Page 89 of When We Were Us
Allthrough dinner, I kept trying to catch her eye. I was sort of annoyed that Hayley suckered me into sitting across from Wren instead of next to her because I wanted to be as close as possible. But when I realized I’d be able to watch her without being overly obvious, I’d taken every opportunity to do just that. Not that I’d been subtle about it.
She’s even more beautiful than she was at eighteen. Her smile is the same, and she’s got those same deep, chocolate brown eyes. But they hold a maturity that only comes with life experience and time. She’s still that girl I fell in love with all those years ago—only better.
Even when I had walked her and Finnley to Wren’s rental and she’d lurched forward and wretched, all that mattered to me was that she was taken care of. I’d immediately scooped up all that silky, honey gold hair and kept it pulled back until she was finished. I wanted to be the one to take care of this gorgeous, funny, sexy, smart, classy—yes even with the vomiting—sweet woman. It was all I could do to keep from putting her in my truck and taking her home with me so I could make sure she was ok.
When she’d dropped her phone, I’d picked it up. Instead of handing it to Finn, I opened her texting app, tapped in my number, and clicked into the emoji screen. I’d pulled up the shot glass emoji and tapped it three times before hitting send so I’d have her number.
Blowing out a breath, I tip my head back and close my eyes, thinking back to that moment.
Once she’s in the car, I lean in and strap her seat belt around her.
She rolls her head along the headrest and gazes at me with a soft smile. “You’re so handsome, Hayes.” She leans in slightly, inhaling so close to my neck that, while comical, it has my skin heating. “You smell so good. Like…lemons and gingerbread.” She laughs lightly, then hiccups. “Do you remember my grams’ gingerbread, Hank?”
I whisper, nostalgia and longing for this beautiful woman mixing together. “Yeah, I remember.”
Her answering smile is soft when her eyes drift closed. Finn’s door opens and she drops into her seat.
With one last glance at Wren, I say good night to Finn, with a promise from her to text when they get back to Wren’s safely.
When they’re gone, I save her number in my phone.
I type out her first name, ‘Wrenley,’ then hit backspace until it reads ‘Wren.’
Then, I tell myself to stop being a pussy and type out the nickname I’ve had for her since she was ten.
‘Wrennie Girl.’
I hit save and then navigate to the picture I took of her when she wasn’t looking. Hutch had convinced her to do a few shots with him, and when she’d taken a big shot of tequila, she dropped her lime. I took the picture right after Hutch said something that made her laugh. I save it as her contact photo.
Opening my eyes, I flip my phone open, pull the picture up, and stare down at it again. It’s not the best quality—given the limited technology and age of my phone—but she still takes my breath away.
It felt incredible seeing her interact with my family last night. That had almost been better than thinking of getting my hands on her in the kitchen. One thought steadied me, while the other made my pulse race. Multiple times last night, I’d caught myself imagining that she was back here for longer than a couple of months, and that we were together. I let myself imagine sharing this sort of thing with her and my family on weekends for the rest of our lives.
I flip the phone shut, drop it to the desk, and scrub my hands down my face.
It was cheesy as fuck, but I’d been checking my phone all morning to see if she’d text me, call me...something. I could text her, but I want her to want to reach out. I need it. As confident as I’d felt last night, a part of me is still that kid she rejected.
Now, my mind goes back to when I’d fisted my hand in her hair and told her all the things I wanted to do to her. All she’d done was take a sip of my favorite whiskey and smile up at me, and my cock was hard as a rock.
I’d gone home last night and laid awake for over an hour thinking about her, until I’d given in and fucked my fist, coming hard and fast as I thought of her riding me. I haven’t thought this much about sex since I was twenty.
Jesus, I’m a mess.
Tossing my pen onto the desk, I lean back in my chair. I’m so damn restless. Standing, I stretch. It’s just after ten, and with the exception of an email or two, I’m worthless just sitting. Maybe a walk will help me focus on actual work instead of thinking of all the places I’d like to lick whiskey off Wren’s body.
I decide to check in on Apollo, and I’m almost out the door when my phone dings with an incoming text. I nearly bust my ass when I trip over Tucker on the way back to my desk.
My heart pounding, I pick it up. Relief floods my veins when I flip it and the screen lights up with ‘Text from: Wrennie Girl.’ I click open her text.
Wrennie Girl
Shot glasses, huh?
Though I can’t see the emojis I’d texted myself, I was hoping it would make her smile when she saw them on her end. I chuckle and glance at the open door to my office. I’m glad I’m alone because I couldn’t hide my grin if I tried to. Before I can respond, she texts again.
Wrennie Girl
Thanks for the ginger ale. That was very nice of you.
