2. WYATT

2

WYATT

"You got any plans tonight?" Koa asks me and Hart as we walk through the parking lot after our practice.

They have been brutal lately with our first game around the corner. I spend more time soaking in an ice bath or wrapping my shoulder than I do anything else these days. We aren't playing around anymore. Not that coach let us dick around to begin with in the off season.

"I have a few errands to run," I vaguely answer his question. I don't need them in my business. Not about this.

"Lauren and I are going to watch a movie," Hart says smiling.

Watching a movie my ass.

"Which one?" I ask to fuck with him. It's nice to see my friend so happy. He never smiled like this until he got with his girlfriend Lauren.

"Which what?"

"Which movie?" I say slowly.

"I don't fucking know. Does it matter?"

"It does if you actually plan on watching it. You don't want to get stuck watching something without any action," Koa says.

"There will definitely be action." Hart's eyes darken to the point they're almost black.

I roll my lips to keep from smiling. They ain't watching no movie.

"You have fun. We'll see you tomorrow," Koa says.

Hart gives a final salute goodbye before walking off to his car. I need to get going too. She's only going to be at the campus bookstore for another twenty minutes.

"I'll see you later, man." I put a fist out to bump with Koa.

Koa eyes me with suspicion, before nodding and getting in his car. I know I've been acting weird the last few weeks. I'm surprised they haven't scheduled an intervention over my behavior. Normally the fuckers are more nosy than this. My only saving grace is the two of them being wrapped up with their girls. Not that Koa would admit to anyone being his girl.

It hasn't been easy balancing classes, practice, workouts, games, and following Wren around campus like a private investigator.

Wren Ellington. She isn't like other girls. She's worse .

I realize I'm not her favorite person. The feeling is mutual. All I needed her to do was invite me over to their dorm and let me do my thing. I would have had Charlie eating out of the palm of my hand in no time.

If I didn't need Wren's help, I wouldn't have asked. She is my last resort. I've been trying to get Charlie's attention since the night she sang herself into my brain.

I've seen her a few times around campus last semester, but she's managed to dodge me at every turn. I thought maybe going home for winter break would erase her voice from my memory but it only made it worse. It was a daily reminder that I'm not happy with the course my life is taking.

After several failed attempts of catching Charlie leaving her dorm, I thought I would have better luck getting close to Charlie through Wren. Had I realized Wren was so hard-nosed, I would have thought of an alternative option.

I still could.

I probably should.

Then I remember the look on Wren's face when I pushed all of her pencils out of order. She was mad enough to spit nails and it made me smile. And not the fake one I put on for everyone.

I know someone else's misery shouldn't bring me joy. But it did. Seeing her ball her hands into fists and huff out breaths of frustration thrilled me. That's a feeling stress, worry, and fear have stolen from me the past few years. So excuse me for not wanting to let it go yet.

I am however ready to get Charlie's voice out of my head. I need it gone. Not only is it a constant reminder of my misery, it's also affecting my headspace when I'm pitching. I can't lose focus because getting drafted is important to me. It's crucial. My family is depending on it .

If I don't get this girl out of my system, my game is going to suffer and everything I've been working to achieve, to save , will be lost.

That's the only reason I'm here at the campus bookstore on a Friday night instead of at home in bed or out at The Armory with my boys.

After a couple weeks of surveillance, I've learned Wren has habits. Lots of them . She has been much easier to keep tabs on than Charlie. One of her routines is restocking her weekly supply of sticky notes at four thirty every Friday at the campus bookstore. She walks each aisle systematically while checking items off her list.

If I've timed her correctly, I should find her picking out a new highlighter right about now.

I nod to a few classmates as I walk by them.

Wren's head of dark brown hair comes into view. She has it slicked back in a low ponytail. Not a hair out of place with this one. Her shirt is another daring shade of beige. At least it's buttoned up to her neck and covers her chest.

Don't need a repeat of what happened at the library. No siree. She got me. I fell for the little devil's trickery. She set the trap and I got caught looking. I may have been wrong about not missing much. Not that I would ever admit that to her.

Walking by a table display of Newhouse gear, I snag a lanyard and a keychain. I need to make this little run-in with her believable. We're just two people who happen to be shopping at the same store at the same time .

Should I whistle or would that be overkill? No whistling. Definitely too much.

