Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
It had been years ago. She was still in high school, but Greyson was years past graduation. She’d just heard back from the business school she’d applied to. Rejected.
The sting still resonated, a paper cut on her pride that refused to heal. Who knew it would only get worse before the day was over?
Wren didn’t know why Greyson was the first person she ran to for comfort, but he was. When she got to his house, he had some friends over. This was before he’d built his home in the woods, and he still lived with Magnus.
She’d walked up on them in the midst of a conversation about typical guy stuff—work, sports, women. One of his friends spotted her first and smiled. The other men quickly noticed her as well. Everyone seemed friendly enough, except Greyson.
“What are you doing here, Wren?” They no longer spent as much time together as they had in high school, and she wondered if that was more than circumstantial. Sometimes, it felt like a personal choice—but never hers.
“I didn’t know you had company.”
“Whoa, Grey, did you double-book?” one of the guys sitting around the bonfire joked, flames casting shadows across their faces. “We can take a walk.”
“Shut the fuck up, Andy.”
She realized then that his friends assumed she was just one of his booty calls, another girl in a rotation she never knew existed.
“This isn’t a good time, Wren.”
“Oh.” The sting of the rejection letter burned through the back pocket of her jeans like a brand. She didn’t want to go home, and she didn’t want to think. She came there because she wanted to forget, to lose herself in his familiarity.
Without invitation, she pulled a beer from the cooler, condensation slick against her palm.
Greyson caught her hand before she could open it, his fingers firm and warm against her wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Having a beer.”
He took the bottle from her, and his friends howled and whistled as if she’d just been called to the principal’s office. “Not a chance.”
He had a lot of nerve. He’d been drinking since freshman year and she was just around the corner from graduating. “Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“Looking out for you isn’t hypocritical.”
“Well, you’re not my father.” She yanked the bottle out of his hand and cracked it open, the hiss of escaping carbonation sharp in the night air.
Greyson scowled with disapproval as she chugged down several gulps, the bitter taste foreign on her tongue. The guys hollered in full support of her rebellion and pushed another chair closer to the fire, sparks dancing upward into the darkness.
Greyson, as always, got silent and pissed. Six beers later, and she was tripping over her words, laughing at jokes that probably weren’t that funny, and speaking without a filter while woodsmoke clung to her hair and clothes.
When she needed to pee, she excused herself. The walk back to the house from the yard was a long one that gave her plenty of time to realize she was drunk and should probably go home. But she wasn’t ready to leave—wasn’t ready to face the rejection letter or the uncertain future it represented.
After using the bathroom, she came face-to-face with Grey’s friend, Andy, who waited just outside of the bathroom like a predator who’d cornered his prey.
“Having fun?”
“Mm-hm. I am.” Beer was amazing, and she wondered why she’d waited so long to try it, why she’d been so good for so long.
Andy stepped closer, close enough that she could smell cologne mixed with smoke and beer. “So you’re a senior?”
She nodded, the movement making her head swim.
“Planning on going to college?”
She didn’t want to think about college at the moment, didn’t want to face the reality of closed doors and limited options. “I’m undecided.”
He looked down and took her measure with eyes that seemed to catalog every inch. “You seeing anyone?”
She shook her head. Andy was one of those guys who was always in the background at Greyson’s table or parties. She’d met him years ago but never really talked to him.
“How come?” He was standing right in front of her now, close enough to touch her, and when he did—fingers trailing down her arm with clear intention—she didn’t pull back. “You’re pretty enough. You should have guys falling all over you.”
It was a little hard to date when Logan or Soren or Greyson were always chasing guys away from her and scaring them off with threats and territorial glares. When she did get the slightest attention, it reminded her how much she wanted a boyfriend and how nice it would be to have someone special in her life.
She looked up at Andy through beer-blurred vision. He seemed interested. He had a nice face and dressed okay. There wasn’t anything wrong with him that she could tell.
He grinned, catching her checking him out. “Like what you see?” he asked, holding her stare with confidence that left her unsure. He was either grossly cocky or attractively assertive.