Strays

Chapter 28

Lindley came to all at once, and panic immediately flooded her stomach. She opened her eyes and saw she was in Callum's room. Her last memory was a blur of beer pong—she remembered draping herself over Wren, leaning on him for support... something about a bet? Oh, god. The anxiety seized her suddenly, and she sat up. Her heart was racing. What had she done? What had she said? Everyone was there.

She wanted to curl up into a little ball so small that she disappeared. Or to grab her keys and disappear without anyone noticing. That's what she was going to do. She pushed herself up to a seated position and saw the water and a bottle of Advil promised by Dean the night before, and she had to concentrate not to physical cringe at the reminder. She opened the bottle and tapped out five small, candy coated pills and chased them down with plenty of water. Her body demanded the water from a survival standpoint, and she quickly finished the bottle.

Oh no.

Lindley scrambled out of the bed, hindered by the blankets tangling in her legs, and speed walked to the bathroom, tunnel vision between her and the toilet across the hall taking effect. She made it just in time, and fell to her knees in front of the porcelain throne. One hand instinctually pulled her hair back, while pure liquid shot out of her body and into the commode. She heaved twice more before she fell back on her heels and pressed her forehead unsanitarily onto the seat in front of her.

"At least you didn't do it on the sheets." Lindley heaved again.

"Get. Out."

Wren laughed huskily as he made his way out of the bathroom. In her beeline toward the toilet, Lindley had failed to notice him at the sink. When she heard the door click behind her and to her left, she pushed herself to a (mostly) standing position and turned toward the mirror. She rested her weight on her hands in front of her, and looked at the mess facing her. Her makeup was mostly intact, except for some mascara that had leaked under her eyes, but her hair was a tangled mess.

She dabbed some soap and water onto her fingers and attempted to tidy up the makeup around her eyes, before giving up and washing her face completely with the bar of handsoap. Just that gesture made her feel considerably more human, and the anxiety felt minimally reduced, as though the top layer of it had been washed away, along with the dirt, smoke, and makeup that had clogged her pores the night before. Luckily she had a hair tie around her wrist, and she used it to wrangle her hair into a ponytail, brushing out the knots as best as she could manage with her fingers.

Finally, she reached forward and unscrewed the mouthwash bottle on the counter. Taking a swig, she gargled briefly, before immediately turning to dry-heave into the toilet.

-- 

"Good morning," Wren greeted Dean and a few others milling about the kitchen. He was answered with a scattering of various levels of greeting, some more enthused than others. He paid special attention to Dean's brisk, "Morning." He wasn't sure where the two of them stood. There had been a bit of back and forth tugging on Lindley's attention last night. Dean, to his credit, was a friendly drunk. He wasn't overly emotional, or angry, and as the night progressed and the keg withered away, Dean's jealously began to ebb as well.

Lindley only lasted two or three hours before the alcohol made her minimally functional.

"I'd better get her home," Wren had announced to the group around them, which at the time included Dean, Wyatt, ME, Nate, Stacy and her boyfriend Jed. Everyone looked away for a moment, but Dean stepped toward Wren and said softly in his ear, "She can't go home, Man."

"You're right," Wren answered, thinking it imprudent to admit he had been talking about his own place. "Either way, I think I'm going to put her to bed."

"I can take her to Cal's room," Dean said, reaching for where she stood leaning against Wren, but, before he could, Wren had slid an arm under her legs, lifting her up.

"What are you doing?" she slurred, but she made no physically motions to resist. Rather, she rested her head onto his chest seemed to effectively pass out.

"You wanna show me the way?" Wren asked Dean, who was noticeably less smiley than he had been the moment before. Still, the farmer's son led Wren back inside and through the foyer of his massive house, taking a staircase leading from the kitchen to a long hallway. Dean stepped first into the room and pointed at the bed, where Wren could set down Lindley. He laid her down as she made a variety of disgruntled noises.

"Alright, alright," Wren cooed, lifting her shoulders up so he could take off her jacket. "I know, you're going to get to bed. I'm just getting you more comfortable." Dean stared at the usually mysterious and distant dark-clad man, who was putting Lindley to bed as though he were her nanny and she was a sleepy child. Ignoring Dean, who stared in fascination, Wren, removed his denim jacket and maroon hoodie. He struggled with the uncooperative girl.

"Lemme sleep," she mumbled in annoyance.

"If I turn around, will you change on your own, or are you just going to fall asleep?" He asked her playfully but firmly.

"Fine," she mumbled petulantly, and, with closed eyes, she reached out a hand expectantly. Wren handed her his hoody, which he had taken off for this purpose. Wren stood up, turning away from her. Dean followed suit.

"She almost never gets like this," Dean told him. His resentment had been lessened by how gentle he was with Lindley. Despite Dean's feelings for the girl, and the jealousy that was hard to ignore, Lindley was his best friend first. If this was the guy she wanted, it was nice to see that he seemed to be a decent guy.

"I don't doubt it," Wren had answered. After a suspiciously long period of time had passed, they heard a zipper. Wren peeked around to see that she had zipped up the hoody and pulled the hood above her head while simultaneously falling into the mattress. He approached the bed with a deep breath, and began pulling off her shoes and sliding the blanket from beneath her—with great difficulty and much complaint—to cover her up.

"She's not going anywhere," remarked Dean, who began to make his way toward the door. He paused seeing Wren not following. "Coming?"

"Nah," Wren answered, taking a seat on the floor. "I'm going to keep an eye on her. I'd rather just stay here and make sure she's okay."

"Dude," Dean chided, slightly annoyed. "She's fine. She's just passed out." As if on cue, Lindley made dramatic teeth chattering noises to indicate that she was cold. With a quick glance up to Dean as if to say 'I told you so,' Wren picked up his denim jacket and removed his flannel and began working to put them on Lindley, over the hoody.

"Well, I'll get you a pillow and blanket," Dean sighed. This entire ordeal was killing his buzz. If Wren wasn't here, this would all have been a funny story to embarrass Lindley with the next day. Something about this new character in it all made Dean confident that he would downplay as much as possible Wren's involvement. It was a shame, because until this, he had been having fun with Wren. The two had a competitive dynamic because of their twin interests in Lindley, and Dean couldn't help but think that he would have really enjoyed Wren during the rest of the party. But here was a turning point where Wren and Dean's friendship would have materialized, but now could never.

Dean tossed the pillow and blanket he had retrieved from a linen closet at Wren, who caught them with a "thanks" and began setting up a sleeping area on the floor beside the bed.

Wren slept well on the floor next to Lindley, knowing she was safe. It wasn't the most comfortable setup, but he would prefer it any day to sleeping in his trailer, his mind wandering to what was happening at her home. He didn't miss Dean popping his head back in a couple hours later—he figured it must have been to check to make sure Wren truly was respecting drunk Lindley's boundaries and not taking advantage of her. Wren couldn't fault him for that, and he didn't stir from his position on the floor and the door closed shortly after.