Page 21 of You Had Me At Thirteen

‘Fine. He’s hot. Happy?’

Audrey’s mouth perks up on one side. ‘Maybe.’ She winks then pushes her sunglasses back up her face, before pulling out onto the road.

I stare out the window, hating that she’s right. And hating even more that when Wren is around me, tiny jolts of electricity dance around inside my body, especially between my legs.

As much as my mind tries to establish its dominance over my body, it’s apparent that it’s failing.

Yes, Wren is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. At thirteen I knew he would be trouble, but it’s taken me this long to see that he’ll be trouble forme.

I have to get it together, because there’s no way I’m going to admit that out loud. Not to anyone. Least of all him.

TEN

Matilda

* * *

Wren arrives at seven on the dot with a pizza in one hand, his laptop in the other. It’s not like I’d been staring at the clock for the last half an hour, my stomach in knots at the thought of being in the same roomalonewith Wren. The thought may have crossed my mind several thousand times today, but I’m not nervous.

He follows me into the kitchen and places the pizza on the island bench. ‘Nice place,’ he says as he takes in his surroundings.

This is the first time Wren has been inside my house, which makes me want to give him a tour. I don’t, for obvious reasons. He’s not allowed anywhere near my bedroom. Let’s just say I may need a little more self-control if that ever happens. Today is not the day for that.

‘Thanks. Where do you want to do this?’ I say.

He lifts a shoulder. ‘I’m easy. Where’s your mum?’

‘At work, why?’ His comment about being easy would usually elicit commentary from me, but that’s overshadowed by his interest in where my mum is. Oh shit, does he think we’re going to do more than study?

He clears his throat as he brushes his fingers over his shirt. ‘No reason, I haven’t seen her in a while. Thought I’d say hi.’

Why does he want to say hi to my mum? As I watch him, I’m sure he’ll give himself away, but when he doesn’t look at me again, I give up hoping for more.

Instead, I grab two plates and lead him to the family room at the back of the house. Why do they call them family rooms? It’s not like you can shove everyone into one room and expect them to emerge all loved up and bonded together, sharing hugs andI love you’s.

Wren sits on the rug in front of the large couch against the back wall while I curl myself into the single couch in the corner. I’ve always loved the feel of the olive-green velvet against my skin, but right now, I just feel sweaty and gross.

With his laptop sitting on his thighs as he eats, scrolling through the screen with his other hand, I pretend as though I'm writing something on the page in front of me. But the way his long fingers dance over the keys of his laptop and the way his tongue darts out to lick pizza sauce from his bottom lip keep me laser-focused on him. He must sense this, because he tilts his head to the side, fixing his eyes on me.

I glance down at my half-eaten slice of pizza, hoping that he hasn’t noticed the heat in my cheeks, but after a couple of seconds, I still feel his eyes on me, so I look up again to find him watching me, his lips parted as he runs his tongue over them.

I’m unable to breathe, let alone move. And forget about forming sentences. Everything else dissolves into a blur as we watch each other for a long moment. It’s not until Wren smirks I realise he knows full well he’s a fucking prick.

‘Seems we’re pretty good at this eye contact thing,’ he says.

‘Whatever,’ I say, trying to act like I’m unaffected by his proximity.

Christ, what is happening to me? Is this what an anxiety attack feels like? This is Wren, for fuck’s sake. The same Wren who doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and looks at lots of girls the way he’s looking at me.

After a few seconds, Wren runs his hand through his hair, his gaze going distant for a moment before he picks up the pizza box and holds it out for me in silent question.

‘No thanks,’ I say, lifting my plate to show off the slice still sitting on it. The slice that will sit there until the end of time, because I can’t stomach another bite.

I’m starving, but this isn’t satisfying or tempting. Wren’s now ruining pizza, as well as my life.

‘Suit yourself,’ he says before taking another slice and shoving half of it into his mouth.

I just stare at the floor in front of me before I get an overwhelming urge to ask him about his life. Never have I been interested in what Wren did with his spare time. My guess is that if he isn’t fucking around with some chick, he’s with his stupid friends. Hot friends, but stupid all the same.

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