TWENTY‑SEVEN

WREN

“WREN, NEVER WOULD HAVE PEGGED YOU AS THE Caswell to leave the biggest mark on the Camelot,” my brother, Josh, said, raising his glass to the table.

Brooke, Pete, and Eben applauded. I resisted the urge to look down, instead sticking my chin out and bowing slightly. Once word had gotten out that the Camelot was closing, the intimate Christmas party my mother had planned for the staff turned into a good‑bye party that filled half the Lancelot ballroom with current and former employees.

My parents had even pardoned my sentence for the evening, and both Mads and Jazz were set to arrive at any minute. The mood in the room was festive, but there was one staff member noticeably missing. At least to me. It had only been a week, and I still hadn’t spoken to Grayson about anything that had happened. I’d been anxious to hear his version of the night.

“Yes, the story of ‘How I Took Down the Love Shack’ . . . Wouldn’t that be a stellar college essay?” I said, raising my ginger ale. It felt weird to joke about the love shack in front of everyone. Being the center of attention was still a position I wasn’t comfortable with, especially when it was for something that was semiscandalous.

“That would be a page‑turner. Give the admissions people a little thrill for a change,” Josh said.

“Please don’t turn her into the female version of you. She’s Hoya material,” Brooke said, giving my hand a squeeze.

“Ha. Hoya material. I have a feeling I’d be majoring in babysitting if I went to Georgetown,” I answered, patting Brooke’s small but newly rounded belly. “We’ll see.”

“Love shack? Why haven’t I heard about this before?” Pete asked. Brooke waved him off.

“Just a nickname for the cottage. I have no clue how it got that name.”

“Brooke, darling, didn’t you coin that phrase?” Eben asked, tipping his Corona to her.

“Reeeally . . .” Pete said.

“Nope, I think it goes back much farther than that,” I said, remembering my parents and the way they’d acted at the kitchen table the night of the love shack incident. I shivered and took a sip of my ginger ale while the others looked at me expectantly.

Eben beamed. “Ooh, do tell, Miss Wren.”

“Nope. I’m a vault.”

“See, it’s the quiet ones who know all the good secrets,” Josh said.

“Oh. Look. Saved by the text,” I said, waving my phone.

We’re here!! Meet us in the lobby!! xoxoM&J

I raced across the parquet dance floor in my riding boots, nearly knocking into Mom and Dad, who were slow dancing near the edge of the dance floor. The prospect of actually hanging out with Jazz and Mads made me giddy. My parents had all but banished me to the highest tower in the kingdom, and my week had consisted of going to school, coming home, and–well, that was basically it. I was fiending for some fun with my girls.

“Hey, why didn’t you just come in?” I asked, rushing into the lobby to meet them.

“Oh, you know, we wanted to make a grand entrance with the lady of scandal,” Mads said, taking off her coat. She was rocking her red minidress and ankle boots. Jazz wore a black mini too, with a pair of sparkly heels. Neither of them needed me for a grand entrance.

“You guys look awesome,” I said, taking their coats.

Maddie smoothed down her skirt. “I was promised some hot college guys to flirt with, so I hope this party delivers.”

Jazz was silent, standing there with a goofy grin on her face.

“What?”

“We brought you an early Christmas present,” she said, motioning behind me.

I pivoted around. In the corner, standing near Sir Gus, was Grayson.

He was wearing the blazer from that first day in the park with a gray CBGB tee underneath, and a seductive smile that made every nerve in my body crackle to attention. My heart swelled standing there; all I wanted to do was tackle him, but I wasn’t even sure he was supposed to be at the party. The coats dropped to the floor. A grin I could hardly contain broke across my face as we drifted toward each other. Grayson caught me, and we spun, my feet barely touching the ground. I clung to him, burying my face in his neck and inhaling the earthy scent of his hair.

“You feel sooooooooo good,” he whispered in my ear. His grip loosened as his hands wandered the length of my body. Maddie cleared her throat.

“Guys, you know you have an audience.”

