“Excuse me, but is that The Other Boleyn Girl?” I ask, gobsmacked.
He doesn’t look up at me, instead choosing to smile and shrug as he turns the page.
“It’s actually quite entertaining.” I open my mouth to retort, but he beats me to it. “Completely inaccurate, but entertaining. I’ll give it that.”
I twist my lips to the side, tilting my head as I study the cover. “That’s not my copy. Did you actually go out and buy your own?”
He laughs. “It reminded me of you.”
I was going out of my mind.
I swallow. I don’t want to ruin this—us, talking like normal people. I don’t want to bring up last night, or how I woke up aching for him, nearly gasping for air. I don’t want to make the perfect moment weird or make him uncomfortable. It’s easier to just ignore it, to move it to the back of my mind while I get ready for my day.
So that’s exactly what I do.
I make us all a large breakfast and seeing as Felicity and I haven’t eaten since last year, we go back for seconds. I shower and get ready for a day of exploring, and Felicity does the same. I don’t look at Blake for too long, and the instant Felicity runs back into the bedroom for a hat, I make an excuse about my scarf so I can leave the room. I don’t trust myself alone around him, and I want today to be fun.
We spend the day strolling the city, perusing the shops that happen to be open, and enjoying the light, beautiful snow. We technically only have six days left here, so I try to make the most of it. We decide to cook dinner tonight, and I nearly drop the glass of water I’m holding when Felicity says she invited Hans and Anders over to eat.
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“What?” Blake repeats, his voice hard.
She looks between us, startled. “What? I thought it would be fine.” Her eyes land on mine. “I figured since you and Anders were having so much fun the other night, that we could invite them over for a casual dinner.” Her eyes land on her dad. “Please?”
He doesn’t look at me as he sighs. “Sure, okay. But they can’t stay late. We’re taking an early train to Cesky Krumlov tomorrow, remember?”
“Thanks, dad! I’m going to go get ready.”
And then she’s gone, leaving Blake and I alone. I shift my gaze to him, but he’s looking down at the floor. I’m afraid he’s going to tell me how much of a mistake last night was, so I mumble something about changing my shirt and start to turn to follow Felicity into our bedroom, when Blake clears his throat.
“Wren.”
I freeze at his words, turning around slowly to face him. Crossing my arms, I tilt my head.
“Yeah?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “For what it’s worth, I would’ve kept going.” He looks up at me, pinning me beneath his dark gaze. “Last night. I wouldn’t have stopped.”
I swallow, seeing the memory so vividly in my mind. Our hands, our mouths, feeling him against me, how practiced he was with me, how I was putty in his hands. I squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. Because the fact is, I wouldn’t have stopped either. I don’t think I could’ve stopped; had it been left up to me.
“But you did,” I mumble, opening my eyes and looking at him.
He doesn’t say anything as his thumb flicks over his bottom lip. I see him swallow a few times, and I can tell from over here that his jaw is clenched.
Like he’s deliberating.
Like he’s fighting an internal battle.
“I don’t think we should go down this road, Wren.”
His words slam into me, and I feel tears prick at my eyes. Why does he always seem to find the words that sting the most.
“Do I get a say?” He opens his mouth to answer, but I let out a cruel laugh. “Or am I just some weird conquest to you?”
His face falls, and for a second, I regret my words. “What? No, that’s not—”
“You’re treating me like a child, Blake,” I growl.
He scowls and pushes off the wall. “You are a child—”
“Am I?” I challenge, taking a step toward him. “Are you sure, Blake?”
“Wren, it’s not your age that’s an issue. It’s that you’re a student at the school I teach at. A school I’ve worked at for eleven years. I love my students, and I love what I do.”
“I’m really happy for you,” I say caustically. “You’re right. Last night was a mistake.” I back up, heading toward my bedroom. “It won’t happen again.”
And then I turn and walk into the bedroom, ignoring his wounded expression.
Twenty minutes later, Felicity pushes me out of the bedroom, clad in a leather mini skirt and a cropped, long-sleeve shirt. I’m also wearing tights, and my hair is in a casual ponytail. I see Blake’s eyes travel down my legs quickly, coming back up to my face with an annoyed expression. He opens his mouth to say something, but the knock on the door silences him.
I walk over to the door and let Hans and Anders in. They’re both very good looking—tall, tan, young, with sandy blonde hair. I kiss them on both cheeks, and as I pull away, I feel Blake tug my wrist and pull me away from them.
“Gentlemen,” he says roughly, shaking their hands.
“Thanks for having us,” Anders answers, his accent subtle.
Blake laughs. “I didn’t really have a choice, did I?”
I see Hans shift his feet uncomfortably, but before Blake can make it any more awkward, Felicity ushers them into the small apartment, and I’m once again left alone with her brooding father.
“Behave,” I warn as his brows furrow.
“I paid for this place,” he grumbles. “And I didn’t get enough food for five people.”
I smirk. “You could always go out by yourself if you don’t want to be here.”
He looks at me like I’ve just stabbed him. “And leave you—and Felicity,” he adds quickly, “alone with two strange guys?” He looks at his daughter skeptically. “They don’t look eighteen.”
I laugh as I follow Felicity and the guys into the dining room. Much to Blake’s chagrin, we do have plenty of food, and we all end up gorging on a simple pasta dish and salad. I’m leaning back in my chair slightly when Ander’s hand finds my knee, perfectly visible for Blake and Felicity, who are seated across from us, to see.
Blake’s eyes flit downward at the motion, and his expression is pinched when Anders looks over at me and grins. He’s sweet—seems kind of young, but then again, so are we. Anders wouldn’t deprive me. In fact, if I wanted to, I could drag him back to our bedroom and fuck his brains out. I don’t want Anders, but Blake doesn’t need to know that. I’m pissed off, and all I can think about is how my conversation with Blake ended earlier.
How I walked away, and he didn’t come after me.
As much as I want him, maybe he’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t go down that path. We can stop it now—last night could forever be just a New Year’s Eve kiss, and that’s it. So, I do what any normal girl would do to get back at the man who scorned her. I look at Anders through my lashes and lean in, making sure my body is turned to face him completely. And I whisper into his ear.