Page 7 of Falling

She raises an eyebrow, accepting the challenge as she settles down next to me. “Let me?” she echoes, her voice full of shock. “Miles, you’re out in the first round. You didn’t even comesecond place.” I roll my eyes, and she pats my chest before standing back up. “I’ll show you how it’s done, don’t worry.”

And she fucking does.

The dance is ridiculous and over-the-top, but she looks good doing it. Scarlett and Kennedy aren’t that bad either, but it’s Wren who steals the show and has the whole crowd cheering along with her. When she’s up against Harry, I almost forget which team I’m on. I find myself stealing glances at Wren when she's not looking, marveling at the way her eyes light up with each dance move and the way her laughter fills the room.

She catches me staring; something switches in her expression, and she stumbles a little. Her gaze snags on mine, and I tilt my head to the side, but she recovers quickly, shaking her head to try to get back in the game. Harry uses the opportunity to dance his little heart out, doing the best he can to catch up with her. After her misstep, she falls behind, and Harry takes the lead.

Grayson and I jump up in unison, cheering on our friend while Wren and the girls sulk at the side of us. Wren walks toward me, cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and her blonde hair that was slicked into a tight ponytail now flows loose on her shoulders. Kennedy points at Harry and starts accusing him of cheating even though we all watched the game and he won fair and square. Scarlett tries to back her up, and Wren just studies me.

“Now what?” She bites out the words like they’ve personally offended her.

“Now, you give me your number and I’ll pick you up on Friday at 5.”

Her eyes widen for what must be the tenth time tonight. “Are you being serious?”

“As the plague.” I hold up my fingers in the Scout’s Honor, my other hand on my chest. I pull out my phone, handing it to her, and she blinks at it before taking it up.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mutters, typing her digits in.

“You better believe it, Wrenny. I’m going to rock your world,” I say, the nickname fitting her perfectly. She looks like sunshine, all cute and pretty, but her attitude is more like a storm.

She swats me on the arm. “Please don’t call me that.”

I nod at Gray and Harry to come with me so we can get going. “Friday at five, princess.”

“Did you just call me princess?” She runs a frustrated hand through the ends of her hair, shaking her head like she can’t believe this is happening. “You don’t even know where I live.”

I turn on my heels, and she lets out a frustrated breath-growl thing that has me laughing to myself as I walk toward the door. She shouts after me, and all I call back is, “Friday at five, Wrenny girl. I’ll see you.”

I walk out of the house, feeling a lot better than I did when I walked in here. For one of the first times in months, I know I’m going to be able to sleep without a drink in my hand and the memories of March might start to float away.

4

WREN

POLE LEGEND IN TRAINING

The week fliesby in a blur of early mornings and late nights, the usual chatter with the girls reduced to nothing more than half-asleep grumbles. So tonight, reuniting on the couch feels like a celebration. I've just tucked my phone away after ordering our favorite greasy indulgence from Nero's whenMatildabegins to light up the flatscreen.

“Wait!” Kennedy's voice cuts through the opening credits, pausing the movie. She swivels from her spot on the floor, directly below where Scarlett and I lounge on the couch. In a swift motion, she gathers her curls into a makeshift bun, then pins us both with a look that manages to be both stern and teasing. “Before we start,” she begins, pointing dramatically at each of us, “we need to set some ground rules for movie night. No phones, no distractions, just us and Matilda. Agreed?”

Her playful seriousness draws a laugh from both Scarlett and me, but we agree. I reach for the remote, but she stops me. “Okay, first, we need to give our two updates.”

Our first semester at NU was sheer perfection. Our schedules synced up so well that we could hang out regularly, not just during early breakfasts or late-night cram sessions. A schedulingsnafu with Kennedy's classes and mine threw us off our game in the second semester.

We scrambled to find a new rhythm, and once we did, Kennedy came up with a plan for the rare times the three of us could meet up. She suggested we each share three highlights from our separate college experiences to keep everyone looped in. But as assignments piled on and time became a luxury, we streamlined our updates to just two each, cutting out any repetition and keeping our meet-ups fresh and engaging. It’s a highlight of my week whenever we can all manage to hang out, and it brings me a kind of joy nothing else can. After spending the past few days trying to make different posters for the winter showcase and giving up, I’ve spent most of my time either at the library, the rink, or at the gym, hoping that maybe the team will pull through and fix itself.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Scarlett says. “I no longer have thathorribleUTI, and I finally beat Evan in the class Kahoot on Monday, so a win is a win.”

We all burst out laughing at the absurdity of her updates. “Two very disconnected but clap-worthy updates, I have to say, Miss Voss,” Kennedy says, and I agree, clapping too.

“I try.” Scarlett sighs, her body melting into the cushions. “What about you, Ken doll?”

“Can you stop trying to make that nickname happen? It’s not going to happen,” Kennedy retorts, rolling her eyes. Scarlett just shrugs, reaching forward to pick out all the purple candies from the jar on the coffee table. “Well, I finished our portraits, but before you ask, no. You can’t see them until they’re ready.”

She’s been working on and off our group portraits, but she’s constantly saying she’s getting close to finishing them and then completely scraps the painting. I think I’ve posed for more photos for Kennedy than I have for myself. She’s the most creative out of the three of us and everything she makes is beautiful. She’s designed all of her own tattoos and Scarlett’s too.

“Which isn’t going to be for another year,” I mutter under my breath. Scarlett hears me and snickers before thinking.

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