“That was so adorable,” Jazz added, clapping. “Westley and Buttercup have nothing on you guys.”

I stepped back and peeked into the ballroom. The slow song had ended, and my parents were speaking with Chef Hank by the bar. I turned back to Grayson. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” he said.

“Really?”

“Hey, hello, still here,” Mads said, grinning. “Just point us in a direction, and we’ll leave you two to catch up.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said, collecting their jackets from where I’d dropped them on the floor and bringing them over to the coatroom. “We’re sitting with Josh, Eben, and Brooke–over there, see.”

“C’mon, Jazzy,” Mads said, grabbing her hand. “Holla if you guys need a fire hose!”

“Mads!” Jazz said, shaking her head and following her into the ballroom.

The doors snicked shut behind them, and Grayson pulled me toward the corner again, by Sir Gus, out of view of the ballroom for a proper Haven’t seen you in a week greeting. I wrapped my arms around him, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of me. Our lips touched, and I was swept away in the warmth of his kiss. I hadn’t realized we were moving until I felt the cross‑guard of Sir Gus’s sword jab into my back. We nearly knocked him off his pedestal.

“Who invited you?” I asked when we stopped for a breath. Our arms remained loosely around each other, neither one of us wanting to let go. I leaned back to take in his face.

He looked toward the ballroom, then back at me. “Your father.”

“Um, what?” I asked, breaking our hold.

“Yep, went to his office during the week,” he answered, smiling. “I gave him some money for the damages.”

“You paid for the window? He didn’t tell me that,” I said.

“Well, it was from me, Luke, and Andy,” Grayson said, taking both my hands in his and drawing me close to him again. “Wren, sorry doesn’t even begin to make up for the other night. I don’t know why I let you be part of that crazy plan.”

“Grayson, that crazy plan was partly my idea. I wanted to be involved. The consequences weren’t . . . well, they don’t suck as bad as I thought. Especially now.”

“You must have gotten into some serious trouble with your parents,” he said, brushing his lips across mine.

“I think the thing that bothered my father most was when I told him we were at the love shack to be alone,” I said.

He tossed back his head. “You told him that? Snap. If I’d known before, I don’t think I would have gone to see him. I’m surprised I got an invite.”

“Did the crazy plan work at least? Did you talk to Luke?”

“He’s over the Amsterdam thing, if that’s what you mean.”

“So . . . that means . . .”

“It’s over.”

“And that means . . .”

The ballroom doors flung open.

“Hey, you two, it’s a party–get in here,” Eben said, grabbing my hand. Maddie was right behind him, swaying to the beat of the music that pounded over the sound system. She seized Grayson by the arm and they led us into the ballroom.

Everyone, young and old, staff and their guests, were crammed onto the dance floor, doing the “Cha Cha Slide.” Eben and Maddie hopped right back in without missing a step, waving us to join them. Jazz had her high heels off and was next to Josh, demonstrating how to take it back now, y’all . Josh bumped into a few people when they turned to the left, then gave up the proper steps altogether and took Jazz by the hand and spun her around.

Grayson and I stood on the edge of the dance floor.

“Wanna dance?” he asked.

“You can’t be serious; no . . . I don’t do the group thing,” I said, shrinking back from the crowd.

“C’mon,” Grayson said, “this is my jam.”

“Your jam?”

“Yeah, isn’t it about time we just had . . . fun . . . you and me?” he said, bending his knees and bouncing along with the beat. He swayed his hips in a way that made me laugh. I inched a little closer.

“You and me, I love that.”

He grinned and stepped into the throng of partiers.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked, extending his hand.

There were so many ways to screw this up. I could trip . . . knock into someone and cause a domino effect of fallen dancers . . . make a complete ass of myself. As I stood there, surrounded by the people I loved most, I knew no one would laugh at me even if I took a nose‑dive onto the parquet floor.

And in the center of them all stood Grayson.

Waiting.

For me.

A promise . . .

I grabbed his hand.

It was time to dance.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 685