Crazy Girl(36)

“For now? Is crazy girl predicting we’ll have an episode tonight?”

I glared at him, somewhat joking, though with a little heat. I should have also made fun of him for enjoying referring to me in third person. Hannah didn’t like that, I thought to myself, then thought better of it. And held back a giggle. Okay, it was funny. “The night’s still young. Who knows, right?” He enjoyed my sass, though he’d probably never outright admit it.

Looking away from me, he crossed his arms and rested them on the bar. “Glad to hear you’re so optimistic.”

I felt heat flare on my skin. It was one thing to not admit he liked my sarcasm. But he’d just made me sound like an asshole. But did I? Did I sound like an asshole? Was I being too snarky by saying something like that? I didn’t like how he’d used my one little comment to put me in my place. I hadn’t felt it was that strong of a statement. But at the same time…he did just that. Put me in my place. My pride was not happy about that. He had a point. I clinched my hands. If I was already anticipating us having some sort of disagreement…we probably would.

I refused to apologize or acknowledge what I’d said. I decided the best thing to do was try and move forward. “I think your Star Wars fetish is cute.”

“Aw, you think I’m cute,” he teased.

Honesty spilled from my lips. “You know you’re cute, Wren,” I murmured. And I wasn’t finished. “I’m sure plenty of women have told you this.” Ugh. So snarky. Why, Hannah? Why? I was face-palming myself over and over in my head. I might as well have stood up in the bar and raised my fists, shouting, “I’m jealous and insecure.”

Placing his hand on my leg, he twisted his body to face me, his expression serious. “I know I’m riddled with charm and sexual charisma, but that doesn’t mean I’m easy.” His features showed intent, but I could hear the sarcasm in his tone. He was making fun of me.

Deciding to play along rather than call him out, I shook my head as I gave him a confused look. “You’re hilarious,” I said dryly. “I’ll try to fight the urges I’m feeling.”

“Thank you. Let’s keep this night clean and rated-PG, okay?”

My gaze stayed on his. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t as good at being funny and sarcastic as him about serious matters.

The look on my face must have given me away. Leaning toward me, he put his mouth to my ear. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Hannah.” Goose bumps cascaded across my skin. Then he kissed me, chastely, before sitting up and taking a swig of his dark beer. Oh, he was good.

This man was equally infuriating and enthralling. He sounded like an asshole…to me, anyway. But in the short time I’d come to know him, I knew humor and sarcasm were how he dealt with awkward or uncomfortable situations. He picked and rubbed on sensitive spots. I was thinking and feeling a million things about this night, about him, questioning it all. But I hadn’t really said anything about it, I’d pushed it all down and ignored it. Or tried to anyway. Wren must’ve sensed it, especially after my previous comment about “the night’s still young.” Now he’d brought the elephant in my mind to the forefront and addressed it. He was calling me out on thinking that he was playing me and all he wanted was sex.

I’d insulted him.

And I did have my doubts. However cynical and insecure that made me, I did. But I also knew I liked him and respected him. And I really wanted him to respect me…to see me…the real me. Not this broken woman I had become.

“Wren,” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough to get his attention. When his gaze met mine, my throat tightened as I struggled to speak the words on the tip of my tongue. “I’m sorry. I’ve kind of become this person that expects the worst and hopes for the best.” I shook my head. “I don’t mean to be…bitchy.”

Blinking a few times, he bobbed his head once and, evidently, decided to move on. “What do you think of this place?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

It took me a moment to catch up. “It’s really nice,” I managed after a beat, before gulping down almost half my drink, praying the alcohol would numb my embarrassment.

“I’d hoped you’d like it. I don’t know why, I just really thought you would for some reason.”

I smiled, pushing back my moment of chagrin. I liked that he thought about me and what I would like. It wasn’t that I was completely fixated on finding all the wrong or suspicious things about him…it was more that I didn’t want to get so caught up in the sweetness of Wren that I was blinded.

The pub had a certain feeling of nostalgia that enraptured me. A small band played in the back corner, adding to the atmosphere. I was smitten with the place, and my mind ran over every detail knowing it would make its way into a book of mine one day. Even though Wren and I didn’t have much conversation after that, I still enjoyed being there. The dinner rush came in shortly after us and Wren became flanked with people wanting to talk about everything from his job, to politics, to war. Occasionally he’d reach around and grab my leg, squeezing it, letting me know he hadn’t forgotten about me but didn’t want to be rude to his friends either. But I didn’t mind a bit. I actually enjoyed listening to him speak with others, hearing his thoughts and views. I learned quite a bit about the man I was “dating.” One of the biggest things I learned was he was admired…no doubt. People were eager to talk with him and engage. I’d dare say there almost seemed to be a line; one person would break away after speaking with him, and then another would appear in their place almost instantaneously.