The Infinite Moment of Us (27 page)

blue and clung to her curves. There were straps instead of

sleeves. The skirt, which was fuller than the top, swayed

against her thighs as she hurried down the stairs. She came

to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and rose to her

toes. She rubbed her cheek against his.

“You’re stubbly,” she whispered, her breath warm on his

ear. “You look hot with a little stubble.”

“And you look beautiful, baby,” Charlie said, slipping his

arm around her. He’d refrained from shaving on purpose,

knowing she liked him this way, and he knew from a quick

peek down her dress that she was wearing her sexiest bra,

the one with the sheer, leaf-patterned lace. He knew she

wore it on purpose, wanting to please him.

“Why, thank you,” she said. “Can I offer you some cham-

pagne?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, please.”

“Well, right this way,” she said, leading him farther into

the house.

As soon as they were out of Tessa’s line of sight, Charlie

said, “Hey. There’s something I need to do.”

Wren stopped. “There is?”

He touched her lower lip, then lowered his hand and

cupped her breast. She gasped, and Charlie ran his thumb

over her nipple. She pressed against him, and when she

closed her eyes, he kissed her long and hard.

“God, Charlie,” she murmured. Her cheeks were

flushed, and she put her hands on his chest. He felt very

tender toward her. Her protector, her man. He took her

chin and gazed at her, and she smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

P.G. was late, and Tessa lit into him the minute he walked in

the door, but then she noticed the box he held. It was large

enough to hold a soccer ball, or a puppy. The box wasn’t

wrapped, but it didn’t need to be, because it was coated

with gold dust and topped off with a huge gold bow.

“A present? For me?” Tessa said, giving a quick series of

claps. “Oh yay! Can I open it? What is it?” Her eyes widened, and the volume of her voice shot up. “Oh my God, is

it what I think it is?!”

“It better not be,” Wren said.

Charlie glanced at her and saw that she looked alarmed.

“P.G.?” Wren said. “It’s not, is it? It’s, like, a coffeemaker for her dorm room. Right?”

Charlie was lost.

Tessa hopped up from the kitchen table where she,

Wren, and Charlie had been enjoying champagne and

cheese straws. She bounded toward P.G., who lifted the

box high.

“Not yet,” he said. He placed the gold box on the kitchen

counter. “You have to wait. If you don’t, you won’t get it.”

“P.G.!”

Tessa lunged for P.G., and P.G. took her in his arms and

spoke in a low voice. Charlie couldn’t make out what he

said, but Tessa rolled her eyes. She whispered into P.G.’s

ear, covering her mouth with her hand, and P.G. grinned.

“Definitely,” he said.

Charlie found Wren’s knee under the table. He ran his

hand under her dress and up her leg, making her press her

lips together, as well as her thighs. She shot him a look. He

shrugged and grinned, too.

Tessa suggested that they eat. “I made lasagna, and it is

marvelous,” she said. “Wren made the salad, and it’s okay,

too.”

“Ha-ha,” Wren said. “
I
made the lasagna, and brownies

for dessert. Tessa made the salad.”

“Details, details,” Tessa said.

As Tessa loaded up everyone’s plates, Charlie’s hand

traveled higher between Wren’s thighs. Tessa sat down, and

everyone dug in, chatting and laughing. Charlie stayed in

the conversation, but his real interest lay elsewhere. With

his hand that was under the table, he reached the lace bordering Wren’s panties. Wren dropped her piece of bread.

She tried to act as if nothing unusual was going on, but her

hand joined his under the table. She clutched his forearm.

Her fingernails dug into his skin.

“I’m sorry, what?” she said to P.G., and P.G. repeated a

plot detail of the story he was telling.

Charlie’s fingers went to the strip of silk stretched over

Wren’s crotch. Wren’s grip on him tightened. He looped

his thumb under the top edge of Wren’s panties and

tugged the fabric upward, and finally Wren couldn’t take it

anymore. She gripped Charlie’s wrist and moved his hand

forcibly away, relocating it to his own thigh and pressing

down on it for several seconds to ensure that he’d stay put.

