{18+ COMPLETE} For the past three years, Bren Hadaway has been preparing to die.
When he was sixteen, he watched his dad murder his mom. And ever since, he's been counting down the days until it was his turn to be at the end of a gun. And Bren has...
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The next day, Nessa and I were working on a paper in the dorm commons.
"Basically if you lived in the 1500s and you had hella money, you could just pay the church to erase all your dirty little secrets and sins. So then the Protestants showed up and were all like like nah, that's some bullshit."
"I think Professor Evans would love to read that as your definition of the Protestant Reformation."
I was mumbling, staring at the blank page on my MacBook. But in Nessa's silence, I glanced up to see her watching me, a mischievous glint in her eye. My lips tugged down in a frown. Protestant reformation really wasn't that scandalous.
Nessa definitely wasn't thinking about history.
"So...last night."
I pointed at my laptop. "So...paper."
She ignored me.
"Did you and Bren work things out?"
"We..." I tried not to blush, but heat rose on my face anyway. Tingles of pleasure worked their way through my limbs at the memories. "Yeah." A casual shrug. "We worked things out."
"You're not going to give me details, are you?"
I shook my head.
"Who am I supposed to live vicariously through if not you?"
"Find a good, spicy book."
Nessa didn't miss a beat.
"So it was spicy, huh?"
"Well, it's Bren. He's...yeah."
At the moment, I was inordinately inarticulate. But it was impossible to describe the things that happened between Bren and me. Not just last night, but every time. It wasn't merely a physical thing. And yet, it was definitely physical. And, well, verbal.
Bren liked dirty talk.
And for his birthday, I'd given him a free pass to unload on me every single dirty thought he had.
But Nessa didn't need to know that my heart was going wild, my skin crawling as I relived the words that Bren had murmured, his breathing labored.
Oh, god. If I lived in the 1500s, I would definitely owe the church a lot of money for my sins. Sins that all had to do with a brown-eyed boy.
She snorted and shook her head.
"Okay, hot stuff. Let's get going on this paper."
"Alright, Wednesday," I said, thankful for the change of thoughts.
"Hey." She scoffed at me for the Wednesday comment.
I wasn't phased. "If you're going to call me hot stuff, I'm going to call you Wednesday."
