Chapter Three

Wren's friends were nice. They were the type of people I wished met in high school and coming from me, that was a big compliment.

"I'm like the cool older brother." Da-Bin was tall, olive-skinned, and covered in tattoos. He even carried himself like he was the eldest of the group.

Wren swiveled around from the passenger seat and patted Da-Bin's shoulder. "More like the quiet grandpa."

"And Wren's like the designated baby of the group," Valentina interjected. I was convinced summer was created for her. The way her tan skin shimmered in the sun, and how her jet back hair shined like silk only proved my point.

"Hey, how's that work?" Wren pressed his chest into the seat and pointed at her. "Last time I checked we were both twenty, so if I'm a baby, so are you."

She pointed back. "You act like you're the baby of the family. Just like I can already tell Nora's the oldest of her family."

When they looked at me, I chuckled. "She's right."

The jeep filled with laughter as Wren and Valentina bickered back and forth. The great thing about long car rides was how much you could learn about someone. The three of them met a few years ago in Da-Bin's garage, aka his illegal tattoo shop. He double-booked himself, and when Wren showed up for his appointment, he was only halfway through Valentina's piece. Three hours later, Da-Bin finished with Valentina, and she asked him out. That's when Wren raised hell.

"So, I was like, you want me to buy you dinner too?" Da-Bin said.

Valentina laughed. "And Wren was like 'yes.'"

Wren interjected himself right in the middle of their meet-cute. But I guess meet-cutes could exist in friendships too. They still had dinner with each other every Sunday. When the conversation moved to me, I realized how little I had to say about myself. I only talked about the restaurant.

"It's on Patterson's Alley," I said.

"Oh, that's the alleyway with just black-owned businesses," Da-Bin shouted from the front.

He'd been there to take piano lessons and wanted to show Wren and Valentina. Maybe they'd visit us. "Our restaurant's called Campbell's Home."

Talking about the restaurant made me think of my siblings. What were they up to? I wasn't one to stay out for too long, but other than Shae, no one had contacted me. With the day winding down, I wondered if they were even concerned. Do they ever worry about me too?

As Da-Bin cruised the neighborhood for a spot, my mouth fell agape. The party was in Grant Lake. The rich part of town. I stared in awe. The houses practically stood on stages. Lights highlighted their grandeur and their bright green grass cut with precision. Not a hair or stone out of place.

I felt the bass in my chest before I saw the house. Tucked in a corner, stood two stories of wealth and vain. They littered the lawn with cars and solo cups. Groups hung out outside and in the streets as Da-Bin came to a stop. "You guys go in. I'mma try to find somewhere to park."

Valentina and I hopped out. Somehow, the summer air felt better than the heat in Da-Bin's car. He was one of those lunatics who drove with their heat on hell all throughout the year.

Neither Valentina nor I wanted to come to this shindig, so we huddled together. The rowdy partygoers were enough to keep me outside forever, but when a girl threw up a bucket of beer, we hurried inside.

The host stood at the door. David Lawson. I knew him from high school. He was a bully. Not to me, but to anyone he felt threatened by. Always rich, always stupid, and always good-looking. And to my surprise, he remembered me too.

"N-Nora." His eyes went wide and he hugged me. He was huge, sweaty, and reeked, but too taken with himself to notice. I remembered his infamous nervous laugh the moment it started up again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he leaned against the door seal. "I'm glad you came. How've you been, anyway?"

"Great. Been working at the restaurant, so..." I always felt like a hostage with small talk. When could I walk away? How many times could I answer 'yeah' and sound like I was contributing?

"Right." He scanned my face and seemed pleased when his smile deepened. "How'd you hear about my party?"

This time, Valentina interjected. "She's with the band."

His face fell as he looked behind us. "Oh, you know—"

"I don't know why she said that. I'm not with anybody." At my declaration, Da-Bin slithered through the door. He grabbed Valentina's hand and pulled her inside.

