Page 29 of Riot House
Elbow to the solar plexus.
I have a few self-defense maneuvers already prepped and ready to go in my head, as I skirt around the small coffee table and reluctantly sit myself down in the armchair. At least here I’m close to the fire; the warmth radiating from the flames feels amazing.
Satisfied, Wren runs a hand back through his hair, sweeping the wet curls out of his face. “I wanted you to come here because you’re smart,” he says. “You’re observant, which means you’ll have noticedmenoticingyou. You must know that I’m interested in you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that being the subject of your interest is bad for a girl’s health?”
The boy with the black hair and the vivid eyes looks bemused. “Maybe I’ve been bad in the past. I’m sure Carina’s told you plenty about that.”
“She’s told me some. Mostly about your failed plan to fuck half of Wolf Hall before Christmas. A bet, right? Between you and your Riot House buddies? Or are you gonna tell me that she made that up?”
Wren’s hand stills, a tassel from one of the cushions trapped between his long fingers. He looks at me—into me?—unmoving and unblinking. “There was a bet,” he confirms. “I was supposed to sleep with ten girls between Halloween and Christmas, and I didn’t. That’s how I got stuck wearing the same shit for a month.”
Huh. I’m surprised he actually admitted it. “What happened?” I ask. “The girls start talking and comparing notes? You failed at the last hurdle after putting nine extra notches on your belt?” The comment sounded cool and indifferent inside my head. Out of my mouth, it sounds sour and silly.
“Let’s not fuck around with any of that.” Wren leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Petty quips will get us nowhere fast. Does it bother you that I haven’t been saving myself for marriage or something?”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “Why would it bother me? Your sex life has nothing to do with me. It’s none of my business.”
“And yet, from the judgmental tone in your voice, it sounds like it bothers you very much.”
“Really. I don’t care. If the girls you sleep with are consenting, then—”
“I’m not arapist, Elodie. I’ve never done anything without a girl’s consent. Usually, I only ever indulge a girl with my affections if she’s on her knees, begging for it.”
“Oh, and I’m sure you just love that, don’t you? The begging. Must do wonders for your over-inflated ego.”
“Begging leaves no room for misunderstanding.” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, propping up his head as he looks at me intently. “I don’t like uncertainty. I like things to be very black and white. Clear cut. What about you?”
“Yes, I like when things are clear cut. Which is why I’ll let you know here and now that I will never lower myself to my knees for you. You’re a monster, who loves to treat women like shit—”
“You don’t know how I treat women. You don’t know anything about me, remember?”
This motherfucker. He has an answer for everything. “Appearances would indicate that you chew women up and spit them out like they’re a disposable commodity. I’m sure you were furious that you lost that bet, weren’t you? It must have stung that you weren’t able to convince ten poor girls to dive into bed with you.”
My heart’s pounding in my chest, but Wren just sits there with his chin in his hand, the light from the fire still playing across the elegant, masculine frame of his body, completely impassive as he watches me rant. He seems pensive as he says, “You’ve figured it all out, haven’t you? You wanna know the truth? The truth is that I didn’t have to try and win that bet. The moment Pax told Damiana about it, it was all over the academy by the end of the day. And then I had girls tripping over themselves to fuck me. I could have tripled my quota twenty-four hours in. Not evenIhave that kind of stamina.”
“Oh wow. Big man. So, you won the bet after all. You just accepted the punishment for the sheer hell of it?”
“No. I didn’t screw any of those girls. They wanted to throw their hats into the ring for the hell of it. To say they danced toe-to-toe with one of the Riot House boys. My dick doesn’t get hard for that kind of shit. A girl’s gotta earn me, not think she’s doing me a favor.”
“Whoa. Careful. That ego’s bordering on ridiculous now.”
“It’s not ego. It’s just a fact.”
“So, you’re a good little boy after all. A saintly virgin. Is that what you brought me here to tell me?” Preposterous. If he legitimately tries to convince me that he has morals and has never slept with a student at Wolf Hall, then I’ll know him for exactly who he is: a bold-faced liar.
Wren wiggles his toes in front of the fire, baring his teeth in a wolfish smile. “I’m about the furthest thing you’ll find from a virgin here,” he says. “I was deflowered alongtime ago.”
That choice of word—deflower—is laughable. It implies that Wren was once innocent, before he was plucked and sullied at someone else’s hand. Wren was never innocent. He came out of the womb corrupt and depraved, I’m certain of it.
“And no. I can already see it on your face. You know the truth. I’m the furthest thing from good you’ll find here, too. Don’t you want to know what I lost by not playing along with Dashiell and Pax’s bet?”
“No. I don’t really care. It’s so predictable, this whole thing. Bored rich boys placing bets to stave off boredom, not caring how their stupid bullshit affects the people around them. Don’t you care about anyone else here? Don’t you feel bad about hurting people?”
Wren weighs his response quickly. He barely has to think about the answer at all. “I care about Pax. I care about Dashiell. But not in a traditional way that most guys in high school care about each other. They’re not my bros. They’re not my homies. They’re oxygen. Daylight. Warmth. Familiarity. Shelter. Home. Safety. The other people wandering around the halls of this godforsaken shit hole? Do I care about them? No, Stillwater. I don’t. I don’t give a fuck about a single one of them, and I’m not afraid to admit it.”
I’m cold in spite of the fire. It’s as though there’s a block of ice sitting in the pit of my stomach and it will not melt. I’m weary down to my bones. I should never have left my bedroom. I’m a fool for coming all the way down here in the blowing wind and rain to sit here and listen to this. Hedidtrash my room. He’s not ashamed of who he is in the slightest. Fool that I am, I guess that I was hoping I’d discover a few redeeming qualities that Wren’s been hiding from the world, but there’s nothing to redeem here. Wren’s a barren wasteland, and I have no intention of wandering that wasteland, knowing I won’t find anything to nourish me there.
