Page 72 of You Had Me At Thirteen

Emerson hands me the keys to Wren’s car, then attempts to help Wren from the ground.

‘I can do it my fucking self,’ Wren says, shoving Emerson off him.

Em holds his hands up, and steps back. He says nothing, but I can see the hurt in his eyes when he glances my way.

‘I’ve got this,’ I say, wrapping my arm around Wren’s waist. ‘Will you be okay?’

‘Yeah, Koby will be here in a minute.’ He looks at the ground, kicking his shoe into it. It takes a second for him to meet my eyes again, and when he does his hazel ones are glassy. ‘Thanks, Til. It means a lot that Wren has someone like you in his life.’

‘I can hear you,’ Wren says. ‘My ears aren’t drunk.’

I have to squeeze my lips shut because drunk Wren is adorable, even if it is under horrible circumstances. Emerson snorts behind me, so I give him the finger before wrestling Wren to the porch. When we reach the front door, Wren stands up straight, or at least as straight as a drunk man can, and when his eyes land on me he stops dead.

‘You,’ he says, pointing a finger at me as though it’s the first time he’s seeing me.

‘I’ve been here the whole time,’ I say. ‘Now, give me your keys.’

Christ. He’s fucking gorgeous.

He squints at me, eyes bloodshot, but as beautiful as ever, while he fumbles around inside his jeans pocket for his house keys. ‘You don’t know…Matilda.’He grins, his eyes closing as he sways backwards. ‘Matilda. Matilda. You make me crazy…’

The smile on my face grows. His slurred words shouldn’t be funny, especially in the situation he’s found himself in, but his guard is down. It’s enough that he’s drank himself into oblivion, but it’s a side of him I’ve never seen before. I’m wondering if it’s true what they say about the truth coming out when you’re drunk.

He sways again, but before he hits the timber deck, I grab his shirt, tugging him towards me until we’re almost chest to chest, but he steadies himself using my shoulders. Then his finger is on my lips, except I’m not the one making noise. I’m not sure if he realises the amount of grunting and cursing he’s doing subconsciously as he squints at his keys.

‘Okay, buddy. Let’s get you inside.’ I take the keys from his hand and he drapes an arm over my shoulder as I glance at each key on the chain.

‘So bossy,’ he says, grabbing a handful of my hair and bringing it to his nose. ‘Your hair smells pretty. You’re pretty. Why are you so pretty? It makes my heart hurt. You shouldn’t do that, you know?’

I freeze, unsure whether to respond to that or ignore it. As I press a key into the lock and twist the handle, I choose to ignore his statement.

Wren trips over the small step into the house, but I manage to lug him into the front entrance and help him up the stairs. When we get into his room, he walks over to the window and stares out at mine. He bends and attempts to pull his shoes off, except he almost takes a tumble, so I walk over to help.

‘Come on,’ I say, grabbing his arm. ‘Let’s get you into bed.’

‘I love bed.’ He breathes me in again, allowing me to position him on the end of the mattress so I can kneel in front of him to take his shoes off.

He sucks in a deep breath when he takes another fistful of my hair, wrapping it around his index finger. ‘So beautiful,’ he says in a whisper before falling back onto the bed with a grunt.

It’s not long before his soft snores fill the silence, and I fight the urge to crawl into bed with him. If he was awake, I could ask him what’s going on, but I’m not sure I even want to know what’s happening. My life has become so much more complicated since Wren forced his way into it.

I watch him for a few more moments, until my heart can’t take any more and I move towards his door. Just as I reach it, the bed shifts.

‘Where… come back.’ Wren reaches out for me and pats the mattress beside him, his eyes remaining closed. ‘Til?’

Oh, Christ. He called me Til. That’s the first time he’s ever used my name like that, and if I said it didn’t melt my insides, I’d be flat out lying.

I push out a breath. ‘Go to sleep.’

He holds out his hand again. ‘Please?’

How do I say no to that? Ask any woman in their right mind if they would turn down the sight before me, and you’d be hard-pressed to find one that would say no to him.

I sigh and walk over to the bed, taking off my UGGs before climbing in with him. I grab two of his pillows and put one under my head before placing the other between us. I don’t need a reason to cosy up to him. It’ll only break my heart a little more.

He plants a hand on my face, and I have to move it so I can see him. He’s peeking through one eye, a frown on his face. ‘I think I drank too much,’ he says, wiping his mouth.

‘You’ll be okay. You just need some sleep.’

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