MY HEART HAMMERED IN MY CHEST AS I SAT AT the foot of my bed.
I’d never had a girl in my house before.
I’d left Wren and her chai latte downstairs, making up some excuse about wanting to get my iPod so she could hear my favorite song from the latest Coldplay album. In reality I was picking up in my room and figuring out how I could get her to come upstairs, since I pretty much wanted to devour her whole. Pop and Tiff were at a couples bunco night, which proved how desperate my father was to get out. They would be gone for at least a few more hours. And a few more hours alone with Wren sounded like the kind of way I wanted to spend my night.
Only . . . I didn’t want to blow it the way I’d blown it that morning at the mall when Wren caught me in Hollister. If that hadn’t been a Grayson Barrett, you’ve got to stop screwing up your life kind of wake-up call, I didn’t know what was. I thought, or hoped, she bought my explanation, which I worded carefully so I wasn’t exactly bullshitting her. Going to see Allegra was a favor to Luke. He was interested in her . . . or her father’s house, but I didn’t need to get into that. And I wouldn’t. That part of my life was over. Done. Luke and the guys would realize that soon enough.
And then the chick from Leaning Tower calling me Mike at the ice-skating rink. That was like some sort of evil synchronicity in action. Seriously what were the odds? That had been easy enough to play off. I hated lying to Wren. From now on there would be no careful wording necessary.
But Wren . . . she was such a . . . surprise.
Every time we were together, it was like she revealed a little bit more of herself, and I dug it, the not knowing what to expect. The way she made me laugh. The look in her eyes when she’d let go of my hands at the ice-skating rink, proving she had a wicked side. I could spend all day watching her face change expression. And God, I wanted her up in my room so badly, my body was practically buzzing.
So I sat there, clueless, trying to figure out my next move.
Mike Pearson would not be nervous. As Mike I’d go downstairs, tell Wren how hot she looked in her skinny jeans, kiss her until her legs were so weak she couldn’t stand, then lead her upstairs without a second thought. But I wouldn’t be that way with Wren. Couldn’t. This was real. And besides, I wanted to give her something, and being Mike was all about taking.
Luke had given me the necklace to unload in the spring. It was from a hit I hadn’t been involved in. That’s the way we usually ran it with something personal like jewelry. It was easier to let go of the stuff if you didn’t have a direct link to it. I was supposed to bring it to Lenny, our gold guy through Spiro, but I put it off, tucking the necklace away in the top drawer of my desk, where it stayed, forgotten.
Until that afternoon.
It was pretty, unique. A gold chain with a flat charm the size of a dime with the word love inscribed in its center. A ruby teardrop-shaped bead and another even smaller circle with a heart etched into it. Simple. Perfect. Even if it had been stolen. I didn’t know from where or who, so I reasoned that having it in my possession was just like . . . say, wandering into a pawnshop and picking it out. Right?
And I continued with this train of thought, because I really did want to give her something. Even that morning as I’d raced through the mall, back to the Chrysler, back to Bayonne, swearing never to set foot on Staten Island again, I knew I wanted to make up for it, but how? Flowers? Stuffed animal? Balloon? Yeah, right . . . Here’s a balloon, Wren. Sorry you caught me talking to a hot girl I banged last spring when I was casing her house.
Nah, jewelry was the better choice. This piece in particular. It said exactly what I hoped to say to her one day, the sort of necklace I’d pick out anyway. With everything that had gone down during my expulsion, Luke would surely have forgotten it. I picked it up again, letting it dangle from my fingers, imagining Wren’s face when I gave it to her. Maybe it was a dumb idea.
“Hey.” Her voice rang out through my room.
I flipped the necklace into my palm as I saw her in my doorway. The move did not go unnoticed. She brought her latte to her lips, hiding a grin as she leaned against the door-jamb. I shot up from my bed, shoving the necklace into my front pocket. This had been my goal, to get her upstairs, but the reality of it left me speechless.
“Sorry. I just wanted . . . is it okay if I’m up here?” she asked.
“Come in,” I said. She put her drink on my desk, sliding her hands into her back pockets as she looked around the room.
“So neat. Like your car,” she said, moving past me. “My brother’s room is a mess even when he’s not there.”
“Yeah, got rid of a lot of stuff after, well . . . getting tossed from Saint Gabe’s. Gave the room a new coat of paint. Seemed like a good idea,” I said, almost embarrassed at the complete lack of something interesting for her to look at. I’d tossed trophies, photos, any reminder of St. Gabe’s, into a storage bin over the summer and stowed it in the basement. My walls were blank.
“I like the color,” she said, picking up the only picture I had in my room—a photo of me, Ryder, and Grier taken at Jenkinsons’ over Labor Day. I walked toward her, looking over her shoulder.
“That’s my half brother and half sister,” I said, taking in that summery scent of her hair. My body ached to feel her against me. If I didn’t make some move soon, I’d start foaming at the mouth.
“Omigosh, look at the grin on her face . . . You must be an awesome big brother,” she said, placing it down on my dresser. I laughed. Awesome big brother. It sounded pretty cool coming from her.
“How about that Coldplay song you wanted me to hear?”
“Oh, right,” I said, going over to my docking station to pick up my iPod. My hands shook. I scrolled through the songs, completely blind to what I was doing. What was I doing? The Trojans I’d bought from the corner drugstore as a just in case practically chanted my name from my side-table drawer. I tossed the iPod onto my pillow and turned toward her.
“I came up here to clean . . . my dirty clothes from the week are shoved under the bed, and I don’t even own the new Coldplay album. I have no idea why I said that,” I confessed, jamming my hands in my pockets.
Her face reddened; she looked down. Smooth, Grayson.
“Coldplay was your corkscrew,” she said.
“Ha, um, yeah, you’re right,” I said. We stood there, looking at each other. She wanted to be here. I wanted to be here. Why was I so freakin’ nervous?
Wren brushed away some stray hair from her eyes, reminding me of the first night I saw her. She had no clue what that did to me, how sweet she looked. Like when she’d saved me. Had I known all along that this moment was coming? The eyes I’d been running toward with such fierce determination were wide open, taking me in.
“Wren,” I said, reaching for her. A soft, sharp plink caused us both to look down.
The necklace sat splayed on the hardwood floor by her foot. She crouched down to pick it up. Dumb idea or not, the necklace was in play. Neither of us could ignore it.
“Here,” she said, handing it to me.
I held it up, the charms dangling in front of her face.
“This is for you.”
She furrowed her brow and reached for it.
“For me, really?”
“No, for Tiff, for Christmas. I thought I’d run it by you,” I answered, smirking. And when a momentary flash of disappointment clouded her face, I had to add, “Yes, for you, Wren.”
She gave me a look then, so open, honest, and thrilled, it just about brought me to my knees. I placed the necklace in her palm. Her eyes lit up when she saw what the charm said.