Page 86 of You Had Me At Thirteen

I have to blink a few times. Wren fills the doorway, his hair wet, no shirt and my favourite grey sweatpants hanging from his hips. I scan his entire body a few times before he pulls me into him and kisses me. My nostrils fill with the scent of his familiar citrus and woody body wash, and I’m tempted to go and lather myself in it.

With our lips still locked, Wren pushes the door closed with his foot. He fists my hair, tilting my head back as he nuzzles into my neck and growls, ‘I missed you.’

Water droplets from his hair fall onto my cheeks, but I leave them there to cool my too-hot skin. ‘You only saw me three hours ago,’ I say with a giggle.

‘Feels like forever.’ Wren throws me over his shoulder with a smack to my bum. At first I think he’s taking me up to his room, but we head into the kitchen instead, before he plants me back on my feet at the head of the dining table. On it is my favourite meal.

Wren chews his bottom lip as he shuffles on his feet, bringing his hand up to rub the back his neck. ‘Hungry?’

My stomach grumbles in appreciation. ‘You made this?’

‘Yep. I can cook.’ Wren’s face changes from one of doubt to one of smugness when he grins. Usually that grin comes out when he’s pissing me off, but this time it’s adorable.

‘Yeah, you can.’ I feel the urge to move closer to him, so I do, taking his hand in the process. ‘This looks and smells amazing. How did you know it’s my favourite?’

Wren winces. ‘I may have… asked your mum.’

‘You didn’t?’ My heart flutters in my chest at the thought of Wren asking my mum what my favourite meal is.

He nods as he pulls out a chair for me and we pile our plates with the most delicious smelling spaghetti and meatballs I’ve ever had.

‘I can’t believe you did all this,’ I say, shoving a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth. I have to close my eyes as my tastebuds dance inside my mouth. It’s fucking amazing. ‘This is so good, Wren. Thank you.’

He lifts one shoulder. ‘I wanted to say thanks,’ he says, reaching over to run his thumb over my bottom lip to remove the mess I’m making. He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks the sauce from it.

God, I’m in trouble.

‘For what?’ I say when I manage to form coherent words.

‘For just being here.’

I smile at him, placing a hand over his. Audrey’s words from earlier about me telling Wren I was falling for him sneak up on me. Seems like no better time than right now. I’ve seen a different side to him, less defensive, and I know there’s even more to him. If there’s even a chance that Wren feels the same way, maybe I can take a chance for once and let him in. What if falling in love isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be? What if it’s the best thing I’ve ever done?

With his hand in mine, my thumb rubbing against the back of his, I decide to take the chance. ‘I like you Wren, like a lot. I think I’m falling—’

Wren drops his eyes to the table, his face pained as stares at his plate for way too long. Okay, this isn’t the reaction I wanted, or expected. Maybe I’m making our connection up in our head. Maybe he is the person I thought he was at the beginning.

I pull my hand away. ‘Wren?’

‘Don’t,’ he says, slamming his hands on the table before pushing himself to stand, sending the chair to the ground as he shoves his hands through his hair and stalks out of the room.

I chase after him. ‘What the fuck is your problem?’

Damnit. I just can’t keep up.

He’s pacing the lounge room, rubbing his temples, mumbling under his breath.

‘Wren?’ I wave my hand in front of him, hoping to break him free from whatever demons have overtaken his body.

It works. In seconds he’s in my space, making me back away, until the backs of my knees hit the front of the couch. I have to hold my breath to stop my heart from beating so hard. I swear he can hear it. My knees give way and I fall to the cushion.

Wren grips the back of the couch, his forearm inches from my head as he keeps his eyes lowered. ‘You can’t…’ he says, his voice almost a whisper.

‘You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do with my feelings, Wren. That’s not fair.’

He closes his eyes, his breathing short and sharp. ‘You just… can’t.’

‘Can’t what?’

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