At the wrongness of it all.
And I realize, as I pant and close my eyes, that I don’t even care if it’s forbidden. I don’t care if he’s my teacher, or if he’s Felicity’s dad. Because this? This was earth-shattering. I know he feels the same, because he’s watching me with an expression of awe and hunger—like he can’t believe we just did that, but he also can’t wait to do it again.
He lowers me to the ground, and I’m no longer holding the door up with my back, so it falls off the hinges just as Blake pulls me out of the way. We both start laughing, and the next thing we know, we’re on the floor in hysterics. Once I’ve composed myself, Blake walks over to the sink and wets a washcloth, cleaning me up as his eyes find mine. I swallow as he zips himself up, and we don’t say anything as my phone vibrates on the counter.
Felicity.
“You should probably go,” Blake says, his voice low and serious. “She’s going to worry.” I look down at my thighs and start to feel for the rip in my tights, but Blake’s hand reaches forward, gripping my wrist. “Leave it.”
I snap my eyes to his. “Leave a gaping hole in my tights—sans underwear, mind you—while I go walking in eighteen-degree weather?”
His throat bobs. “Yes. Because I want you to feel me drip out of you when you’re dancing with him.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he just gives me a cocky smile and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me stunned.
Chapter 8
Wren
* * *
Felicity and I stay out way too late, but we learned our lesson a couple of nights ago and stick to two drinks. I even manage to remind Felicity to text Blake so that he doesn’t come storming through the door again—not that I would necessarily complain.
The next morning comes all too soon, but we have a seven o’clock train to Cesky Krumlov, and it’s a three-and-a-half-hour train ride. Blake surprises us and tells us that we’re staying for a night, so we make sure to throw pajamas, clothes, and a toothbrush into an overnight bag. The thrill of travel once again settles over me on the train ride, and I hardly think of Blake or the fact that we had sex last night. Instead, I choose to focus on the Czech countryside as we travel south to the medieval city.
As the train pulls in, I realize it’s like a miniature version of Prague. We walk to a hotel in the middle of the city, and much to my chagrin, there is only one room booked, because he’d booked it when it was just him and Felicity. Blake looks flustered as he tries to book us an additional room, but he’s not successful, and we all decide to share the two-bed room—Felicity and I in one bed, and Blake in the other. I can’t think about it for too long without my whole body succumbing to nervous butterflies. Exploring the Cesky Krumlov castle is a perfect distraction.
By the time we get back to the hotel room to change for dinner, I’m exhausted, and Felicity must feel the same way because she crawls into bed for a quick nap. I busy myself in the bathroom, changing and drying my hair. By the time I emerge about an hour later, Blake is sitting in his bed, wearing pajamas.
“Aren’t we going to dinner?” I ask, looking between them.
“I have a fever,” Felicity whines. She sits up and shakes her head. “I felt off all day, and dad just took my temperature. 102. I feel like fucking dog shit.”
When I look over at Blake, his lips twitch briefly with the hint of a smile at her words. I know under normal circumstances, he might say something about the cursing, as I’ve seen him do it before, but I guess he’s picking his battles tonight.
“You have a thermometer?” It’s all I can think to ask.
He nods. “Always. I made the mistake of going to Peru once without one and found myself sick and unable to get to a doctor or a pharmacy to grab one.”
I cross my arms. “Okay, well, let’s just order room service. I’ll go change into my pajamas too—”
“Noooo,” Felicity croaks. “Go without me. I just want to sleep, honestly. You should enjoy your night.”
I glance at Blake, who looks just as apprehensive as me. “We’re not just going to leave you,” I say with conviction. “What if you need us and we’re not here?”
She snorts. “I have a cold, Wren, not amnesia. If I need you guys, I will call you.” She sniffs and blows her nose. “Can you get me a Gatorade or something like that? I’m not hungry, but I want to keep my electrolytes up.”
“Sure, sweetie,” Blake says, hopping out of bed. He looks at me. “I’ll be ready in five.”
As he’s in the bathroom, I sit on the edge of Felicity’s bed. “Are you sure? I’d much rather stay here with you.”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m fine.”
I look at the door and whisper. “I don’t want to be alone with your dad!”
She laughs. “Please. You’re a terrible actress, do you know that?”
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
She snorts again, and then she coughs a few times before nuzzling back into the covers.
“You’ve both been making googly-eyes at each other since we’ve gotten here.”
My heart hammers against my chest. “What? No, it’s—”
“Relax.” She sighs, shaking her head and looking at me with her kind, light brown eyes. “I don’t care. I think it’s really fucking weird, but you’re an adult, and so is he.”
I swallow. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” I whisper, laughing.
She tilts her head and smiles. “He’s different around you. I mean, he always was, but I thought it was because he didn’t like you. Now I’m wondering if it’s because he liked you too much.” I look down at the duvet, trying to think of what to say, of how much I should tell her, when she continues. “Just, for the love of all that’s holy, please don’t ever tell me about your sexual escapades. Do whatever you want, but I don’t want the details. Ever,” she emphasizes.
I laugh. “Fine. That’s fair.”
Blake emerges then, clad in a white button-down shirt and navy pants. I feel underdressed in my red sweater and black jeans, but it’s fucking freezing out, and I had no intention of wearing a dress or a skirt to walk around.
“Have fun, guys,” Felicity says, turning over and pulling the duvet over her head. “Don’t forget my Gatorade. And don’t forget to wear a condom.”
“What did you—” Blake starts.
I grab his elbow and pull him out of the room before he can say anything else. As the door snicks shut, he turns to face me.
“Did you tell her?” he accuses, his voice rough.
Hurt and disappointment snake through me at his words. “Of course, I didn’t. But she knows. She said she could tell something was up.”
His eyes narrow. “How? I’ve been so careful,” he says, sighing as he rubs his temples. “I could get fired, Wren.”
I cross my arms and lean against the wall of the hallway. “I don’t know.” When I look over at him, he looks distraught. “But we’ll figure it out. For tonight, let’s just go get something to eat.”