Don't leave me. I watched helplessly as the two got lost in the crowd. Forced to entertain Lawson for another painful question and answer, he perked up. "You're not here with anyone? Great. Did you want to hang o—"

"She's with me, actually." Wren slid his arm over my shoulder, and I relaxed.

"...Wren?" Lawson's eyes lingered on his hand pressed into my shoulder. "I thought you weren't coming."

"To your party? I wouldn't want to miss it, man." Wren pushed us further inside and goosebumps rose against my skin. It was freezing.

"Right..." Lawson stumbled at the steps, looking into the living room. "Uh, my sister's probably excited you're here. Did you want to—"

"Nah, it's okay. I don't want to leave Nora." Wren pulled me closer, and though I wasn't sure why he'd gotten territorial, if it got Lawson away, I didn't mind. Leaning into his embrace, Lawson backed into the crowd.

"Right...well, I already got a performer so, you can just hang out, I guess," he said, then vanished into the crowd.

The house looked bigger from the inside, with its spiral staircase, open foyer, and dangling chandelier. He had all these people in here, dirtying up the carpet and chucking centerpieces across the room. My father would murder me for even thinking about throwing a party.

Wren draped his jacket over my arms. "Here. This came in handy after all."

I snuggled into the warmth, catching his woody scent. "You think I want to wear something you sweated in all day?"

If he was embarrassed, he didn't show it. "This is the part where you say, 'no, Wren, then you'll be cold.' And we got back and forth on who gets the jacket." His scratchy voice rose an octave higher. I know I don't sound like that.

"OH no! Wren, then you'll get cold." Acting wasn't my strong suit, but he seemed to enjoy the way I tossed the jacket and frolicked about.

"It was cuter when I did it," he said, placing the jacket on my shoulders and pulling me upstairs.

I felt like I was walking through a museum. The spiral staircase offered a great view of the party below. Up here, things were quiet. It was clear Lawson made sure no one was allowed on the second floor. But Wren walked the floors like he owned the place. It felt like it went on for miles. Stopping at the last room on the left, a rainbow of colors flickered in the dark. When he switched the light, a home arcade was revealed.

He stopped at the air hockey table and cleared the scoreboard. We both start at zero. An unspoken exchange passed through us as the pucks unleashed. I clutched the pusher in an instant, and our battle began.

"Okay, let's play rapid-fire," he announced, splitting my attention in two. "When's the last time you cried?"

Last night. "Not recently." The puck flew into every corner but never close enough to call me the victor. "What's your favorite color?"

He flung the puck straight for me and scored. "Boring. Green. What's the most illegal thing you've done?"

"Been black."

The game went undisturbed. As I studied his slack jaw, he fumbled for a response. "Um—"

Whoosh. The scoreboard jingled, and we tied. He shot upright and catapulted the puck back to me. It bounded back and forth, clipping my hand.

"You okay?" he asked, but I didn't let his concern distract me. With a curt nod, we thundered through the game. He picked up speed and not before long, I couldn't keep up. One misdirect later, he scored and was in the lead.

"You cheated!"

The features of his face lifted. "How?"

"Because—"

He swiped the puck with ease and scored again. As the timer sounded, there was no way I could make it back from this. When the final score tallied, his shoulders stacked high and defeat ricocheted through me.

I stepped back and let him gloat. The smell of hot salsa and spices greeted us, and my stomach growled. "Do you smell tacos?"

He ended his victory walk. We abandoned the arcade for the time being and headed downstairs.

"I've never been to a house party before. Wasn't cool enough," I said when we made it to the kitchen. A boy sporting a football helmet performed a comedy sketch on the counter. Dodging his outlandish moves, I shoved a taco into my mouth before my brain caught up. You're not at home, Nora. People can see you.

"Neither was I," Wren said, munching on a chip drenched in salsa. As if someone overheard his lie, people greeted him in droves. A few high fives, fist bumps, and handshakes later, I gave him a look.

"I mean, I technically didn't go to high school, but I've never been cool."

"You didn't graduate high school?" Here I was being judged for deciding not to go to college, and he didn't even finish high school.

