Chapter Twenty-One – Wren
I probably should be freaking out more.
That’s the thought that lingers in my head the next few days.
I mean, Reese is into some weird things, sure, but cameras?
Mazes that people might not make it out of?
That’s kidnapping and murder, isn’t it? Even if he doesn’t do the, uh, final blow himself, he’s the reason they’re gone. Murder-adjacent.
That’s messed up. That’s so messed up. I’m not so blinded by infatuation that I don’t see it, but at the same time, I can’t imagine strolling into the police station and talking to the cops about Reese and his activities.
I’d lose him, and I don’t think I could stomach that. It might not make sense, most normal people might think I’m crazy, but I can’t lose him.
Accepting Reese, craving Reese, means I have to accept every single part of him, even if it’s hard. His wants, his desires, the not-so-legal activities he gets up to when he’s alone. All of it.
Never, not once in my life, did I ever think I’d be where I am today. Not only am I torn between two guys, but I’m also caught up in a mess with each of them. Reese and his mazes and cameras, and Logan and his ex-rockstars crap. What has my life turned into lately? A freaking soap opera.
I do feel better after talking to Reese about it.
Finding out he’s open to me exploring things with Logan definitely does lessen the anxiety in me, but a part of me still doesn’t know what to do.
If I go to this mic night, things could go one of two ways: either something would happen and we’d be drawn together by that same invisible force that kept pushing us together last semester, or we’d blow up past the point of no return.
Am I ready for something like that? Am I ready to fully cut the cord with Logan, or accept the fact that fate still wants us together? I don’t know. I’m not experienced in this sort of thing. This is all so new to me.
And I can’t really talk about it with Sloane. She knows the whole Logan bit, but she doesn’t know anything about Reese, other than the fact that he’s a sexy professor who was my saving grace last semester. I can’t tell her about the cameras. She’d probably freak out, and for good reason.
Ugh, what a mess.
I don’t know if I’m going to that mic night. I don’t know if I can take it. My heart has already taken a beating; it’s starting to feel better thanks to Reese, but Logan has a way of getting inside me and shattering me from the inside-out. It’s his superpower.
I just don’t know.
As the days go by and time moves ever forward, closer and closer to the mic night, I get more and more in my head. I start to lose sleep. I actually miss a few questions on a quiz in my sociology of aging class—and stuff like that never happens to me.
See? Mic night hasn’t even come around and Logan’s already in my head, messing things up for me.
I’m so caught up in whether I should go or not that I become clumsier, too. As in, between classes, I don’t really watch where I’m going. I bump into more people than ever before. It’s awkward and embarrassing.
I wish I could see into the future and know which decision is the right one.
Suddenly it’s the Friday of the mic night, and I still haven’t made up my mind. When I spent some time with Reese last weekend, he asked me what I was planning on doing, and I told him the truth: I still didn’t know.
God, I need a sign or something.
That afternoon, I go to grab a late lunch after all of my classes.
The student union isn’t so busy at this weird time of day, so I have my pick of the food places inside it.
Can never go wrong with a footlong sub sandwich, full of turkey and yummy banana peppers.
I stuff it into my bag after I pay, sling the strap over my shoulder, and walk out of the area where the eateries are.
With a measured pace, I walk through the rows and rows of mostly empty tables to reach the nearest exit to the outside world. Today is unseasonably warm, so I only wear a hoodie instead of an actual winter jacket. All the snow from the past few weeks melted, leaving behind a wet, muddy mess.
That’s what sucks about winter. When the weather plays games, everything gets gross.
I push outside, take a few steps, and then stop momentarily as the weight of tonight’s decision descends upon my shoulders.
I need more time to decide. If only I could press pause on life.
These are the moments where I hate being such an overthinker.
There’s absolutely nothing fun about getting lost in your own head while the world continues to revolve around you, while everyone is totally unaware of your inner turmoil.
I really do need a freaking sign.
With a sigh, I turn and start to walk, my goal to head home, but right when I do, I bump into a girl’s shoulder—hard. So hard we both have to stagger back and correct ourselves, and we both instantly apologize.
The word “Sorry” is barely out of my mouth when I see who it is I bumped into. Someone I blocked a long time ago on every platform I could. Someone I haven’t really seen since the day I went to Mike’s place and found her car in the driveway and her legs wrapped around his waist.
Meghan. The girl who used to be my best friend.
She realizes who I am the same moment it dawns in me, and for the next few seconds, we stand there, neither of us able to do or say anything else.