She has a shopping basket of various supplies, snacks, and are my eyes deceiving me or is that a box of condoms? Well, well isn't that something? Condoms are the last thing I expected her to be needing a refill of. I can't picture her as the type of girl to be sleeping with random guys around campus.

Why am I even thinking about her like this? I shiver and shake the thoughts from my head.

Casually I walk closer, pretending to scan the shelves for what I'm looking for as I go.

"I can hear you breathing," Wren says without taking her eyes off the two packs of markers she's holding in her hands.

"You can not."

"I can." She drops one pack of markers in her basket and puts the other back on the hook. Then picks up a red marker set and begins examining it. "Did you need something?"

Yes, I do. I need you to prove to me you're not the heartless Tin Man and help me out.

Telling her she doesn't have a heart is probably not the best way to get her assistance. I'll need to convince her it's good for Charlie, that I'll be good for Charlie. Because I plan on being real good to her.

Some might say better than good actually. Not to toot my own horn, but toot fucking toot.

Or maybe we can come up with an exchange. I'm not discouraged by my last attempt at bartering. There has to be something she needs even if she doesn't realize it yet .

If all else fails, I'll annoy her until she has no choice but to do what I ask so I'll leave her alone. My sister Willow has said it's one of my most endearing qualities. Or maybe she said enduring?

"Is this one any good?" I ask, grabbing a random highlighter off the wall. It's neon green. Maybe getting her to talk about one of her favorite things will warm her up a little.

She turns her head slightly in my direction. I'm momentarily stunned by the smell of wildflowers floating in the air. It reminds me of home and playing in the fields of flowers we had growing when I was a kid.

"What are you doing with it?"

"Highlighting stuff?" I answer but it comes across more like a question.

She expels an exasperated breath and grumbles quietly to herself. She better buck up. I'm just getting started with her. I'm about to become the best friend she never asked for.

"If you need to memorize text, use yellow. If you are simply highlighting stuff ," she twists her tone to mock mine, "then green will be sufficient."

"Golly. Thank ya kindly, ma'am." I lay the accent on thick to irritate her further.

She rolls her eyes behind her oversized glasses, tosses the red markers in her basket, and moves on to the next aisle.

I've deduced that paper products are her second favorite purchase—ranking just behind new pens .

What will it be this week? I wonder as I tail her. New notebook? Printer paper? Large sticky notes? Small ones? Oooh maybe another set with the cute little hedgehogs on them?

Why do I find her behavior so intriguing? That is a question to dissect another day.

Wren stops short, causing me to slam into her back. I grasp at her waist to keep her from falling on her face. I might not like the girl, but I'm not an asshole.

My fingertips sink into the slinky fabric of her pants. As usual Wren is dressed to command a boardroom rather than sit through a college lecture. She straightens her body and ends up flush against mine with her head tucked neatly under my chin.

I have to tilt my head toward the ceiling to keep from inhaling her sweet scent. Damn she smells good. Is it her perfume or her body wash? Because if her whole body smells like this…no. If her body smells like this, it doesn't matter. It's Wren for Pete's sake.

"Do you mind?" She looks up at me. If she were anyone else, I might be tempted to kiss her. She's that close.

I glance at her lips. Not bad. Pink and plush. Perfect little cupid's bow. I'm sure she could find someone who could stomach a few minutes of tonsil hockey with her. Ain't gonna be me.

Her hands cover mine on her hips. I grip her tighter. Not sure why. Instinct? Habit? My hands seem to be functioning as a separate entity from my body .

"Will you stop manhandling me?" She squirms attempting to break my hold.

"I'm not. I was helping you. Next time I'll let you kiss the linoleum."

"I wouldn't need your help if you would watch where you're going. You're like a bull in a china shop." She pulls hard on my hands and breaks free, then turns to face me. Somehow our fingers get twisted together. She raises our hands, shaking herself loose with a huff.

Stepping closer, I get in her face. "I wouldn't have rear-ended you if you didn't break for sticky notes." I wave a hand in front of the rows of neon and pastel squares.

She lifts her chin and glares at me. "Why are you even here? Don't you have something better to do?" I would have someone better to do if she would be a decent human being and help me out.

"Don't you? It's Friday night. Let me guess. After your wild shopping spree, you are going to go home and cuddle with your cats."

"We can't have pets in the dorm." Her deadpan delivery almost makes me grin.

"I was joking. You probably have at least another twenty years before cats are your only companions."

