SMELLING ROSES

Chapter Fourteen

The morning offered a highlight reel of last night's greatest hits. Such as falling face forward on the concrete, eating Jell-O from Mrs. Davidson's fridge, and singing karaoke in the middle of the street. Other than that, everything was a bit hazy. I could still hear FrontRunner's music and remembered Wren's promise of a road trip.

I wanted to go, but leaving for a trip after starting a job was bad. It wasn't dancing without music wrong; it was just wrong.

Nestling deeper into my bed, the blanket melted into my body. The smell of old chocolate drifted to my nose as paper rumbled under me. I snapped my eyes open and saw a ton of discarded snacks and candy wrappers.

Beside me, someone stirred. The bed shifted at their weight and my heart fell into my butt. Who was sleeping beside me?

I turned, against my better judgment, praying it was Val or Shae or even Mrs. Davidson. But it was Wren. He slept in sweet slumber, and I launched to my feet. I scanned the room. From the posters of Weezer and Foo Fighters, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Guitars set in the corner by a desk filled with notebooks and crumpled paper. Vacuum lines were on the carpet, and I remembered doing it. This was Wren's place. He brought me here after I begged, but it was a mess. I cleaned it from top to bottom.

"Oh my God," I mumbled.

I looked over his soft features. He looked so innocent. My vision went fuzzy, and I dug for my glasses at the bottom of my bag. I don't even want to know what I did with my contacts. When the world cleared, I noticed the animation equipment he gave me last night. He was still full of surprises. I dove for it, turned on the tablet, and it radiated colors.

I pushed myself to the middle of the bed. The view of Wren was better further away.

His tousled black hair laid haphazardly over his forehead. He squeezed his pillow into his chest. I sketched the outline of his face. Tracing the line of his jaw, I smoothed out his brows and perfected the curve of his lips. I wanted to capture every part of him. I could do this for hours.

After numerous attempts to get his eyes right, I took up another challenge. I looked back at his disheveled mane and cultivated wispy strokes until it took form. When I looked back at him, he was already staring at me.

"Did I wake you?" I whispered.

He didn't answer right away, like his voice hadn't woken up yet. "No. You painting me like one of your French girls?"

His morning voice made my toes curl. "Is it weird?" I asked.

He let out a breathless laugh, and it felt like a daily vitamin. Without it, my day couldn't start. "Not at all. Good morning, Songbird."

"Good morning." I looked away. Sometimes he looked at me like he was reading all my thoughts. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't hide how much I liked him. "So...I spent the night?" I asked.

"More like moved in."

I almost flung myself out of bed and he raised his hands. "Mrs. Davidson kicked you out for now until you got yourself together."

I think I remembered that? I remembered going back to her house. At least this wasn't permanent. I could move back in tonight, but I'm really giving life my best shot. Kicked out of two houses in one summer. Who am I? I don't need to be let out of the house. I could only blame my family for so much.

"Nora, it was so bad." Wren leaned into the headboard and groaned. "I actually got kinda scared. You wouldn't come down. That wasn't weed. I had to keep making sure you were breathing throughout the night."

He laughed, but it made me feel worse. I even had him worried. Bad, Nora. I knew better. "I'm sorry." I hung my head.

"Don't be. You didn't know it was going to do that to you. Let's just never do that again." We nodded in agreement and I let out a small laugh.