by Piper Lawson
“This isn’t what I trained for. I enjoy spending time with you. All of you. But it’s not what I planned.”
“Maybe you need to roll with the punches,” he tosses back. “You think it doesn’t matter who teaches us at Baden? It matters. We matter, and you matter too.” His voice is fierce, and guilt stabs me.
For a kid who wants to be onstage, he has a future as a boxer because I’m officially flat on my back.
When I hang up, Jake’s looking at his own phone.
“Now who’s neglecting their workout?” I toss.
“Ben’s asking me why I didn’t let him know about something called ‘Modern Love.’” His gaze lifts to mine. “And why you didn’t when you talked to him last month.”
“What are you talking about?”
I cross to him, and he pulls up a page on his phone.
It’s my app. And it’s not. I read the description.
You’re tired of meeting people who don’t do it for you. You want to find a meaningful relationship, and you’re frustrated with investing your time, energy, and trusting your heart to things that don’t work.
Guess what?
Modern Love is more than skin deep.
It’s about finding someone you click with—literally.
Opposites attract, and it’s not just a song.
It’s true on every level.
I scan the rest of the text, hearing Rena’s voice in my head with every word.
“When did you do all this?” Jake asks, sounding impressed.
“I didn’t.”
He lowers the phone.
I remember her words from the last time we spent together. I’ve replayed them over and over in my mind.
“We’ll figure it out. Together.”
I drop onto the bench, rubbing my hands over my sweaty face.
What I’ve seen in the past four months has shown me that you can’t force things to be a certain way. Not everything turns out how you plan.
Maybe that’s okay.
I can’t control my life, but I can control what I do.
What work I do.
Where I live…
Whom I love.
When I look up, there’s new energy surging through me.
“I need your help,” I tell Jake.
“How many carats?”
“Christ, I’m not proposing.”
“Engagement rings aren’t the only diamonds,” he says as though I’m naive and in need of an education.
“You don’t even know what happened between us. Jewelry doesn’t fix everything,” I say, exasperated.
“Bullshit,” he says dryly. “In my professional opinion, jewelry fixes everything.”
30
Rena
“This place turned out amazingly!” Kendall gushes.
“Did you go through the experiential part?” I ask.
“Yes. The three phases of sound, words, and touch. It’s incredible. Mia’s thrilled, and Daisy’s going to love it.”
I look around us at the ballroom. It’s all white, with little touches of glitter. “I was afraid it’d look like a toilet paper commercial.”
“Rena.” I turn to see a familiar form. “Where’s the whisky?”
“No whisky. Sparkling water only. This is about consciousness and experience. You were supposed to wear natural fibers.” I gesture to my own dress, then look pointedly at Jake’s suit.
“It’s wool,” he points out. “Let’s refocus. There’s no alcohol.”
“Correct.”
“I invite you to my parties,” he grumbles. “What kind of hospitality is this?”
I put my hands on my hips, unperturbed. “Where’s your scarf?”
Kendall holds up hers.
“How’d you dodge getting one?” I demand before getting one and wrapping it around his neck.
“I can’t believe you got cashmere scarfs for the launch party.”
“We’d normally spend that much on Patrón. This is more on-brand. It’s about heightened awareness and comfort. Besides”—I round on Jake as he pulls off the scarf and holds it out to me—“lots of other guys are wearing them.”
“Be that as it may.”
Resigned, I take it from his fingertips before he drops it. “Maybe your plus-one wants it.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” He turns on his heel to greet someone.
“Hey, Jake?” I call before he can leave. “Have you seen Wes lately?”
“Yes. But I’m too old to be a matchmaker.”
I lift my chin. “If I wanted to get him back, don’t you think I’d just show up at his apartment wearing leather and lace?”
He shoots me an amused look. “No, I don’t. This is Wesley we’re talking about. And we both know him better than that.”
He walks away, and I’m left thinking about that.
I miss the hell out of Wes. Maybe I notice it more because I’ve turned down every guy who’s asked me out in the past six weeks.
But I can’t even think of going out with someone. It’s like my heart’s duct-taped to the floor and there’s no chance of it being freed anytime soon.
A familiar face comes up to me. It takes me a second to recognize Brad, the Crotchmaster client who dropped me.
“Rena, I’m surprised to see you here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “My colleague Kendall and I organized the entire thing.”
He recovers quickly. “Listen, I might have overreacted before, letting you go from our campaign. I’d love to hear your ideas.”
“That’s big of you to admit.”
“So, you’ll meet with us?”
“My client roster is actually full at the moment, but I can add you to our waiting list. Enjoy the party.”
His jaw goes slack, and it takes him a moment to turn away, scratching at his neck.
Kendall’s cracking up at my side. “I didn’t expect it to be this entertaining.” Her laughter fades. “Come on, that must’ve felt good.”
“A little,” I admit.