"I got my GED. It was the only way my mom would let me do music full time."

So, he's a musician? Was that why everyone knew him? He couldn't be that big of a deal. I've never heard of him.

"What's your insta?" He pulled out his phone, and for the first time, I regretted what I was about to say.

"Don't have one."

People always freaked out when I said it, but he didn't ask the usual questions. Do you have something to hide? Do you not have friends? Are you super private?

He only had one. "Don't do anything worth posting?"

I've been called out. I should write 'I'M BORING' on my forehead, so people know what they're getting themselves into. "Ever since I heard this guy say people who only post selfies prove they have no life, it turned me off. No need to reinforce what I already know."

He lowered his eyes. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Did he feel bad for me because I sounded pitiful?

"When was your last relationship?" he asked.

Where did that come from? "What's with all the questions?"

"So, there's this thing called conversation. It's what you do when you want to get to know someone better. You know, when you meet someone new?"

"Oh, so you mean, you don't make up an elaborate scheme to spend the entire day with someone you barely know? I gotta remember that." I snapped my fingers.

A smirk played on his lips. "It wasn't that elaborate."

"To answer your question, I've never been in one. No one's ever thrown rocks outside my window."

"Me neither."

Bullshit. "Okay, you're just agreeing with me. You may have never dated anyone, but I'm sure there are a ton of girls who've dated you."

His mouth fell open as he pressed his hand into his chest. "What kind of guy do you think I am, Nora?"

"You can tell a lot about someone from just a few details," I said.

"Okay, well, Nora Campbell. I know you can sing, you weren't cool in high school, never dated, and you're eighteen going on forty." He cackled at my reaction. That wasn't funny. "This tells me you enjoy music, didn't suck up to people in high school, and the male population is totally inept, but that's okay. I can fix that." He gave me a cheeky wink, and I heard a girl squeal behind me. Burying his laugh, he finished. "And you've got an old soul."

"Inept. Look at you using SAT words." I dusted his shoulder off, and he fanned himself with pride.

My turn to analyze him. "Okay, Wren..."

"Wade," he answered.

"Your parents must love you," I joked. "You're a musician, apparently wasn't cool in high school, never dated, and you're twenty going on fourteen." He stumbled on his feet, pretending to be scorned. "This tells me you have a way with words, hit the jackpot and peaked after high school, and the female population looks completely satisfied." I pointed to the army of girls at our side. The moment I walked away, they were going to pounce on him like he was the last dinner roll on the table.

He peeked at his audience and pushed back on his heels. "Let's go check out the pool."

When he took my hand, it practically stopped traffic. In my wildest dreams, I'd never garner this much attention by simply existing in a room. There was something about him, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It seemed like no one else could either. The only thing I could say; Wren understood the difference between walking and moving.

The crowd parted as we made our way to the pool. It was connected to a hot tub, and it held over its capacity by a longshot. I shivered at all the bodies sweating in one tight space. Thankfully, Valentina and Da-Bin were smart. They sat at the edge of the pool, dangling their feet in the water.

"Wanna jump in?" Wren asked.

I envisioned my hair reverting at the first touch of water, turning my sleek braids into a frizzy mess. It took 2 days to achieve this hairstyle. I wish he would! I snatched my hand from his grasp as he raised an imaginary white flag. Settling for the edge of the pool, he patted the space beside him. When I was sure he'd play nice, I slid my shoes off and joined him. I had to admit. This was fun.

"So, what's your deal? Why's Shae so worried about you?"

I knew he'd ask at some point. It was the perfect opportunity to get an outsider's perspective. I lived in a house full of people who thought anything was possible, despite living a life that wasn't. I wanted to hear I was right, but as Wren's eyes lit up at the mention of Regina's offer, I knew I wouldn't find solace in him either.

"So, you're not going to do it?" he asked.

"No. What's the point?"

"Clearly animation is your dream—"

Dream? When did I call it my dream? Of course, he would string a simple offer into something bigger than it needed to be.

