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WREN
I would not cry.
He wasn’t worth the tears.
I couldn’t believe I fell for that smirk. Those dimples.
He was a complete bastard, and I hated him. I wanted him gone. Out of my house. Along with her.
I’d heard some hurtful things in the past. Kind of came with the territory when you refused to conform to society’s idea of perfection, but that was a low blow even for him.
I slammed the door to the pool house behind me, made sure it was locked and went to pull my phone out of my pocket to call Eva, before realizing that I’d stupidly left it in Tate’s stupid, sexy, strong hands.
Groaning to myself, I trudged over to the bar and poured a glass of wine. If I couldn’t speak to Eva, then I could at least drown my sorrows in bitter wine, because there was no way I was going back into that house to ask Tate for my phone.
Half a bottle of wine later, there was a knock on the glass front door. I refused to turn around, because I didn’t want to see Tate. If it was going to take him that long to come up with a weak, halfhearted apology then he could go and step on a lego for all I cared.
The tapping on the window continued, and I poured myself more wine.
“Open the damn door, Wren. I’ll smash it if I have to and that will totally ruin my new gold-flecked manicure. And then you’ll be sorry,” Eva’s voice called from the other side of the door.
I stood up and faced her just as she raised Mr. Ruffles above her—the concrete frog in a bow tie, top hat and cigar that sat by my door—and was about to smash the window.
“Stop!” I yelled and rushed over to unlock the door. “Are you crazy?”
She shrugged, kissed Mr. Ruffles on the top hat and placed him carefully back on the patio. “It worked, didn’t it?” She brushed past me, grabbing my wine glass out of my hand as she did and continued down the hall to my bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I followed her reluctantly, more because she had my wine than anything else.
“We’re going out!” she announced from inside my closet where she rummaged through my clothes in search of an outfit.
“No, we’re not.” I hated going out on a good day. And I was so not in the mood to party tonight. I picked up the wine from the dresser where she left it and took a gulp.
“Yeah, we are. The girls are waiting. There’s a new club opening tonight in town and you’re coming, whether you want to or not.”
“I’m not really in...” But she held up her hand to stop me and pulled a black dress off the hanger.
“I know, but he’s sorry, and I believe him. So, I’m taking you out to clear your head.” Eva gave me the dress. “Put this on.”
“He’s sorry?” How did she know he’s sorry? How did she even know what happened?
“Yes. Look.” Digging through her bag, she groaned. “Where is it?”
“What?” I ran my fingers over the silky black fabric of the dress she’d chosen. Maybe I could go out for a night. I didn’t do it very often and it had been ages since I’d seen Emerson and Blake, so maybe a girl’s night out was just what I needed to get my focus back on things other than Tate’s abs.
Eva emptied the contents of her bag onto my bed. “Ah-ha! I knew it was in here somewhere.” She threw something thin and silver at me, and I barely caught it.
My phone.
“How did you get this?” I frowned.
She scooped all her junk back into her bag. “From Tate.”
I folded my arms across my chest and waited for her explanation.
“I called you to see if you wanted to come out tonight, and imagine my surprise when Tate answered.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
Eva stood and spun me around, pushing me toward the bathroom to change. She shoved me through the door and closed it. “Not at first. All he said was to get over here quick. When I pulled into the drive, he was pacing up and down. Told me what happened and said it was a big misunderstanding and that he was sorry.”
I shimmied out of my shorts and scoffed, “Yeah, sorry he got caught more like.”
“I don’t know, Wren. He seemed pretty cut up about it.”
“I don’t care anymore. He’s a tenant. He helps me pay the bills. Keeps my pizza schedule, that’s it.” I pulled the dress over my head and walked out of the bathroom. “Let’s go.”
“Umm...”
I slid a pair of black heels on and picked up my clutch, dumping my phone, I.D and credit card inside, and turned to face Eva.
“Babe, you can’t go out like that.” She waved in my general direction.
“What?”
“Paint on your cheek. And what is this? What’s going on here?” She pulled on my bun and screwed her face up. Bringing her hand away from my head, she had a piece of spaghetti pinched between her fingers. It came from my hair. “You need to shower first.”
I rolled my eyes. “I better get a pizza out of this, I swear.” I stomped back into the bathroom, and called over my shoulder, “Bring me more wine.”
She was right. I looked in the mirror and cringed. I was a mess and there was more than one piece of spaghetti in my hair. I thought back to the last time I ate pasta or washed my hair. It was too long ago to remember, four or five days ago, maybe. For both. I mean, I showered every day, I just didn’t wash my hair more than once a week. If I did, it dried out and became super frizzy.
“Don’t forget to shave your legs,” Eva said as she slid the shower door open enough to slip a wine glass through.
“So bossy,” I grumbled and took the glass from her. I sipped the cool, bitter liquid and carefully placed the glass on the wine holder I specifically installed in the shower so I could wash out the soap in my hair.
After I finished showering and getting dressed again, Eva was standing in my room with the blow dryer, a can of hair spray, anti-frizz serum and a whole bunch of other products I never used.
And...
“Where is it?” I asked, inhaling deeply and sighing.
“Sit first. If you’re a good girl, then you’ll get a reward.”
“I’m not a dog. Where’s the damn pizza?” I demanded as I sat down.
“One slice, because you showered.” Eva walked away and returned a second later with a slice of cheese pizza for me.
I took a huge bite and argued with her. “I shower.”
“Just shut up and eat. If you don’t complain about your hair, you’ll get another slice.”
So, I sat quietly and let Eva do whatever she wished to, and she fed me pizza as a reward. By the time we were ready to leave, I was full and well on my way to tipsy.
Blake called Eva to say she was out the front and waiting for us. With one last look in the mirror, I smiled to myself and followed Eva down the side of the house quietly to avoid drawing unwanted attention from Tate. My hair hung in long waves, my cheeks were rosy, partly from the wine, and the dress Eva had chosen was killer. My boobs looked awesome, my waist accentuated, and my legs looked longer than they ever had before.
I had to admit that when I made an effort, or rather, when Eva forced me to make an effort, I felt beautiful, and he was the last person I wanted to see. Tonight, I was dressed to kill, and I wasn’t going to let his sexy face ruin my wine buzz or my night.
I didn’t know what it was about the man, but before I met him, nothing used to bother me. I was confident and comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t give a hoot what people thought of me. But then Tate walked into my life with Malibu Barbie on his arm and suddenly I was brought to my knees on the verge of tears after nearly every interaction.
No more.
I wasn’t putting up with their narcissism. Their taunts. Or their cruelty.
I was Wren Keller.
Miss Independent.
Artist.
Wealthy.
Real.
I wasn’t plastic.
And tonight, I was going to have fun. Hang out with my friends. Tomorrow I was getting out there and chasing my dreams.