A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(79)

Now, all I want is information about Crew. Where he is. If he’s all right. What in the world he was doing with Natalie.

“I know he was caught with Natalie last night,” I admit, taking a step closer, so I can speak to him more privately. “Where is he?”

“He’s got a meeting with Matthews,” Malcolm answers, referring to the headmaster of the school. “Right at eight o’clock. He wanted me to tell you.”

“Oh.” Hope rises within me, but I tamp it down. I can’t read into this too much. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Malcolm sends a quick look in Ezra’s direction before he returns his attention to me. He holds out a folded yellow Post-It Note between his fingers. “This is his phone number. Don’t know what the two of you are doing if you’re not texting or Snapchatting with each other on the phone like normal fucking teenagers, but he wanted you to have it.”

“Thank you.” I clutch the piece of paper in my hand, the edges biting into my palm. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Don’t know,” Ezra says, earning a dirty look from Malcolm for his oh-so-reassuring contribution. “Might get suspended. Fucker deserves it.”

“He’s a Lancaster,” Malcolm adds, ignoring Ezra. “He’ll be fine.”

I see the hostility filling Ezra’s gaze and I remember how he was always flirting with Natalie. The almost desperate edge to it, and how she ignored him.

How she was always staring at Crew instead.

“Thank you again,” I tell Malcolm because I’m polite to the point of being annoying and I can’t help myself. He nods. Ezra sneers.

I leave them where they stand, entering the building and immediately leaning against the wall, opening the Post-It Note to study Crew’s phone number.

He also wrote something else.

Text me when you can, Birdy. I need to talk to you.

My heart flutters in my chest and I grab my phone, punching in the number, and immediately send him a text.

Me: It’s Wren. Text me back when you can talk.

I wait for a few minutes, leaning against the wall, watching everyone walk past me, headed to class. They’re all talking among themselves, whispering and gossiping. Laughing and reveling in the downfall of Natalie and Crew.

It makes me sad. Worse, it makes me angry, because they don’t know what actually happened. They’re all assuming Crew and Natalie were together last night, and I know that’s not the case.

He wouldn’t just drop me off and pick up Natalie, would he?

No. No way.

Not after everything we just shared.

I walk into English class in a daze, my head bent, not paying attention to what’s happening. I fall into my desk chair, hating that the desk behind me is empty, that Crew is nowhere to be found. I glance around the room, my gaze snagging on Figueroa’s. He’s already watching me, and I realize as I look around the classroom, once again, that Maggie isn’t here.

Without thought, I rise to my feet and approach his desk, noting the pleasant smile on his face, the way his eyes flicker with interest when they land on me.

I wish I had the courage to slap his face and call him out for his bad behavior. He’s getting careless.

“Wren. How can I help you this morning?” His tone is light, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I was with Maggie not even an hour ago. Upset, pregnant-with-his-baby Maggie, who left my room to come talk to him, and here he sits, not traumatized in the least, while she’s not even here.

What happened with their conversation? Did he blow her off?

“Where’s Maggie?” I ask him, my tone flat. Unfriendly.

Totally unlike me.

He frowns, sensing my hostility. “I don’t know. She hasn’t shown up to class yet. The bell hasn’t rung—”

It does exactly that, silencing our conversation.

“She has three more minutes,” he says once the bell shuts off. “She should be here any second.”

“But I know she came straight here from the dorm to speak with you,” I say, wanting him to understand that I know everything.

Something flickers in his expression but he smooths it out. Like a blank canvas. “No, she didn’t.”

“She told me she was going to.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“She was upset because you didn’t meet with her last night.”

The irritation is full-blown blazing in his dark eyes now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I do. You were supposed to meet with her last evening, and you cancelled. She wanted to talk to you about the ba—”

“Stop. Shut up.” His voice is fierce, his eyes almost black. “Stay out of it, Wren.”

I stare at him, startled he would speak so harshly to me. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

He’s lying.

“Did she leave? Should I go find her? Make sure she’s okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” he snaps. “Go sit down.”

It’s like I don’t even care anymore. I’ve tossed all niceties aside, just as he has. I need him to know that I know…everything.

“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to her,” I tell him, my voice even. My emotions completely under control. “You need to do what’s right and take care of her.”