Chapter 5
Wren
* * *
The next couple of days follow in a similar manner. We wake up late, Blake makes us a hearty breakfast, and then we go out and explore the city before an afternoon nap—where I’d since requested Felicity wake her own father up—and dinner. We tour the Prague castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, and the National Museum on Wenceslas Square, and hit up the Czech shopping while Blake takes a historical tour of Prague. I’m sad to miss it, but I also don’t want to leave Felicity high and dry, so I oblige her shopping habits. We drink beer with almost every meal, much to Blake’s chagrin, and sample some of the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life—like the goulash, which is served with dumplings. My jeans begin to grow tighter, and I’m not sure if it’s the beer or all the food, but I truly do not care.
On our fourth night, Felicity decides we’re going clubbing. Blake protests at first, but we agree to share our location on our phones, and to stick together. We also agree to a midnight curfew. Felicity drags me out in a skimpy black dress with straps as thin as floss, and she pulls on a pair of leather pants and a sparkly, cropped tank top. I let her do my hair and makeup, and I don’t look at Blake until just as we’re about to leave.
I wish I hadn’t, because his eyes are slowly roving down my legs. When they snap back up to meet my eyes, I swallow at the possessiveness in his expression—and his clenched fists.
“Bye, dad!” Felicity croons.
“Be good,” is all he says, and I don’t appreciate how he directs it at me.
I’m glad I have my winter coat, because my toes are frozen in these platform heels—so at least only my feet are cold. Jenny, our friend from Regent, told us about this converted warehouse that’s made up of five stories. Each floor has a different theme. There’s a 70’s floor, an 80’s floor, a 90’s floor, an R&B floor, and a top 40 hits floor.
We choose the 90’s floor first, checking our coats and taking two shots right off the bat. We promised Blake we wouldn’t drink too much, but screw him. We’re eighteen, and we can do anything we want to for tonight.
“This is so much fun!” Felicity yells in my ear. She looks amazing tonight, and the lights on the dance floor make the color of her eyes look golden. “I’m so glad you came on this trip with me,” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “It really took my mind off of my mom having to work,” she adds, looking vulnerable as hell and somewhat sad.
Of course, she’s sad. She sees her mom every other weekend, but this was her last Christmas before college—and she’d already had one with Blake last year. I know she was looking forward to Christmas in Boston.
“I know,” I say, hugging her again. “I’m glad I could be here with you, too.” I drag her to the bar. “I think we need another drink.”
And so it begins, and over the course of the night, we each consume a few more drinks—to the point where we stumble everywhere and giggle maniacally at every little thing. We make our way to every floor, finally settling on the top 40 hits floor. My stomach aches from laughing so hard, we lose our shoes at one point, and it feels like we dance for hours on end. We make friends with a couple of German guys, and an hour later, we’re all screaming the lyrics to a pop song with our arms around each other, swaying side to side. Someone even brings in kebabs, and Felicity and I gorge ourselves, relishing in how good the food tastes. I’m having so much fun that when I see Blake’s angry face across the room as I dance with one of the German guys, I assume I’m hallucinating.
But then the events of the night come crashing into my mind. Slowly but surely, I groggily remember that my phone is in my coat—which is downstairs. I’d meant to check the time earlier, but then we met Hans and Anders, and time got away from us…
Before I can register that he’s here, he takes several angry strides toward me, dragging me away from Anders. I glance at Felicity, who is standing next to me, and I can’t help but feel my cheeks heat and awareness return as Blake looks between us, furious.
“What’s wrong?” I yell over the music, shaking my head.
He sighs. “Jesus fuck, Wren. It’s nearly three in the morning.”
Felicity gasps. “Dad, don’t be mad at her. It was my fault—”
Blake lets out a cruel laugh. “Am I really supposed to believe that? The one night in your life that you break curfew, and of course you’re with… her!” he yells, his eyes finding mine.
I take a deep breath, and my chest stings from all the screaming and cigarette smoke—but also from his accusation.
“We lost track of time,” I explain, crossing my arms. “It’s not like we committed any crimes tonight, Blake.”
My use of his first name startles him. I’ve only ever said it once, in the dark, when he was asleep. His head rears back slightly, and he grabs my wrist in one arm, and Felicity’s wrist in the other. Our bare feet slap against the old wood as we walk to the elevator, and I ignore the scent of mint permeating the air of the confined space. His chest rises and falls quickly—like he’s trying to calm himself down. A strange thrill works through me—that maybe he’s not angry because he’s Felicity’s dad and we were being slightly irresponsible by breaking curfew, but because he found me dancing with another guy.
He retrieves our coats and throws them over us, then procures our shoes that had been lined up by the door. I slip into mine, frowning. I am sober now, and I know he’s going to blame tonight on me for a very long time. I keep quiet as we walk through Prague, the mist clinging to the old buildings and lampposts, creating an eerie atmosphere around us. We only encounter a few other people, and every time I look at Blake, his brows are furrowed, and his lips are formed in a thin line. He’s also walking impossibly fast; Felicity has to basically jog to keep up with him as the shortest out of all of us.
When we arrive back at our apartment, Felicity rushes to the bathroom, and I hear her vomit loudly. My eyes snap to Blake’s as I slip off my pumps, and his eyes scan my legs for the second time tonight before flicking back up to my face.
“Happy?” he seethes, nodding to the bathroom.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, because I forced all of that alcohol down her throat.” I shrug my coat off and stalk to my room. I hear him follow me.
“Of course, you didn’t. But I expected you to look after her,” he hisses, his eyes dark with rage.
“Why? Isn’t that your job?” I twist around to face him.
“Don’t give me that attitude,” he chides, sneering. He takes a step forward, backing me up against the tall bed I’m sharing with his daughter. “I get enough of it in class.”
Oh, he’s going there.
I let out a caustic laugh and cross my arms. “You’re being an asshole. We were out having fun, something we’re entitled to as adults.” I pin him with a glare. He’s so close that I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Or did you forget we’re old enough to make our own decisions now?”
Something flashes in his dark irises, causing me to swallow and stiffen, to lean away from him. “No, I definitely did not forget,” he says, his voice low. So, so different from just a second ago. For the third time, his eyes rove down my body. Slowly. Savoring it this time. When his eyes find mine again, he almost looks afraid. My breathing halts, and the spot between my leg’s throbs.