“Jesus,” she said under her breath, but the look she gave

him thrilled him.

“I want you,” he mouthed.

She laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Tessa said.

“Blame Charlie; it’s his fault,” Wren said.

“It always is,” Charlie said.

“I blame you, Charlie,” Tessa said. “Are you going to let

us in on the joke?”

“Leave the poor kids alone,” P.G. said. “They’re young

and in love. What more do you need to know?”

The minute everyone finished eating, Tessa shoved back

her chair and said, “Well, that was delicious, and now I

think P.G. should give me my present. Wren, do you agree?

Charlie?”

“No,” Wren said.

“Sure,” Charlie said, and Wren lightly slapped his leg. “I

mean, no, this is a terrible time. Sorry, Tessa.” In his pocket, his phone vibrated. The ringer was off, for Wren’s sake. It

vibrated again. He’d check it when he could.

P.G. rose from the table. He went to the refrigerator

and pulled out a second bottle of champagne. He topped

off Tessa’s glass and asked Wren if she would like a refill.

“I’m good,” Wren said, covering her glass. She moved

her other hand higher on Charlie’s leg, and heat spread

through him. She smelled sweet, and her body was soft,

and she had no idea what she did to him. She might think

she did, but she didn’t.

He swallowed and whispered, “You’re so gorgeous.”

“I am?”

He had a dead-on view of her breasts, which threatened

to spill from her see-through bra. Damn, it was hard not

to touch her. “You are.”

“We can hear you, you know!” Tessa called from across

the table. She was a little drunk—they were all a little

drunk—but it was okay. All four of them were spending

the night there, which meant no driving.

P.G. poured champagne into Charlie’s glass and his own,

then proposed they adjourn to the den.

“To open my present?” Tessa said.

“To open your present,” P.G. said. “Although it’s not a

coffeemaker, just to warn you.”

“Oh God,” Wren said. She stood up. “I’ll get the brownies.”

“I am not doing the dishes,” Tessa said. “Not yet, possibly not ever.” She, too, rose from the table. P.G. grabbed

the gold box, and the two of them headed for the den.

“Do you need help?” Charlie asked Wren.

She smiled and said, “Nah, I’ve got it. You go on. I’ll be

right there.”

His phone vibrated again. He paused in the hallway and

pulled it out.

Two voice mails, both from Ammon. That wasn’t what

he’d expected. He felt a pang of guilt, because he hadn’t

been much of a friend to Ammon these last two months.

Ammon had asked Charlie if he wanted to hang out

tonight, but Charlie had begged off. Ammon gave him hell

until Charlie told him that it was a special dinner set up by

Wren and Tessa.

“You know how girls get about these things,” Charlie

had said.

“No, unfortunately, I don’t,” Ammon had said.

Charlie explained that there’d be no parents and no cur-

few, and that Wren was leaving for Guatemala on Monday.

Only then did Ammon lay off.

Charlie pressed play and raised the phone. “Charlie, call

me,” Ammon said, sounding tense. “I’m at Piedmont Park.

There’s a bunch of us here, including Starrla, and I messed

up, dude. She asked me where you were. I didn’t tell her, I

swear, but she kept hounding me and asking, ‘Well, is he is

at this place or that place? Huh?’ And she mentioned Tessa,

and—” Charlie heard loud voices in the background. A guy

yelled, “Shit! No fucking way! No fucking way, dude!”

Ammon spoke again. “Sorry. Crazy scene. But Starrla’s

on a tear, and the guys she’s with, they’re not from South-

view. I get the feeling—”

The voice mail cut off. Charlie was about to punch play

to hear the second message, but Wren swished out of the

kitchen in her sexy blue dress, carrying a plate of brownies

in front of her.

She smiled at him. “You waited for me. You are so sweet.”

“That’s me,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket

and striding to her. He placed his hands on her waist. He

slid his hands to her lower back and then to her perfect ass,

pulling her closer.

He thought of Starrla and whatever trouble she was get-

ting into.

No. He would not think of Starrla or whatever assholes

she chose to get wasted with. Only Wren.

