can’t decide between living close to campus or moving back home with my mom.”
“Your mom’s place is like…thirty minutes away,” I say.
“I know,” she groans. “Which is annoying. But she’d like having me there. She’s still struggling.”
Then I take a breath, because there’s a question sitting on my tongue that I’ve been carrying since the day I found out she was coming back for good.
I look at her. “Can I ask you something?”
Wren’s brows lift. “That sounds like trouble.”
“It might be,” I admit.
Wren sits up straighter. “Okay.”
I swallow. “Where are you at with Kai?”
Silence. Wren doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pretend she doesn’t know why I’m asking. She just exhales, long and slow.
“I don’t know,” she says finally.
“Wren—”
“No, I really don’t,” she says, holding up a hand. “I’ve avoided him for years because I didn’t know what I would do if I looked at him too long.”
I swallow hard.
Wren’s mouth twists. “I’ve been on a couple dates since the breakup. Nothing serious. Just…proving that I can, you know?”
“And?” I ask softly.
“And I don’t have intentions,” she admits, voice quieter.
“Not the kind you can package up and hand to someone like a plan. I’m not here to mess with him.
I’m not here to…reclaim something. I’m here because my life pulled me back.
” She meets my gaze. “If Kai becomes part of that, I don’t know what it means yet. ”
My throat tightens because that’s the most honest answer she could’ve given. I nod once. “Okay.”
Wren’s shoulders drop, relief flickering. “Okay.”
Then she points at me like she can’t help herself. “Now, it’s your turn again.”
I blink. “My turn for what?”
“You and Grayson,” she says. “Are you inviting him for Thanksgiving, or are we pretending you don’t have feelings?”
My face heats instantly. “Wren.”
She grins. “I’m just saying. That holiday is a lot, and he seems like the kind of guy who would make it…less.”
My chest tightens because she’s right, and I hate that she’s right.
“I’ve thought about it,” I admit quietly.
Wren’s grin softens. “Then do it.”
I stare at her. And for the first time in a while, the idea of wanting something doesn’t feel like a threat. It just feels like…a possibility.
Wren stands, grabbing her tote. “Okay. I have to go. I’m meeting the manager at Rico’s, which by the way, tacos are top-notch, and hopefully getting a job.”
I snort. “Text me later.”
“Oh, I will,” she says. Then pauses at my door, turning back with a softer look. “I’m glad you’re letting yourself have good things again.”
My throat tightens.
“Me too,” I whisper.
Wren smiles, small and real. “See you later, girl.”
“See you,” I say.
After she leaves, my room is quiet again, but not for long.
I’m reading a book on my bed when there is another knock on my door. I smile instantly, already knowing who is on the other side.
Opening the door, I find him standing there in sweats and a hoodie, his dimple on full display and waiting for me.
“Hi, Gray.”
“Hi, gorgeous.” He walks inside my dorm, placing a quick kiss on my temple as he passes by. He sets his backpack on the floor and plops down onto my bed.
I join him, sitting at the other end and crisscrossing my legs. “I have a question for you.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “What?”
“Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”
Grayson shrugs. “No. I had honestly just planned on staying on campus. I don’t really talk to my parents outside of a random text here and there from my mom. Sometimes one of the guys invites me to tag along, but I haven’t made any plans this year.”
“Would you want to come with me? Our parents only live about two hours from here. Kai and I plan on leaving after your guys’ skate on Wednesday morning.”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between mine, searching for something. “Do you want me there?”
Rolling my eyes, I move closer to him on the bed until I’m straddling his lap. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.”
My answer earns me a smile. A real one that you can see even in his eyes. “Then I’m there.”
I smile to myself before leaning down and kissing him. Tuesday’s game is coming. Tyler’s team. All the noise. All the history. But tucked inside all of that is something new.
A choice.
And for the first time, I don’t want to run from it.