Page 38 of When We Were Us
Getting there.
Finn
Then you should totally come.
Wren
What time?
Finn
It’s a late game at nine. I can pick you up.
Please, Wren?
I won’t take no for an answer. Remember how long I held out when Hudson dared me to eat a mini-Milk-Bone every day for a month?
I did remember that. She’d lasted no less than twenty-seven days until her mom made her quit because she was going to get sick. Finn had been so mad that she was three days away from winning the bet, for which the biggest prize was bragging rights. I laugh as I text her back.
Wren
God, that was so gross. You two and your weird competitions.
You couldn't pay me twenty bucks to lick a dog bone.
Finn
Haha! So, you’ll come?
Wren
Sure.
Finn
YES!!! ??
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
wrenley
The ride downtowndoesn't take long while we reminisce. The speakers of her near-mint condition Volvo 740 Turbo vibrate with Warren G’s “Regulate.” Where I’ve always been more of a country music girl, Finn was easily influenced by Hudson, and ’90s rap quickly became her thing.
Finnley has always been a bit of a free spirit, so it's comforting that things with her haven’t changed all that much. When I first get into the car with her, I’m worried my nerves about attending a public event in my hometown after all these years will get the best of me. But as the music continues and I find myself rapping along with her, all those fears melt away.
By the time we pull up at the park and Finn pulls into a parking spot, I can see it’s not super busy. Judging by the number of cars in the lot, there's enough people here to make blending in a little easier.
When you’re new in town—or, in my case, notnewbut returning after many years—you tend to draw attention. It’s one thing to be out shopping around town or hitting up the café. I guess I shouldn’t flatter myself. Most of these people probably don’t even remember me, and the ones that do have their own problems and most likely couldn’t care less about me showing up back here after seventeen years.
But everyone is gathered in one place with the singular focus of watching a softball game while the man I still have insane chemistry with plays, and it makes my stomach twist into knots for some reason. I’d like a chance to talk to him, and I’d rather not have an audience. And I admit that part of it is because I’m anxious to see him again. Not in a ‘I can't wait to get out of here’ way, but in a ‘I can’t wait to see him’ kind of way.
That’snew.
“You ready, Wrennie Jo?” Finn asks, killing the engine.
I reach to gather my purse from the floor just as Finn picks up a half-full mug of coffee. My purse bumps the bottom of the mug, spilling cold coffee all down the front of my white top.
“Oh, shit. Wren, I’m such a klutz!” She reaches across me to pop open the glove box and hands me a stack of napkins, but it’s no use. My shirt is sopping wet from chest to belly button, and the brown stain will definitely be noticeable even once dry.
