Page 38 of The Ex Project
The heckling continues, and I do a decent job of ignoring them. I don’t look over once, but I know it’s her. I would know Wren’s voice anywhere. The smooth, buttery way she says my name sends a shiver down my spine every time, even when she’s bullying me.
Regardless of how well I’ve done ignoring them, I lose the game, throwing the girls into a frenzy of cheering for my opponent.
“Throw a ball much?” Wren jeers, so I turn toward where she’s sitting. I march straight up to her, not looking at the others as I stride over. Leaning down, I cage her in betweenmy arms, bracing my hands on the bench behind her. Our noses are almost touching as I fix my gaze on her, her eyes widening.
“Think you can do better, Miller?” The corner of my mouth tugs upward. “Come show me.”
She tips her chin up and hands Spencer her beer, which Ally then grabs from Spencer before setting it down on the ground.
“I think you’ve had enough of that,” Ally mutters. Spencer pouts.
Now Wren is on her feet, a little unsteady, and I wonder how many drinks she’s had tonight. More than a few, by the looks of it. She probably needed it to get through the night dressed the way she is. She teeters down the bleachers and turns to the girls, waving her arms in a gesture encouraging them to cheer. I glance around—most people have started filtering out already and there’s only a small group of us left playing beer pong.
“Do you want to fill your cups with water or something?” I offer. Wren doesn’t seem like she needs any more to drink.
“Don’t underestimate me,” she snaps back with a little burp and takes her place at the opposite end of the table. “What are we playing for?” She rests her hands on the table and leans on them, staring me down.
“I don’t know, bragging rights?”
“Pfft. No chance, Landry. There’s no way we aren’t setting stakes.”
I consider her proposition, what I would want if I were to win. Watching her now, I know exactly what it is I want.
“A date,” I say, before I lose the nerve.
“A date?”
“A date. With me. You have to go on a date with me if you lose.” She glances around the gym, thinking.
“What about Emma?” Her eyes narrow on me, and my skin feels hot under her gaze.
“Don’t worry about Emma.” It’s all she needs to know. I’m not about to admit there’s a good possibility I couldn’t make things work with Emma because Wren showed up in town.
“Okay, fine.” She waves her hand as if losing is not even a concern. The alcohol is making her overconfident. Lucky for me, it’s probably also throwing off her aim. “And me?”
“I’ll wear something of your choosing to fire drill next week,” I say, my voice sure and confident. “It can even be that gorgeous dress if you want. Think of it as retribution.” A borderline evil grin forms on her face as she no doubt imagines all the possibilities, the horrible outfits she could make me wear, the teasing I’ll have to endure. Joke’s on her; I win either way. I don’t care what awful things she has planned for me. I just want to spend more time with her.
“Deal.”
“Ladies first,” I say, and she shifts into position, eyebrows furrowing as she focuses. Poppy interrupts her by placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning in to tell her something.
“We’re heading out. Ally is tired and Mason is here to pick her up, so I’m going to catch a ride. Are you okay to get home?” Wren nods, oblivious to the way Poppy’s gaze is darting between her and I, like this is some a setup. I glancedown towards the glossy hardwood floor, rubbing a hand on the back of my neck.
“I can walk home,” she answers. But the interruption was clearly enough to throw her off, screw up her focus for her first throw. Maybe it was that she had to turn her head and now she’s dizzy. Whatever the reason, she throws her first ball, and it goes flying off the side of the table, off into the gymnasium.
Not a great start.
The next one she throws lands in one of my cups, but the one I throw after does, too.
We go back and forth like this for a while, and eventually our score is tied up, but I can tell the drinking is catching up with Wren. Her hand is shakier, her balance off-kilter. And I can hold my own right now.
Now we’re down to one cup each. I sink my shot, and stand back from the table, arms crossed over my chest, eyeing Wren as she takes her aim. It’s going to be a hard one to make. She closes one eye, holding the ball up in front of her face. She looks so concentrated. But when she finally launches it, the ball misses by a long shot.
Wren groans, slapping a palm over her face, and I throw my fists up into the air. Victory.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Her words are slightly slurred together, and she’s unsteady, so I walk over to her and put my arm around her shoulders, half in consolation and half to keep her upright.
“We should get you home.” I glance around the gymnasium. It’s only us left, except for a janitor who seems annoyed we’re still here.