Wren spun out of his grip. “Come along, young Charlie.

I will corrupt you with my delicious brownies.”

“Be right there,” he said. He tugged at his jeans. “Except

I might have a hard time walking for a minute.”

She looked slightly shocked, and then pleased. She

winked and swished off, and his dick, which had begun to

soften, grew stiff again. It was mind-blowing how easily,

and often, she aroused him.

He shook his head. He needed to listen to Ammon’s

second message, whether he wanted to or not.

“Get a new phone, bro,” played Ammon’s recorded

voice. “And, yeah, I strongly suggest that you and Wren

get out of there. Get out of Tessa’s house, and tell Tessa to maybe—” Charlie had a hard time hearing Ammon over whatever

was going on in Tessa’s den. He pressed the phone closer

and hunched over.

“—over there.” Charlie heard Ammon sigh. “Just watch

yourself. And call me when you can.”

Charlie closed his phone. What the hell was Ammon

talking about, and why tonight? Starrla’s craziness, that was

real. Assholes getting drunk and belligerent? Of course.

But Ammon telling Charlie to get the four of them out

of Tessa’s house seemed extreme. Unless Starrla wanted to

stage a face-off with Wren, or with Charlie . . . ?

“Hey, Charlie!” Tessa called from the den. “What’s the

hold up, dude?”

Wren, laughing, called, “Yeah, I need you. Get in here!”

He raked a hand through his hair, put on a grin, and fol-

lowed the voices to the den. He didn’t want Wren thinking

his attention had been elsewhere.

“Can I open it now?” Tessa said. “Please?”

The gold box was on the coffee table. Tessa pressed her

palms together and made puppy-dog eyes at P.G.

“Wait,” Charlie said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I,

um, got a call from Ammon. I think we should head out.”

“Huh?” Wren said.

Charlie heard the hum of a distant motor. Headlight

beams washed through the windows, and Tessa shielded

her eyes.

“Whoa, not cool,” she said. She raised her voice. “Hey,

people! Don’t use my driveway to turn around in!”

“We have to go,” Charlie said. “We have to go. Now.”

“Charlie, why?” Wren said. “What’s going on?”

Charlie strode to the window. It was too dark for him

to recognize the driver. Without looking at Wren, he said,

“P.G., I think we might have some visitors.”

P.G. appeared by his side. “Dude, what are you talking

about?”

A car door opened. Then another. Voices spilled into the

night, raucous and crude.

Tessa got to her feet and joined Charlie and P.G. “What

the . . . ? Shit. Is that Starrla Pettit?”

Wren went to the window. She looked small, and Char-

lie wanted to stop her. Freeze her in time. Keep her safe.

She put her hands on either side of her face and peered out

the glass, and a sour taste rose in Charlie’s throat.

She stepped back, and her retreat made their visitors

hoot.

“Come back, sweet thing!” one of them said. They were

out of the car and almost to Tessa’s front door.

The door. P.G. had been the last to arrive. Had he locked

the door behind him?

The knob rotated. Charlie strode forward, but it was

too late. The door opened, and a guy the size of a bouncer

jammed his foot into the crack before Charlie could slam

it shut. The bouncer shouldered his way in, and Starrla and

two other guys followed on his heels.

“Not cool,” P.G. said.

“Charlie,
hiiiii
!” Starrla exclaimed, and Charlie heard how drunk she was.

“You need to leave,” he said.

“Or not,” she said, scanning the room. She spotted Wren

and whistled, or tried to, but failed because she was also

laughing. She tottered on her high heels. “Whoa. I mean,

whoa
.”

Charlie’s hands formed fists. “Starrla, stop.”

“But, Charlie.” She grabbed her bouncer friend for bal-

ance. She mock-whispered, “I knew she was stacked, but

whoa. Get that dress off her, and we’s talking porno.”

The bouncer laughed, and Charlie swung, throwing a

cross punch straight to the bouncer’s jaw. It was a solid

punch and should have taken him out, but the bouncer only

crinkled his wide brow. Then his forehead smoothed.

“Oh buddy,” he said. “Bad idea.”