Chapter 7 Wren
WREN
Iwalked back into the living room with my hot matcha in my favorite mug.
It was a black mug with white writing that read “full of anxie-tea”.
Lena bought it a few years back for me as a joke, but I love it.
I clutched the mug like a lifeline, wrapping both hands around it, willing it to absorb the shaking in my fingers.
Cam barely looked up. He was deep into whatever game they were playing. There was something comforting about how oblivious he was.
Reed, though… He looked.
Just a flick of his eyes when I stepped in. No smile this time. Just holding his gaze for a second had me feeling like heat was rolling over my skin and settling low in my stomach. I tried not to breathe too deeply, not to let it show that his glance alone did that to me.
I dropped into the armchair across from the couch and curled my legs under me.
I set my mug down, picked up my sketchbook, and opened it to a clean page.
I couldn’t even pay attention to what my fingers were doing.
My whole body was tuned to him. I grabbed a pencil and began sketching a field of my favorite flowers, cosmos.
I cannot remember the last time I picked up a graphite pencil to sketch, but this felt effortless.
Reed leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, water bottle hanging from one hand. He acted as if he wasn’t watching me, but I knew he was.
Every so often, I’d catch him glancing at me. Not long enough for Cam to notice, which was shocking because neither of us was being subtle. Just these brief, exacting checks, like he needed to look just to be sure I was still here. Every time our eyes met, it pulled something tight in my chest.
I told myself to breathe, to focus on the sketchbook, or anything except the way Reed’s voice dropped just a little when he spoke around Cam.
Or how he shifted slightly in his seat, angling toward me instead of away.
Or how, when Cam got up to grab something out of the kitchen, Reed’s eyes met mine instantly like the space between us snapped taut without a third person in the room.
I took the first sip of my tea and hoped Reed couldn’t see how hard I was trying not to look back. But God, he was making it hard.
His knee bounced. His hand flexed around the water bottle, causing it to make a distracting crinkling noise. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek like he was chewing back every word he couldn’t say.
“You’re doing art again? It has been years since I’ve seen you touch a sketchbook. When did you start again?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
I looked up, absolutely floored. I can’t believe he even noticed. I didn’t answer. Just took another sip of my lukewarm tea and readjusted my legs, so now my feet were touching the floor. I was worried that if I said anything now, my voice might betray me.
He leaned back slightly, stretching one arm across the back of the couch. I am pretty sure he knew I wasn’t going to answer the question before he asked it. Cam’s footsteps echoed across the hall, and Reed dropped his arm a second before he walked back in.
The tension snapped, but it didn’t disappear.
“Reed, can you grab me a beer from the garage?” Cam said, popping a chip into his mouth returning to his video game.
“Dude, you were just up.” Reed rolled his eyes and stood. He looked directly at me with a smirk on his face as he made his way down the short hallway to the foyer and into the garage.
I stared at the sketchbook like it was the most important thing in the room, but I could feel my cheeks heat up from his attention.
Everything was too much. And the worst part?
There was nothing to justify the feeling.
This time, there was no kiss, no touch, and no healing words.
It was all just stolen glances. Even in those small glances, I swear, the way he looked at me when all I craved was his hands on my skin, his mouth on my neck, and the weight of him finally giving in was the riskiest part of all.