"What's that reaction?" he laughed.

"I'm too old to dream. They're not real, anyway."

You would've thought I told him I didn't believe in Santa Claus. He nearly fell into the pool the way he revved back. "Dreams aren't real? I'm the biggest dreamer I know. You're never too old to dream. Why do you think that?"

His voice spiked, and fire whirled in his eyes. Although we ditched the air hockey table, we were still at it. This time I wouldn't lose. "Because I am. Parents tell their kids to follow their dreams when they're younger, but once you reach eighteen, pursuing your dreams means putting your responsibilities on hold. It's time to get serious."

"God, you sound like my mom." He raked his hands through his hair. This wasn't banter. He was actually upset. "She's in her fifties, and you're eighteen talking just like her."

"Well, she's right."

"No, she's not."

"Okay, you're a musician, right?" I shook my head in disapproval. "Plenty of people want to be singers and never become them. How long have you been pursuing it?"

"Four years," he said proudly. "And I've gotten so good at it, people pay me to play at their venues."

I clapped my hands. "Is that why you turned Lawson down?"

"Unforeseen complications."

We watched as Lawson charmed his way through the crowd. As if he felt my stare, he gave me a broad smile and a cup filled with pink liquid. When I took it, he winked. One whiff made my eyes water. I'm not drinking this.

Wren observed the overly joyous host. Lawson was perfect for this. He had enough money to be perfect at anything. When Wren turned his attention back to the pool, he rolled his eyes. Looks like I've found his archenemy.

"Tonight doesn't count. I'm taking the summer off," he continued. "I felt like I played a show every day last year. I need a break. And...I need to make more music."

His voice dropped, so I egged him on. "And why haven't you?"

"Unforeseen complications."

More like the dream wore off. When you want something bad enough, you convince yourself it's a dream. It turns a hobby into a calling on your life. Something you were meant to do. A reason to keep going. But dreams don't absolve you of pain. They caused more. Your dreams only work if others profit from them. And if you actually end up with your heart's desire, you have to give up something for it. You can't have your dream and have peace. So, there was no point in having them. In the end, they weren't worth it.

"They say the best music comes from heartbreak," I said.

"Figures you'd say that," he chuckled, looking my way. "But you gotta fall in love first."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Give me your summer."

"What?"

"Your restaurant's going to be closed for the summer, so let me have it. You believe dreams aren't real. I want to prove they are. I'm in desperate need of inspiration. Be my muse this summer. Let's actually have a summer romance, one the movies would be jealous of."

"I'm sure there are a ton of girls more qualified than me." I wasn't giving him my summer. My summer didn't even belong to me. And the restaurant...the restaurant wasn't a problem. So, what excuse could I give him?

"But, I want you."

Jesus. I felt that in my spine.

"Tell me your dreams," he said. "All of them, and I'll make them come true. I need inspiration. You need memories for your animation story. It's a win-win. You may even get a few moments worth posting too."

I laughed. Was he a salesman? Because he was pretty convincing. "Who said I was doing the animation story?"

"When we're through, you're going to do just about anything to capture this feeling. The very thing you wish for every night, the thing you've probably gotten so good at ignoring, you don't even remember what it is. When you see it come to fruition by your own hands, there's no way you could ever go back to thinking nothing's possible. So, what do you say?"

There was a moment. Brief, but too evident to ignore, where I realized I wanted him to do it. I wanted to see what life looked like on the other side. Why did my father give up his job to chase his dreams, and why did our mother surrender her health in order to make them come true? What about dreams made people act irrationally? And without them, did they feel empty?

Was I empty? I needed my dreams to come true in order to know, but what if it didn't change me? What if I felt the same? And if it didn't change me, I wasn't sure who'd be more disappointed. Me or Wren?

So, believe me, it felt good to stand my ground and give him a hearty "No."

🌻Full playlist?

Just type in "Smelling Roses" in Spotify.

Author Note: Here's who I picture as Da-Bin and Valentina.