Wren had thought that she was doing everything right. She had the right career path, the right boyfriend, the right friends. She did everything that she was told, and she thought that she was happy. Until her junior year of college is about to start...
"I promise that I won't punch anybody," I say over the phone on Tuesday. "Please, I need to get out of this apartment."
"No," He declines, continuing to be so stubborn about not letting me go to the fights tonight because of the fact that I had gotten into a fight with that other girl last week before we got arrested. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"I said that I promise," I repeat to him. "No fighting. I'll even apologize to that girl that I fought if that'll make you feel better."
"I'm not worried about her feelings. She won't try to fight you again or anything but if you try to piss off the wrong person in that place, you could really end up hurt," He tells me.
"I understand," I assure him. "I was just hoping that I could convince you to change your mind."
"It's not just that I'd feel responsible for you," He says. "I'm the underdog tonight, it's going to be a brutal fight and you'd be worrying about me too and it'd just be easier if you don't go."
"Well, now that you just told me that, I'll be worried anyway," I say. "Is it dangerous?"
"It's always dangerous, Wren," He says with a small laugh. "Look, I'll call you tonight and let you know how it goes, alright?"
"I want to go."
"Even if I win, it's going to be brutal," Shaw warns me again, but he sounds like he's letting up.
"I'll be ready in fifteen minutes. No punching and no freaking out too much," I assure him.
I don't give Shaw the chance to respond to me, to tell me no again, and I hang up. I get dressed in leggings, a white spaghetti strapped tank, and a denim button up that I leave unbuttoned. I slip on some black combat boots and then use my over-the-shoulder bag to stuff it full of any first-aid stuff that I can find in the apartment.
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The living area is empty, so I'm relieved to be free from dealing with Jesse. Until I hear arguing in the hallway from familiar voices.
"I begged you a million times to tell her." It's Jesse. "Because I knew this was going to happen."
I don't have to open the door to know that he's talking to Clayton, but I do anyway. They're standing down the hall in front of Clay's open apartment door, too busy in their own conversation to notice me.
"I was trying to protect us," Clayton tells him.
"We are not the only people that matter, Clay," Jesse snaps back at him. His blond hair is ragged on his head the way it is when he gets frustrated, because he keeps running his fingers through it. "I don't know how I let you convince me that this was normal."
"Jesse, I'm sorry. If I knew things would get this bad, I would have done things differently. But we can't-" He stops talking abruptly when he glances up and sees me eavesdropping.
