Page 27 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

I take a few steps to one side so as not to block the way for anyone else heading for the table.

“Hey, beautiful,” says a voice close beside me.

I freeze. Then I grit my teeth.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been spoken to like that. There are a few boys in my year who laid bets on who could chat me up the fastest—just as a joke, obviously.

I immediately shut down and turn, glass in hand.

There’s a young man standing there. He has a handsome, attractive face; full lips, and eyes so dark they almost look black; and such curling lashes that I could be quite jealous.

He’s a little taller than me, his hair is short and wavy, and there’s a hint of stubble on his face.

Like most men here, he’s wearing a tailor-made suit but looks way less neat and tidy than everyone else.

His tie is a bit loose, and his black jacket is unbuttoned.

I get the impression that he’s gone to a lot of effort to look this messy.

Like he’s been to too many of these things and is bored of them now.

He’s probably only speaking to me because he’s bored.

I look around as discreetly as possible. Usually in these situations, there’s a group of lads standing a few feet away, enjoying a laugh at my expense. But nobody seems to be watching, which makes me even more suspicious.

“Hello,” I reply, my voice hard and dismissive, the mirror image of my emotions.

The guy looks me over from head to toe, his eyes resting a little too long on the low neckline of my dress.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he continues, looking me in the eyes again. And as his mouth slowly curls into a smile, something clicks into place.

I know this boy.

OK, I don’t know -him-know-him, but I follow him on Instagram.

His handle is @kingfitz, but I know that his real name is Wren Fitzgerald.

His feed is full of luxury, parties, and girls, and his stories are full of selfies and videos where he’s half naked and apparently half asleep.

But I don’t buy it. Nobody could look that good if they’d only just woken up.

“Probably because I don’t go to Maxton Hall,” I reply, sipping from the glass. My mouth feels dry and my heart is beating kind of fast. Why the hell do I care that this lad is flirting with me?

“I thought as much,” Wren murmurs, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. It’s relaxed, almost like he’s too lazy to go to the effort of a proper smile. Like he’d rather not waste the energy he’s saving for something else, something dirtier. The idea makes me flush hotly.

“I’m Wren,” he says after a while, holding out his hand.

I hesitate a moment and look around again—his mates have to be here somewhere. I don’t believe this isn’t some joke. I mean, OK, I’m not lacking in self-esteem. It doesn’t seem totally impossible that a guy would talk to me at a party. But not a guy like him.

“Where are they?” I ask.

He blinks in confusion, lowering his hand. “Where are who?”

“The friends who dared you to hit on me.”

“Why do you think anyone would have to dare me to talk to you?”

I raise an ironic eyebrow. “Oh, come on.”

We look at each other and both frown. The pianist is playing again, but I can’t really hear the tune. I’m too busy finding out what Wren is up to here.

“Believe me, I’m perfectly capable of speaking to a pretty girl of my own free will,” he says in the end.

I open my mouth and shut it again. Then I take a closer look at Wren. His lips aren’t twitching like the boys who’ve come on to me at my school, and there’s no funny glimmer in his eyes.

Maybe he genuinely wants to flirt. Not for some dare, or some stupid joke, but just because he finds me as attractive as I do him.

I’m pretty sure he’s the last person I ought to be speaking to this evening. I don’t know what to make of this, and I can’t get a handle on him—but that’s exactly why I’m curious.

“I’m Ember,” I say belatedly.

“Nice to meet you, Ember.”

I like the way he says my name. Kind of uncertainly, like he needs to practice it a bit.

“Likewise, Wren.”

I am actually good at small talk. But at this moment, I have absolutely no idea what to say.

I know Wren’s online image, just as I know the way I appear to my followers—always cheerful, optimistic, and up for fun.

But there are so many evenings where I’m feeling down and cry in secret in my room.

Nobody knows about that, not even my sister.

So I’m hesitant to judge people by the way they present themselves on socials.

And I’m curious about what Wren is really like—whether there’s anything more behind the facade.