Meghan always stood a few inches taller than me, but with the boots she wears, she’s even taller than that.
Her blond hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few stray wisps coming out to frame her face.
She wears a coat that goes down to her knees; she was always a freeze baby, as she put it, someone who absolutely hated the cold and bundled up even if the weather didn’t demand it.
Like today. I’m perfectly fine in a hoodie and regular shoes, and she looks like she’s going to Antarctica.
I don’t know who’s more shocked, her or me. My heart pounds faster in my chest. I saw Mike in passing before, but never Meghan. This is new, and I don’t like it. I don’t know what to do or if I should say anything.
“Wren,” she says my name quietly, almost like she’s afraid to speak it out loud. “Hi.”
All I do is nod. My throat is dry and my tongue feels like it won’t work, so I don’t even try.
“I heard about the accident,” she goes on. “How are you doing?”
Swallowing hard, it takes me a moment to muster up the courage to say, “Fine. How are you?” I don’t really want to get into any details about my life.
Whatever friendship we had before is long gone now.
I don’t even know how she heard about the accident; I guess the grape vine still is a thing, even when you don’t see the other person ever.
Standing there, a foot away from her, we are nothing but strangers.
“Okay,” she says as she adjusts the strap of her bag. “I, uh, have to go.” She takes a step back.
“Me, too.” The last thing I want to do is stand there and act like I’m okay with talking to her.
If I never saw her face again, I’d be fine.
Dare I say, I’d even be happy. I match her step with my own; I plan on going whichever way she doesn’t, even if it means I’ll have to take a somewhat longer path back to the house.
Anything to get out of this encounter faster.
I turn around to leave, but Meghan calls out after a second, “Wait.” I stop, even though I shouldn’t, and I toss a glance back at her over my shoulder. A cool breeze blows between us, ruffling my hair and reminding me that it is indeed still winter, even if it is warmer today.
“I’m sorry.” Just two words, spoken so quietly I hardly hear them, but I do. I hear them, and I see the slight frown on her face as she says it—and I know she doesn’t mean she’s sorry for bumping into me. That’s not what this particular apology is for.
I hear what she doesn’t say, what exactly she’s sorry for. The only thing I can do is nod before I turn away and hurriedly walk off. I don’t look back, just like I don’t tell her it’s fine.
It’s not fine. What she did, what my ex did…
it can never be fine. There are some things you don’t come back from, and cheating behind my back for more than two years is one of them.
I’m not a person to hold a grudge, but Meghan simply isn’t someone I want to see or deal with ever again.
I lost two people that day, my boyfriend and my best friend.
Mike tried reaching out, tried calling and texting, but I ignored him and blocked his number.
Meghan? She never reached out once. She was probably too embarrassed or ashamed, or maybe even guilty. I can’t pretend to know what went on inside her head in the moment, and I don’t care. I don’t need her in my life. My life might be a mess currently, but it’s my mess.
I make it home after a roundabout path, and I find Sloane sitting with Elias in the living room. She gets up and trails after me up the stairs, following me into my bedroom and watching as I unpack my sub and set it on my bed.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “Make a decision about tonight?”
I drop my bag to the floor before I turn to her. “I ran into Meghan, the friend who was going behind my back with my ex.” My gaze drops to the floor. “It was weird. She said she was sorry, and I kind of believe she is, but it doesn’t matter now. There’s no going back.”
“Good for you,” Sloane says with a single nod. “If I was there, I would’ve thrown hands.”
Her remark makes me chuckle and roll my eyes.
“But,” she goes on, “I notice you didn’t answer the question about the mic night. You’re running out of time to decide if you’re going to go.”
I sit on the edge of my bed. “I know.” It’s a moment before I whisper, “I wanted a sign. I think I got one when I ran into Meghan.” It’s not the sign I would’ve chosen for myself, but what are the odds, after all this time, I’d run into her today, of all days?
Sloane cocks her head at me. “And what does that mean? Did running into her make you want to go, or did it make you not want to see Logan again, either?” Her feelings on Logan are clear; she doesn’t like him or think he’s good for me.
I can’t help but wonder if she’d think Reese is good for me, if she knew everything he got up to.
Maybe not, but then again, she is a little weird. Maybe she’d get into the whole cameras and mazes thing.
The only thing I can say is, “I think I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” I don’t want Sloane to try to convince me either way; it’s a decision I have to make on my own.
Logan and everything he encompasses… not too long ago I would have written him off completely. Things are more complicated now. I’m more complicated. I don’t know if people can change, but if they can, maybe they deserve another chance.
Maybe.