Her face turns a nice shade of red. Is it beet or tomato? I tilt my head, studying the way her cheeks and neck are changing colors.

"Why are you staring at me like that? "

I tilt my head from side to side. "I'm trying to figure something out. Give me a minute will ya?"

Her ears are kind of purple. Probably more of a beet red when she's angry and a tomato when she's embarrassed.

"Are you finished gawking yet?" Damn, she's fun to rile up.

"I reckon." Where were we? Ah, her impending cat collection. I glance at her full shopping basket. "Maybe," I point a finger at the box of condoms sitting on top, "you have a hot date later. Do you have a boyfriend, Wren?"

"No boyfriend. No date. I'm making balloon animals," she says without cracking a smile. She can't be serious, but that actually makes more sense.

"Is it a side gig or something? Do you moonlight as a clown at kid's birthday parties? I'm not a fan of clowns. They give me the creeps." I shiver at the thought of being face to face with a crazed clown.

Wren stares at me. Her eyes wide, mouth pinched tight. Is she trying to decide where to punch me or figure out if I'm playing with her?

"Is it really more logical to you that I would spend my weekends as a clown instead of being able to find a man to sleep with me?"

I shrug. "It doesn't sound illogical ."

She winces as if she's in pain before quickly recovering, ready to rip me a new one. "Just because you don't find me worthy of having intercourse with doesn't mean other men feel the same. You're not exactly everyone's type either."

"What are you talking about? I am most definitely everyone's type," I say smugly.

"Your dick is everyone's type. Trust me. You are not." Wren speaks this revelation like it's the Gospel truth, then goes back to her shopping.

I do have a nice cock, but I'm insulted she thinks people don't actually like me for my personality. "At least I know how to have fun."

"It's called having priorities, goals, being an adult. You should try it sometime."

Trailing closer to Wren, I stop behind her and crowd her back. "You think you know me? You have no idea the kind of responsibilities I have to deal with," I say through gritted teeth.

No one knows the pressure I have weighing me down every day. The fact I've let my guard slip in front of her should bother me. The girl makes me irrational. I say things to her without thinking. My brain short circuits disabling my filter.

She looks at me like she knows me. Like she already has me figured out. She doesn't know shit about my life. She's too blind living off her daddy's coffers to see how the other half truly lives.

"You're right. I don't know what your life is like." Wren faces me. Her eyes shine with pity. "I'm sorry if I offended you." Fuck that.

"You didn't." I brush off her apology.

She relaxes, accepting my lie. I'm grateful she doesn't push the topic further. I will never admit her words touched a tender spot. It isn't the first time and I doubt it will be the last. If I plan on going toe to toe with her, it seems I will have to come dressed in full armor.

"If you say so. Now that we've established that you are a full fledged responsible adult and I know how to have fun, can you leave me alone?"

"No. Sorry, can't do that. See the thing is, I'm not convinced you know how to laugh and let go. Because this," I swirl my finger around the store, "is not what I call a good time."

"And what do you suggest one does to have a good time?"

I start to open my mouth to answer but Wren holds up her hand. "Not that. I've got my sexual needs covered."

"Good because I wasn't offering."

"How will I ever survive," she replies sarcastically.

"You're funny."

"I'm what?" she questions. I see the direction her brain is heading. Time to derail that runaway train of thought.

"Being funny on occasion is not the same as having fun. You wouldn't know what fun is if it was standing right in front of you," I goad her.

"That may be true. Do you know what else is a fact?" she asks.

I shake my head.

"I don't care." She begins to walk away but I stop her with a hand on her forearm.

"Now hold on a minute. You mean to tell me you don't itch to let your hair down?" I tug gently on her ponytail. "Have a night out when you aren't buttoned up to your neck? Forget about all those responsibilities you have? Have you ever let loose?" My eyes trail down her body. "Nah, I bet you're a good girl. Aren't you, Wren?"

"Nice monologue. I still don't care." Oh, but she does. She holds her head high, but her eyes shine with curiosity. Somewhere inside of her is a woman who wants to break free from the self-made mold she's created for herself.

"Set me up with Charlie and I'll give you a few months of fun."

Her face wrinkles in disgust.

"That didn't come out right. Just say yes. What do you have to lose?"

"Besides my reputation?"

I huff a laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but you ain't got much of one to begin with."

"It's irrelevant. What part of I don't care do you not understand?"

