One step in front of the other, I thought, taking deep breaths. You can do this. You are Wren from Starbucks! Memes are immortal!
I cursed my drunken brain.
"Hey!" I sang, in an overly friendly and way too forward tone, setting my eyes upon Nathan's face. The moment he looked up, I knew he wasn't anywhere near as drunk as I was... but he definitely wasn't sober, either. I took in his stare.
Then his chest.
Crap— focus Wren. Bad liquor brain!
Nathan raised an eyebrow at me, but the corner of his mouth turned up.
"Lana didn't tell me you'd be here."
His eyes flickered curiously over me, and I couldn't determine if it was an accusation or a conversation starter, so in my awkward, drunken state, I stretched my hands out and did little jazz fingers.
"Here I am!" I sang, and my eyebrows did a weird thing that probably resembled the kind of look Hades would use to seduce people.
God damn it Wren— be smooth, not satanic!
"Who are you here with?" he asked, actually smiling now, as he stepped a little closer. He had a beer in one hand and his breath was heavy with tequila and whatever else that had been in those shots earlier.
"Oh, you know! Just a YouTuber!" I said casually, waving my hand like it was totally no big deal. Because that wasn't the most idiotic line I'd ever come up with. I mean, it was a wonder I still had Nathan's attention at this point. Never mind getting any kind of confession from him— we'd lost the moment I downed that stupid shot.
"Maybe we should go find him," he said, giving me a judgemental look. But thankfully, I thought of an opportunity here, and added.
"Sure! We should get another drink too!"
Funnily enough, I blacked out at that point
The next thing I remember was being seeing the deep, blue duvet of a bed, and the dull light of a modern lamp nearby.
No idea how I got there mind you.
I remember looking up, and looking straight into Nathan's eyes.
And I know what you're thinking.
Drunk Wren slept with Nathan Gilmore.
No. It wasn't like that— I swear!
As it happened, I was actually sitting— well, more like slouching— and he was pouring his heart out to me, sitting at my side.
"So, like, I didn't want to hurt her, you know?" he said, his voice slurred and full of emotion. "But Lana... she's hot. And she's rich. And she's popular... and it does wonders for my reputation."
He turned so that he was fully facing me, and looked me straight in the eye.
"You know who I was before I was Nathan Gilmore?"
I shook my head, and sipped my drink. Then recoiled a little, staring at my drink.
How many have I had now?
Nathan inhaled deeply, and loudly, through his nostrils, and then his face crumpled. He let out a choked noise.
"I was Gilmore Girl."
YOU ARE READING
Life of WrenTeen Fiction
It started with a Starbucks drink, and it ended in a viral meme. Nineteen-year-old Wren Robinson had it all- the perfect boyfriend, an architecture degree, and a life of comfort and luxury- until she threw it all away to chase a dream of living in L...