A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(30)

And my birthday—that big bash I planned on hosting for my supposed friends? I don’t know why I’m even bothering.

I’m going to cancel it. Who would come anyway? It’s not like there will be drugs or alcohol. I’d be surprised if anyone showed.

After that depressing thought, I shove it from my mind before I allow it to completely crush me.

I’m walking down the hall, heading for my last class of the day when I hear someone from behind me clear their throat.

“Wren, hey.”

I turn to find Larsen Von Weller standing in front of me, a smile curling his lips.

He’s a senior like me. Quiet. Smart. Athletic but not a complete jerk like some of the jocks that go to this stupid school. Attractive with brown hair and brown eyes. A lean yet muscular build.

“Hi,” I say with a faint smile, wondering why he’s talking to me.

We were closer our freshman and sophomore years, when we had more classes together, and saw each other throughout the day. We sort of went on separate paths junior year because of our class choices, and now we never really speak.

“How are you?” he asks.

“I’m good.” I nod, glancing around the hall, watching people walk past us, their gazes curious when they see who I’m talking to. “How are you?”

“I can’t complain.” His smile is easy. “I heard a rumor.”

“Oh?” God, what does he know?

“Yeah. That you’re going home this weekend.” He smiles.

I frown. “Where did you hear that?”

His expression turns sheepish and he shoves his hands in his front pockets. “My mom mentioned it to me because I’m going home too. My parents invited yours over for dinner Saturday night, and your mom mentioned to mine that you would be coming.”

“Oh. Yes, I guess I am.” I didn’t realize his parents were friends with mine, but my father never turns down a friendship. He views almost everyone in his life as potential business since he’s in real estate. Someone is always looking to buy or sell something in his eyes.

“It’ll be good to catch up, don’t you think?” he asks, keeping pace with me, as I start walking.

“Definitely.” I offer him a quick smile, stopping near my classroom door. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Something to look forward to.” He flashes me a brilliant smile. “See you tomorrow, Wren.”

Larsen walks away quickly, getting swallowed up in the crowd, and I watch him go, leaning against the wall to stay out of the way of the people rushing to their last class.

“What the hell was that about?”

I turn to find Crew standing there, a glower on his face, staring in the direction Larsen just left.

“What exactly are you referring to?”

“Larsen. Why is he sniffing around you?”

I wrinkle my nose, disgusted by his chosen terminology. “It’s really none of your business.”

I stride into the classroom with Crew on my heels. “It’s my business when I know the guy is a fucking perv.”

“You two must be great friends then.” I smirk at him from over my shoulder, settling into the chair right next to his.

We’ve been merely coexisting the last couple of days, but in this moment, I’m fired up. Ready to give him a piece of my mind.

“I’m not friends with that asshole. He’s a smug prick,” Crew spits out as he sits down.

“Sounds familiar.” I drop my backpack on the floor beside me, turning to glare at him. “Stay out of it, Crew. It doesn’t concern you.”

“If he messes with your mental state, it’ll definitely concern me. We have a project to work on.”

“My mental state is precarious only because of you.” It’s pure habit when I pull out my notebook and pencil. Crew isn’t going to talk to me or give me anything. He never does. I could ask him an endless list of questions and he’d still remain mum. It’s so frustrating.

He’s frustrating. Claiming that Larsen is a pervert when they aren’t even friends. How would he know?

“He’ll make it worse,” he retorts.

“How?” I’m genuinely curious. “What could he do to me that would be so awful?”

“God, you really are that innocent, aren’t you?”

I flinch at his words. I hate that he makes me feel terrible for being a nice person. I can’t help it if I’m not completely corrupted like he is. “I’d rather be innocent than hard and jaded like you.”

Crew ignores my insult. “You really want to know what Larsen is up to?”

“Please!”

“He puts on this—sweet act for the girls. Like he wouldn’t harm a fly. Very aw shucks of him, you know? He works his wholesome act on an unsuspecting girl, and the next thing she knows, she finds herself on her knees with his dick in her mouth while he secretly records the entire transaction,” Crew explains.

I physically recoil at his words. That sounds absolutely awful. And Crew makes it sound so clinical with his use of the word ‘transaction.’

Is that all sex is to him? A transaction? An exchange of bodily fluids?

Gross.

“He records it?” I ask, my voice hushed. I don’t want anyone else to hear me say that. Too many people pay attention to me and Crew when we talk already, and I have no clue why.