My fingers are so cold they ache and feel stiff when I reach in my pocket for my phone. It’s hard to dial, but I finally manage to click through my contacts and find Isaiah. It rings several times before his groggy voice comes through the line. I cringe. He’s asleep.
“It’s me,” I say.
“Wren?” he asks. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No,” I tell him. “I just need to talk to you.”
“Right now?” he asks.
It sounds like he’s already halfway back into whatever dream I yanked him out of. But this can’t wait. I’ve already been this outlandish. I’ve already come this far.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
The words come through a groan that tells me he’s reluctantly pulling himself up into a sitting position, so the pillow doesn’t swallow him up again. But that’s not good enough. If this is going to have any effect, I need to be face to face. I need to be able to touch him.
“I need you to come outside,” I say.
“What?”
He snaps the response so loudly I’m sure he just woke up at least the two brothers whose room is on the opposite side of his. There’s a long, tense pause before either of us say anything.
“I’m right outside the back door,” I tell him. “I really need to see you. Is there a way I can get up into your room?”
The words feel awkward and ridiculous, even as they’re forming in my mouth. This isn’t me. I don’t know what I’m doing. The feeling is mutual.
“You can’t come up here,” he says. “Just... just wait. I’ll be down there in a minute.”
I hang up, wondering if it’s too late to just run back home, stuff myself under every blanket I own and prepare to convince Isaiah it was all a dream. But it is. It was too late the second I called down to my mother and told her I was going to bed so I could get up for another early shift at the animal shelter. It was too late when I tossed myself off the porch with no concept of how I was going to land. It was too late when I felt the cold and didn’t turn back.
The back door opens slowly, and as soon as there is enough room for him to squeeze through, Isaiah steps out onto the small back stoop. I rush over to him, and his eyes search me.
“What’s going on, Wren? What are you doing out here?” he asks.
There’s more intensity in his voice than I’m used to hearing, and I’m temporarily stunned. Then I remember why I came and step up closer to him.
“Why didn’t you want me in your room?” I ask.
He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me. “What is going on with you?”
“Why didn’t you want me to come up to your room?” I ask again.
“Come on, Wren. You know why. Just a few more years. We’ll get through college, and we’ll get married.”
“And then what?” I ask, knowing I’m prodding him, but not pulling back.
I step up even closer. I’m on the porch with him now, only a few inches between us. But he hasn’t made any move to come closer.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“We’ll get through college, and we’ll get married… and then what? I want to hear you say it.”
I’ve dropped my voice lower, trying to find the sound that came from my throat when Talon spoke to me. I’m waiting for the shiver, for the tremble that started deep in my belly and moved through me when all he did was breathe. He never said the words, but I knew what Talon was talking about. Now I need to hear those words. I need Isaiah to give me that feeling.
“Wren, is something wrong? This isn’t like you,” he frowns.
He’s backed up a step, but I take a step closer.
“Don’t you want to be close to me?” I ask.
“Of course I do.”
“Then why don’t you? Kiss me.”
He hesitates, then leans down and touches a chaste kiss to my lips. “There. Feel better?”
“Really kiss me, Isaiah.”
His mouth lowers down to mine and presses against it, our lips parting to gingerly touch the tips of our tongues together. One hand comes to my hip, but just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away.
“Go home, Wren. What would people think if they knew you were here this late? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He slips back inside, and I step down off the porch. I’ve made it around the side of the house when Talon’s dark form steps out in front of me. I gasp but manage to hold back a scream.
“What are you doing?” I hiss under my breath.
“I can tell you what people would think,” he shrugs.
“You were watching us?”
“You shouldn’t be out here in the dark and cold. Especially like that,” he says.
“I don’t need you to worry about me.”
I push past him and start back toward my house, tears stinging in my eyes. But I don’t know why they’re there. I don’t know what they mean.
“Did you find out what you needed?” Talon calls after me. I keep going, but he pulls me by the sleeve to stop me. “Wait. Here. Put these on.”
He peels off his gloves and slips them over my hands. The new warmth aches, but the ache is worse in the center of my chest. We walk for a few more yards before I can’t take it anymore. I stop and whip around to face him.
“Why did you have to do this? I don’t understand. The way you talk to me, then what you did to Andrea, and now this. What about Samantha?”
“What about Isaiah? You went to see if he could make you feel the way I do, didn’t you? What did you find out?”
“He loves me,” I spit at him. “He’s been good to me for five years.”
“He’s been good to you? What does that mean?” Talon’s voice is commanding, but low. “He drives you home from school and has lunch with you on Sundays?”
“We have a future together.”
“Is that the future you want? One without passion? One where you won’t ever be touched the way you need to be.”
“You need to stop. I don’t know why you’re doing this or what you get out of it, but it’s done. Please, just stay away from me.” I take off his gloves and hand them back to him. “Please.”
12
Wren
Isaiah is standing by the flagpole outside the school when I walk up Monday morning. I honestly didn’t know if he was going to be here. He offers me a smile, but I can’t exactly tell what emotion is behind it. Usually we have a few minutes together standing under the flag before we have to go inside to go to class. But this morning, I’m running late, and I’ve only just gotten to him when the bell rings to let us know there are four minutes before we have to be sitting in our first period classes.
He takes my hand, and we walk silently into the school. Like he does every morning, he walks me to my trigonometry classroom and kisses me on the cheek before I go inside. My heart’s heavy when I walk through the door, and my jaw sets when I see Talon sitting in his spot, staring expectantly at the door.
He smirks at me. I know he saw Isaiah outside the classroom, and anyone who looks at us can tell there’s something going on. The smug look on his face is about all I can take. Refusing to acknowledge him or even change my expression, I walk past him and go to my desk. Angela motions to me from across the narrow aisle between the rows of seats.