“We need to go out. We’ll get you to bounce back yet. Have you heard of geocaching? People bury things, and you follow the coordinates online to find it. They can be underground, in trees, tucked into walls...”
“Let me get this straight—you’re going in, hands first, in public places, after things strangers have left for other strangers?” I wrinkle my nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”
Kendall’s face shifts from excited to surprised as she looks past me.
I swear I feel him before I see him.
I turn and Wes’s tall shape fills my vision, drowns out the rest of the room. He’s in faded denim with a sweater I want to rub my face all over.
But he could be wearing a scuba suit for all I care, because he’s here. As I soak in the sight of his broad shoulders, his good posture, that straight jaw and firm mouth, I didn’t realize until this moment how much it hurt not to be in the same space as him.
“Nice scarf.” My voice is rough at the edges.
“Thanks. It came with the party.” His blue eyes work over mine, and I let out a shaky breath.
Who knew his voice could affect me so much? It’s like hearing the most beautiful sound you thought you’d never hear again.
“Hey Wes. What do you think of geocaching?” Kendall asks, innocent.
Wes’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Isn’t that where you dig up things strangers left in public places? No thanks.”
He takes a step closer, and his clean scent floods my senses. I think my heart explodes. “What are you doing here?”
“Jake had a plus-one. In fairness, I happened to be there when the invitation came in. Otherwise, he probably would’ve brought someone.”
Another step.
“Funny thing. Ben reached out with a renewed interest in Modern Love. Which, apparently, is the name of my DNA dating app. It got radically more sophisticated in the last few weeks.”
I can’t stop the flush at his praise. I know it�
�s better, but hearing the words from his lips affects me. “I promised to help. I had to see it through.”
I wonder if that’s the wrong thing to say because his brows draw together under the fall of hair I’m desperate to brush away.
“Well, your timing was impeccable. I was considering shutting down the program. For some reason, the idea of helping people fall in love wasn’t appealing to me.” His smile is wry. “But Ben expressed renewed interest in the app, and I agreed to partner with him to develop it further.”
“It sounds like things are looking up for you,” I say carefully.
“In some areas,” he agrees. “But not all.”
“No?” I fold my arms over my chest, trying not to read into his cryptic words.
Wes’s gaze searches my face. “I need to confess something.”
“Is it that you murdered someone and buried them under the building?” I can’t resist saying. “Because I’m not sure I can take that kind of candor.”
His blue eyes sparkle. “No. It’s a compliment. I wanted to warn you because it’s big.
“You’re the kindest, most challenging, breathtaking, fun person I’ve ever met.”
My breath catches, and there can’t possibly be more but Wes’s mouth keeps moving.
“You’re smart, and sophisticated, and hilarious, and unbelievably sexy.
“And I have something for you.”
He pulls out an envelope from his pocket and holds it between us. It’s off-white, unmarked, and so slim there can’t be more than a single sheet of paper inside it.
“What is it?”
“You wanted to know if we matched. The answer’s in here.”
I take the envelope from him, hold it up to the light, my breath catching.
“You want to open it? It’s yours,” he says.
I turn it over in my hands, then hold it back out to him, shaking my head. “No. Do you?”
He considers. “I know this app has helped a lot of people, and I hope it’ll help a lot more. But I don’t need an algorithm—even one I designed—to tell me I should love you.
“I know I’m in love with you. And I don’t give a fuck what science thinks of it.”
Wes loves me.
My chest expands until I must be bumping into the people closest to me because suddenly I’m taking up more space in this already-crowded room.
“For real?”
He nods. “I knew it before I got back from Seattle. But after what happened with my work, I lost myself. I was so obsessed with what I thought I wanted I lost sight of what I needed.”
He steps closer, but instead of reaching for my face, he tugs on my ponytail.
I swallow the laugh. “Most guys like it down.”
“Fuck most guys.” His unflinching response has me grinning. “I’ve always had a thing for this. And for you.”
His mouth brushes mine, and I’m a pool of neediness on the floor.
“You’re that easy?”
“We’re that easy.”
Then he’s kissing me, and nothing else matters.
Epilogue
Wes
Three months later
“The topic is…”
I’m drumming my fingers on the arm of the auditorium chair as I strain to hear the announcer. Beck’s next to me, holding his breath.
“‘Does school teach you what you need to succeed in life?’”
Beck and I look at each other. Then he signs, I’ve got this.
“Go get ‘em,” I say to him and the other students, then I take my seat again as they take the stage.
“There you are! Why are you at the back?” Rena asks, appearing at my shoulder.
“Better view,” I mumble.
“No, you can’t watch from any closer,” she realizes.
I shrug. “If they win, they go to state. It’s kind of a big deal.”
Her fingers thread through mine, and I look at her.
When I met her, I thought she was pretty.
I was so fucking wrong.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her eyes shine, her hair’s pulled back, and her lips are that red that makes me hard without fail.
