Page 118 of You Had Me At Thirteen

I laugh as I throw my head back. ‘Jesus. Fucking great.’

‘Look I’m sorry, I didn’t plan any of it. It just… happened.’

‘You could have told me, you know? I won’t break.’

‘I know that now. I should have told you, I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?’ She pleads with her eyes.

‘Fine,’ I say, knowing full well I can never stay mad at her. ‘But no more secrets. I can’t handle witnessing you getting frisky again. My mind won’t survive it.’

Mum slaps my arm as her face flames, making me laugh. ‘Let’s not mention it ever again.’

‘Deal.’

We walk back out to where we left the guys. Wren is missing and has found his way into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of orange juice as I walk in, which makes me smile. I love it when he tastes like my favourite drink. It’s a heady combination.

There’s another awkward silence when Eli enters the kitchen, coming up behind my mum and wrapping his arms around her waist. He kisses the top of her head, but his eyes stay on Wren, which is weird considering that I’m the daughter in this situation.

Wren just glares at him before he turns to me. ‘Anyway, we have an assignment to work on.’

I frown at him, before it registers what he’s doing. ‘Right. Yeah, the assignment.’

Wren drags me up the stairs, leaving Mum and Eli watching after us.

When the door is closed, I jump onto the bed, curling my legs up underneath me. ‘What the hell was that? I didn’t even see Eli at the funeral.’

Wren sits next to me, placing his glass on the bedside table. ‘He was there. As soon as I saw him just now, I recognised him straight away.’

‘How did he know about your mum?’

Wren pokes my forehead. ‘Your mum, obviously.’

‘Oh, yeah. Duh.’ I flop onto my back, resting my head on my hands as I stare at the ceiling. ‘But why is he here? Does he live here?’

It’s weird seeing my mum with someone. It’s been so long but I never pictured her with someone like Eli. He reminds me of a weasel, small and rat like. Something about him not quite right, but I guess he’s good looking in that no-personality kind of way.

‘How would I know, babe? Ask him. You’re good at getting into everyone else’s business.’

‘You’re a dick,’ I say, poking my tongue out at him.

He grabs for it but misses, then presses himself on top of me, his forearms holding up his weight so he doesn’t crush me.

‘Did you walk in on your mum?’ Wren presses his lips together to stifle the grin on his face.

Heat crawls up my chest and neck as I recall the incident. ‘Yes! And never bring it up again, or I’ll cut your dick off.’

‘You’ll cut my dick off?’ He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching.

‘Right off,’ I say, making a slicing motion across his neck.

‘Righto, bride of Chucky,’ Wren says, kissing all over my face and tickling my ribs. ‘You’re a savage little thing aren’t you?’

I’m squirming as fits of laughter have me snorting. Wren finds this hilarious, which sends my face flaming and me trying to cover it with my hands.

Wren frees my face. ‘It’s cute that you sound like a little piggy when you laugh, baby.’ He kisses the tip of my nose, then my lips.

‘I hate you,’ I say, trying to fight him off me.

Eventually Wren rolls off me, and rests against the headboard, his face going serious as he rubs his forehead. ‘That guy is seriously off, though.’

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