Maybe I should pull myself together and push my prejudices down a bit. At any rate, there’s no harm in having a conversation with him.

“What school are you at, then?” Wren asks, nabbing a glass of orange juice from a tray as a waiter pushes past us. “Eastview?”

I shake my head. “Gormsey High.”

For an instant, Wren seems to freeze. He stops in mid-sip and looks wide-eyed at me, then he blinks and the moment is over. “Sounds exotic.”

I wonder if I was only imagining his weird reaction. “It’s in the middle of nowhere,” I say slowly. “Not surprising if you’ve never heard of it.”

“So are you somebody’s plus-one?” he asks, looking at me with interest.

“I’m here with my sister. She switched to Maxton Hall a couple of years ago.”

“Well, that’s lucky for me, isn’t it?” says Wren.

At first I’m not sure what he means. “Why’s that?”

Now he’s smiling properly—showing his teeth and the little lines around his mouth. “Well, if your sister wasn’t at this school, we’d never have met. And that really would be a shame. Don’t you think?”

He whispers those last words, sounding so intimate that it gives me goose bumps. I can only nod, as if he’d hypnotized me, even though every single alarm bell is going off in my head, warning me to be careful.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Ember?” he asks quietly, the smile slowly ebbing away and making way for something else.

He takes a step toward me until we’re almost touching.

I’d only have to stretch my hand out a little way to take hold of his.

I’m wondering how that would feel. Whether his skin is warm.

I clear my throat. “I…”

Wren comes closer still. So close that I can feel his breath on my temple. Again, I feel the urge to look around, but I ignore it.

“Maybe we should find somewhere a little quieter so we can get to kn—”

“Wren.” A deep voice interrupts him, and I’m snapped out of my trance. I instantly take a step back and turn my head.

It’s James Beaufort.

The James who broke my big sister’s heart.

The James who kissed another girl, as a result of which, Ruby spent Christmas acting like a lovesick zombie.

A wave of fury washes over me as he speaks again.

“I see you’ve met Ruby’s sister,” he says, his voice free of any intonation.

A funny look crosses Wren’s eyes. “Ruby’s sister, huh?”

I nod slowly and look in confusion from one to the other.

“Evidently I have good taste,” he continues, his voice almost mocking and totally different from his tender tone just now. “If you still want to—”

“I don’t think Ember does want to. Whatever it was. Fuck off, Wren,” James says, cutting him off again. There’s an authority in his voice that won’t be contradicted. I ask myself if he always speaks to his friends like that, and if so, why the hell he still has so many of them.

The smile is wiped off Wren’s face and he’s looking pretty pissed off. He shakes his head and mutters something extremely rude. Then he looks at me again. “I wish we’d been able to continue our conversation, Ember.”

The next moment, he bends down and presses his lips to my cheek. As he pulls away, he’s looking at James, not me.

Before I can say a word, he turns and disappears into the crowd. I lift my hand to where he kissed my cheek while James glares after Wren. Why do I get the feeling that Wren only kissed me to annoy James?

“Sorry about that, Ember,” James murmurs.

Then he runs after Wren and I’m left on my own at the bar.

James

I find Wren out in the lobby with the lads. As I join their little circle, Cyril lifts his hand.

“Beaufort! To what do we owe this honor?”

I ignore him and give Wren a dirty look.

“What were you playing at?” I snap at him.

He doesn’t answer, just takes a long swig from a flask.

“Wren.”

He rolls his eyes. “We were just talking. Stop making such a big deal of it.”

“She’s Ruby’s sister, for God’s sake. Keep your hands off her.”

Wren snorts. “I’ve had it up to here with constantly making allowances for you.”

I raise a mocking eyebrow. “Allowances? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know what, Beaufort? Fuck you,” he retorts, draining the flask in one and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Wren,” says Kesh warningly.

“No, Kesh. I’ve had enough of sparing James’s feelings.

