Page 17 of Reckless at Westbrook High

I cock my head and he curses, dropping his face in his hands like he can’t believe he just said that out loud.

“Wren.”

“Don’t, Lev,” he whispers, desperately ripping his hands through his hair like he’s hanging on by a thread. “Please, just.. fuck.”

I hate this.

All this pain and heartache he keeps bottled up inside, allowing it to eat away at him day in and day out.. it’s fucking killing him.

Unable to stop myself, I slide my hands over his thighs and open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, but then he shoves me back and fucks off without a backward glance, moving for the kitchen to grab himself a bottle of Jack from the makeshift bar set up on the island.

I don’t chase him.

I want to – I really fucking want to – but I don’t. Instead I drop back in my seat and swallow the rest of my drink, knowing he’ll come back to me once he’s taken a minute to cool off.

Fuck, I hope he comes back to me.

Chapter Six

Wren

Thank fuck.

I said thank fuck like a fucking idiot, and if he’d have given me the answer I didn’t wanna hear just now, I’m pretty fuckin’ positive no one would’ve been able to stop me from ruining Ryan’s smug fucking face.

Just as I think it, he lifts his eyes to mine over Rachel’s shoulder from across the kitchen, raising a cocky ass brow like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I should kick his ass anyway.

Teach him to keep his eyes where they belong and away from what’s mine.

Mine?

Jesus.

He’s not mine.

I don’t even want him to be mine, and yet every time I see him look at another guy or vice versa, my blood burns with a possessiveness I didn’t even know I was capable of.

I was never like this with Freya.

Sure, she was mine – the blond haired, blue eyed little pixie I had my heart set on marrying when I was sixteen and stupid – but I didn’t lose my shit if she’d look at the boys or if they’d look back at her.

I wanted them to like her.

Damon couldn’t stand her from day one, Kai barely tolerated her on a good day, Ryan just found her annoying, and Levi.. he hated her just as much as she hated him, and back when she had the balls to stick up for herself because she had me to fall back on, she wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought of him. They were constantly at each others throats, and I can’t remember how many times I had to tell them to shut the fuck up and chill the fuck out.

“Somethin’ on your mind, ganja man?” Callie asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I laugh lightly to hide the ache in my chest and pour out a couple shots of Jack, forgetting the coke, then I knock my glass against hers and throw it back, pretending I don’t feel her eyes on my face while she leans her elbows on the island beside me. She knows some things, things I told her when I was drunk and high on the roof that night a few weeks back, things I wish I’d never let slip because she’s a clever little thing who sees a helluva lot more than she lets on.

“What happened to him?”

I frown at that, following her line of sight to Levi. He’s still sitting on the couch outside with his head tipped back and his eyes on the stars, dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt that clings to his body like a second skin, the small cut and the bruise beneath his left eye darkening even further as the minutes tick by.

“He’s a fighter,” I tell her, dropping my eyes to the split on his knuckles. “Not so much now, but back when we were kids he’d turn up at school with a black eye and a busted up hand almost every other week.”

“Kids?” she asks, cutting her eyes to mine. “How long’s this been goin’ on?”

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