"The part that doesn't believe a word you're saying. I see it in those blue eyes of yours. You're scared of what's next. Of being tied down before you ever taste true freedom. Tell me I'm wrong and I'll walk away."

"No need. I'll walk away for the both of us."

"Just answer one question."

"And you'll leave me alone?" she asks.

"Indefinitely." I nod.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"What are you doing after graduation?" The answer should be simple. Especially for Wren. She plans everything ahead of time. She probably already knows what pair of underwear she is wearing next Tuesday. Stop thinking about Wren's panties.

She swallows hard. Her fingers tap against the handle of her shopping basket. Should I tell her there isn't any way she could convince me her future will be wild and crazy?

"If you must know, I'll be working for my father." Wren gives me her back to look at a pack of sticky notes. She mumbles something inaudible.

"What was that?" I take a step closer.

She side eyes me. "Then I'm getting married," she says, with a sigh.

I choke on air. "You're what? I'm sorry. I thought you said you were getting married."

"I did."

"Holy shit. So you are using the condoms for sex," I muse over the thought.

"I was always using the condoms for sex," she chastises me, slapping my bicep.

"Who's the lucky guy? Is he a student here?"

"No, he lives in Georgia like me."

"Hold up. I'm confused."

"I'm sure you are. The details aren't important. At least not to you. I answered your question. I'll be working and getting married. You know, grown up things." There she goes taking another stab at me.

"Which is why you need to have fun now. Live a little before your life is over."

"Getting married doesn't mean your life is over," she says, walking toward the checkout.

"Sure it doesn't. I mean if you love the guy. You do love the guy, right?"

"I don't see how this is relevant." She fishes around in her shopping basket and appears to be mentally checking off her shopping list, or at least pretending to.

I do a double take. "The two of you aren't in love and you're going to marry him?"

"He could learn to love me at some point." I'm not her number one fan either, but I don't like how she said that he could learn to love her. Not that she could learn to love him. No one should settle for that . "I've only met him a few times. We didn't get a chance to talk much."

"And you think he'll start to fall for you once you talk more?" I ask, attempting to hold back a laugh.

Wren snaps her head in my direction throwing a glare like a ninja star.

"I'm just saying your bedside manner needs a little work. Is there a good reason why you would agree to marry this guy without knowing him?"

"Yes." Her answer is definitive and concise, which I'm learning is on brand for Wren.

"Well thank fuck for that," I tease her. "All the more reason to kick up your boots until you're tied down with some guy you don't even know."

"Even if I did agree with you, Charlie has a three date rule. If I set you up with her, she' s not going to sleep with you until you've taken her out a few times. Real dates where you pick her up and take her to a nice restaurant."

"I told you I don't date."

"I know. Pick another girl. Charlie isn't the one." But she is. I've tried hitting on other girls when I'm out at a party or The Armory, but that voice. It creeps into my thoughts and I can't even bring myself to kiss another girl. It's starting to piss me off.

"You need me—" I begin to say.

"I certainly do not need you." The firm set in Wren's jaw and the way her eyebrows bunch together is fucking adorable.

"Think whatever you want but deep down you know I'm right. You do the same things every week. You run your life by schedules and checklists."

"There is nothing wrong with being organized and prepared." She gestures toward her weekly rations.

"Meet me at The Armory this weekend. Bring Charlie." I give her a pointed look. "I will buy Charlie some hot wings and check date one off the list. Look at me speaking your language." I wink at her. "Then I'll give you your first lesson in the fine art of letting loose."

Wren stares down at the floor. You can practically hear her making a mental pros and cons list in her head.

"Fine," she agrees. "I'll get Charlie to go to The Armory."

"Thank you." Fucking finally .

She steps into my personal space and places a warm palm on my chest. My skin buzzes through my T-shirt where she's touching me. Her gaze is trained on her manicured fingernails. I wonder if she feels it too.

"I'll play your little game. You can teach me all about letting my hair down since I have so much to learn." She pats my chest twice before dropping her hand.

"Your sarcasm is moving. What's your phone number?" I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket.

"That hardly seems necessary."

"I need to be able to contact you and make plans. It's necessary."

With a roll of her eyes, she reluctantly gives me her number and I program it into my phone.

"I'll be in touch."

"Can't wait." Wren grimaces.

Me either. A few more days and I can get Charlie out of my system and put an end to this game I keep playing with Wren.