” Wren turns back to me. “All the stuff you said back in the summer was just talk. You’re skipping training because you’re on the fucking events committee, you walk out of parties to go and see your girlfriend, and now you’re coming over all prissy because I want to chat someone up.

I get the feeling you don’t give a shit about us anymore.

You don’t even listen when anyone tries to tell you anything. ”

“That’s bullshit ,” I reply.

He shakes his head. “You know what? You deal with your own shit. That’s all you’re fit for at the moment anyway.”

I look at him in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Wren walks away, takes two steps, then turns on his heel and jabs his finger at me. “That’s exactly what I mean,” he hisses. “I’ve been trying for ages to have a normal conversation with you, but you’re just not interested.”

“Leave it out, Wren.”

Deep down, I know he’s right. The last time we were out together, he hinted at something that I just blanked on because I was too busy thinking about Ruby. Now I’m starting to get a guilty conscience.

“Leave what out? I’m right and you know it. There’s no room in your head for anything but Ruby. She’s all there is left in your life,” he shouts.

“I…” My voice trails away. But anger flares in my chest. “There’s a lot going on right now, but that’s nothing to do with her.” I wish there was any other way of getting that through to him.

“You’ve only been like this since you met Ruby, so don’t go trying to protect her. It makes me sick. I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Hey, Wren, cool it,” says Kesh, but Wren pushes him out of the way and takes a furious step toward me.

“You act like Ruby can fix everything in your oh-so-shitty life. Like she’s some kind of a saint. But she’s not,” he hisses.

I stare at him with a frown. “I get that you’re angry. I’ve been a shit friend and I’m sorry—but leave Ruby out of it. You don’t know her.”

Wren shakes his head scornfully. “I know Ruby very well indeed. If you’d listened to me for more than two seconds any time in the last few weeks, I could have told you how well I know her.”

I open my mouth, but the words stick in my throat.

I know that tone of voice. And I know what it means.

Wren seems to clock that he’s said too much too. He grits his teeth so hard that his jawbone juts out.

“What are you saying?”

“This might not be the right place for this conversation,” suggests Alistair, but I shake my head.

“What did you mean just now?” I insist.

Wren hesitates, but my glare isn’t letting him off the hook. After a second or two, he clears his throat. “Ruby and I had a little something going on at a Back-to-School party once upon a time.”

My heart starts to pound; my throat is constricted.

“Well, there’s a surprise,” says Cyril, sounding almost pleased. “Ruby’s spent all this time keeping the fact that she got off with your best friend a secret.”

“Shut it, Cy,” I growl.

“Looks like she’s not the sweet girl next door after all,” he continues, unfazed. “So maybe now you’ll finally stop putting her on such a fucking pedestal.”

“Say another word, Cy, and I swear to God…”

“He’s right,” Wren interrupts. “If you mattered to her as much as she does to you, she’d have told you about it months ago.”

I spin around and grab him by his collar. He doesn’t struggle or fight back, just looks at me with his dark eyes.

“You know it’s true. Or else you wouldn’t be losing your shit like this.”

His words echo in my head; my breathing is ragged. Wren’s suit jacket is about to tear, I’m gripping it so hard.

I really have been thinking about nothing but Ruby. I’ve spent the whole time trying to win her back and neglecting everything else around me. Not just Lydia, but all my friends. And what for?

And what the fuck for?

“What are you lot doing out here?” I hear a voice whisper fiercely behind us.

Ruby.

I turn toward her and feel a painful stab in the chest. I’m out of my depth here. I’m only dimly aware that there are a few guests behind Ruby, looking on in concern.

She comes right over to us. “What are you doing here?” she whispers again, looking from me to Wren and back again.

“James just learned about our little secret, Ruby.”

All the color drains from Ruby’s face.

For a moment, I long to punch Wren’s lights out. But then I remember my dad’s clenched fist. I snatch my hands away from Wren. I can’t stay in this hall a second longer.

“James…” Ruby whispers.

I just shake my head and leave.