The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid Page 0,12
aisle gasped when the hanger flew over her head from the force and landed two aisles over. I tucked my lips in to stifle my laugh at the way her already magnified eyes had grown even larger thanks to the bifocals perched on her nose. She was still blinking rapidly in disapproval even after Wren mumbled an apology and turned to me.
“Let’s go,” he said between clenched teeth.
I eyed the coat strangled in his fist as he stalked away. It was even uglier than the orange one, and I giddily hoped whoever Wren was shopping for was as hideous as that coat.
I struggled to keep up with his long, determined strides to the cash register. Once we reached the front, I stood silently as he grabbed a gray ribbed beanie with a black and gray fuzzy ball on top from a bin along with a thick, black scarf and matching gloves. I nodded my approval and decided to keep them for myself the moment he wasn’t looking.
The cashier cheerily greeted us both. Of course, Wren only rudely managed a nod while remaining tight-lipped. I offered a halted wave, and my smile was even more awkward as we waited for him to ring up the items.
“That will be $114.99,” the cashier stated. Wren reached into his pocket for his wallet and paused when he came up short.
Shit.
“What the fu—” His eyes cut to me.
I considered denying stealing his wallet to satisfy my jealous heart, but his hard expression told me there wasn’t a chance he’d believe me.
Shamelessly, I reached into my pocket, removed two hundred dollar bills from his wallet, and handed it to the suddenly nervous cashier.
“When did you—”
“While we were getting shot at.”
The cashier paused from counting my change, but neither of us paid him much mind.
“You save my life, and then you steal from me?” Wren questioned in a low tone. I should have been afraid, but he’d vowed not to hurt me, and I had the sense he didn’t break his promises easily—certainly not over a few bucks.
“No, Renny. I saved your life so I could steal from you.”
The cashier interrupted Wren’s reply by stuttering the amount of his change. I snatched it before Wren could even react and tossed him his wallet while pocketing the cash. I then bounced out of the store thinking how well I’d eat with eighty-five bucks plus the Benny I’d already pilfered.
I hadn’t even remembered taking his wallet until I’d dug through my rucksack after my shower, hoping to find a cleaner shirt. I couldn’t help wanting to know as much as I could about him, so before I came downstairs, I rummaged through it. Sadly, other than cash, there had been nothing inside but his license and a picture of a young dark-haired woman so beautiful it almost hurt. She wasn’t alone in the photo, either. A little boy, maybe eight or nine, with almost identical features was sitting next to her. It didn’t take a genius to know the boy was Wren and the woman he’d been smiling up at with such love and adoration was his mother.
His license was interesting, too, though not nearly.
Wren Joseph Harlan had brown hair, blue eyes (sometimes), and was born August 31st…1995.
My stomach twisted into knots almost as tight as it did the first time I did the math. He’d be eighteen soon.
I didn’t like that the age gap between us was more than I’d thought. I’d only turned fifteen a few days ago. I wondered if Wren would have made that pact with me if he knew just how much younger I was or that I wasn’t even old enough to drive much less have sex.
“Give me my money back,” Wren demanded when he finally joined me on the sidewalk.
“Why? You obviously don’t need it. You’re just upset that I bested you,” I boasted with a wink.
“Lou…”
“Renny.”
He blew out air, and without a word, stalked across the parking lot with the shopping bag in hand. Once we settled inside the still-warm truck, I studied him. He didn’t look as pissed as he was a second ago. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed.
“You know she’s going to hate it, right?”
“Hate what?” he said as he started the truck and backed out slowly.
“The coat. It’s ugly as all hell.”
“Good,” he said with a smirk. “Because the coat is for you.”
I tried to speak and choked on my tongue instead. “For me?” I squeaked.