Good thing the auditorium’s dark and we’re at the back of it.
“All faculty are required to be involved in extracurriculars,” I remind her, partly to keep my brain from sidetracking to the things she does with that mouth. “Since I’m back on the faculty, it was this or basketball.”
“True.”
It’s February, and I’ve been back at Baden, teaching science for six weeks since the winter break. Rena’s dad didn’t help, but in an initiative spearheaded by Beck, several students wrote in to the administration about how much they wanted me back.
“Sorry I’m late,” she adds. “Just doing some things for Haley’s wedding.”
“Everything good?”
She nods. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Will you be my date?”
“I’m not big on weddings. I don’t get the crying, and then I look like the insensitive asshole who doesn’t cry, but sure.”
She shoots me a look. “You’re so cute.”
Rena and I watch the debate, and I’m on the edge of my seat. I pump my fist when Beck makes a great analogy. I go to kiss her, and she lets me but pulls back at the last minute.
“What’s wrong?”
“My dad’s over there. I don’t want to give him a heart attack.”
I covertly look toward where she’s nodding. Terry Crawford’s standing and watching the stage, hands in his pockets. I don’t ask too much about their relationship because I know it’s complicated. But since I petitioned to get my job back, he hasn’t stood in my way.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it. Rena raises a brow as I hold out the screen.
“That’s the committee at NYU?” she says. “They’re probably going to offer you the assistant professor job, you know. Are you sure you want to turn it down?”
I pocket the phone. “I think rather advise on research projects related to my expertise. I can help advance cancer research without the politics of being on the faculty.
“Besides. Between Baden and Modern Love, I’m keeping busy.”
Ben and I have launched a demo, and we’ve already been slammed with demand. There’s a waiting list of more than twenty thousand users for the app, which means more than paying off my and my dad’s bills.
The best part is it will actually help people. Since we posted the first testimonials, another dozen couples have reached out to say they’re happily together thanks to the site.
Rena shoots me a look. “You must be smart or something.”
“My girlfriend tells me I am.”
The smirk falls from my face as I turn back to the stage. “Shit, this is stressful.”
She glances past me. “I’m pretty sure that’s a supply closet.”
“So?” I ask, exasperated. Then her meaning dawns on me. “Oh.”
She tugs me into the hallway and to the supply closet door across from the auditorium. She tries the handle, and it’s unlocked. I duck in after her.
In five seconds flat, I’m less concerned about the rebuttal. I’m less concerned about everything because her hand’s working my fly and those red lips are all over mine.
“School… definitely… prepares you… for life,” I grunt, spinning to press her back against a rack of something—balls?—I can’t see in the dark.
She laughs breathily. I devour her, tugging up her skirt and dragging my teeth along her jaw. She finds my cock in my pants, and—surprise, surprise—I’m more than ready to go.
I press inside her, grabbing a metal bar for balance that I hope is attached to the wall.
I curse as I realize it’s not, nearly falling over.
She’s laughing at me, and I’m grinning too, but I’m so far gone it doesn’t matter. With renewed intention, I shift her into the rack and thrust.
Rena’s moaning, and I cover her mouth with mi
ne. I take the kiss, deepen it. There’s nothing better in this world than being inside this woman, being part of her. I never thought another person would be what I needed in order to figure out life. But with her, I can’t imagine life any other way.
I’m building her up, and I’m getting there too.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to declare a winner.”
Shit. I keep going.
“And the winner is…”
Rena comes around me, and I go off too because, hell, I can’t stop it. I shake, every muscle flexing as she squeezes me.
My eyes are shut against the world. All I can do is hear.
“Ashford Prep School.”
I groan. “I lost.”
Rena arches a brow. “Did you? Did you really?”
“No,” I agree, shaking my head. “Not so much.”
*Fades to black*
That’s it, y’all. That’s what I have for you.
I hope you enjoyed Wes and Rena’s sweet, slow-burn, opposites attract story!
Think other romance fans might like it too? Consider dropping a quickie review on your favorite book site. You could help someone find their next read. Which is kind of awesome, if you think about it.
I super appreciate you spending this time with me. Want to keep the love-fest rolling? Read on…
Have you read Haley and Jax’s three-part romance WICKED, starting with Good Girl?
I wanted to fall for a boy. Not a man. Not a legend.
The month I wrote my first piece of code, Jax Jamieson launched his third platinum album.
The week I drank my first beer, he spent in jail.
The day I got under his skin, I wound up on his tour.
And the night he gave me his hoodie…
I fell in love forever.
“An all consuming love story that is sure to leave you dazed and a little crazed.” -Rochelle’s Reviews
You can now read WICKED from start to finish! Haley and Jax’s story begins in Good Girl, continues in Bad Girl, and concludes in Wicked Girl. (Good Girl and Bad Girl end in cliffhangers, but the entire series is available now and the payoff’s worth the angst. Promise.)