Page 8 of The Players We Hate
She was beautiful and not in the loud, look-at-me way most girls at these parties went for. She was a quiet beauty that made everyone else seem like they were trying too hard.
I almost missed Alisa’s wave, her voice cutting through the music. “Talon! You took off before I could introduce you to my roommate!”
Roommate. Of course.
Wren stiffened, her gaze snapping to me before Alisa could even finish. We crossed paths at parties last year, but never more than in passing. Now she was planted firmly between us—and this time, I didn’t look away.
I stepped toward her, slow enough to notice the shift in her posture and the way her chin lifted a fraction like she was bracing for whatever was coming.
It wasn’t our first exchange tonight. We both knew that, but it felt different now.
For all the reasons I should hate Wren, I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt toward her. It was messing with my head more than I wanted to admit. The guys were still cheeringsomewhere behind me, but a few of them turned to watch. I stopped when I was a few feet away.
Alisa glanced between us, oblivious to the tension in the air. “This is Talon,” she said brightly.
Wren’s heart was thudding. I could see the pulse in her neck.
“We’ve met,” Wren said before I could. Her voice was even, but there was the faintest edge to it, a challenge tucked in the words.
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Briefly,” I replied, meeting her eyes. “Didn’t expect you to stick around long, though.”
“I guess I’m full of surprises,” she said, and though her voice was steady, there was a flicker beneath it. Maybe it was intrigue or challenge… or perhaps both.
The noise behind us was still there. Beneath the music’s relentless pulse and the low murmur of nearby voices, I could feel eyes on us. Everyone here knew the history between our families—the fallout, and the lines that weren’t supposed to be crossed.
I took another step closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “Good to know.”
Her gaze flicked to the bold letters stretched across my jersey, then back to my face. Neither of us moved.
“I didn’t know this was your house,” she said, her voice careful but not timid.
“You’ve never been here.” I set my cup down on the table beside me. “Didn’t think anyone from the Perry family would ever show up here.”
That got her attention.
Her spine straightened, shoulders squaring. “That’s my last name,” she said evenly. “It’s not a warning label.”
Her voice was soft, but there was heat beneath it. Enough to make me pause.
Alisa laughed lightly, trying to smooth the edges. “Wren’s more books than beer. She doesn’t usually come to these kinds of things.”
“Exactly,” I said, not looking away from Wren. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of crowd. You sure this is where you want to be?”
Her jaw tightened. “I came with Alisa. She said it was safe.”
“Safe for who?” I stepped in enough to feel the air shift between us, the tension pulling tight. “You know the kind of damage your name’s left behind?”
She didn’t flinch. She tilted her head and pressed her lips together, weighing every possible answer before finally landing on the truth.
“I’m not here to defend anyone and certainly not my last name,” she said finally. “I came to Rixton to start over. To stop being someone I never chose to be.”
It hit me harder than I wanted to admit.
She was not defending him. Not pretending she was above it all. She was standing her ground in enemy territory, and I didn’t know if I wanted to push her away or see what she did next.
I took a moment to study her. The low light sharpened the lines of her profile, highlighting the flush in her cheeks from the heat, and the unflinching clarity in her brown eyes.
She was braver than I gave her credit for.
