Her Name On His Jersey

Wren

The universe has a sick sense of humor.

I know this because on the worst Monday of my entire sixteen years of life, I showed up to my new babysitting job wearing a mustard-stained hoodie and carrying a backpack that smelled like library books and quiet desperation.

I stood on the porch of 14 Briarwood Lane and checked the address three times on my phone.

My hands were shaking. They always shook when I was nervous.

This was it. The job that would save me and Mom from getting evicted.

Again.

I knocked once. Soft. Like I was apologizing for existing.

The door swung open.

And Cole Hensley was standing there.

Cole. Hensley.

Captain of the football team. Most popular boy at Westbrook High School. The boy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be.

The same boy who six hours ago stood in the cafeteria and watched Tyler Bracks dump a chocolate milkshake on my head while the entire lunch room laughed.

He didn't just watch. He laughed too. Then he pulled out his phone and recorded it. Posted it to his Instagram story with the caption "Mondays hit different."

I watched it get eight hundred and forty-seven likes before I deleted the app and cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes.

Now he was staring at me. And I was staring back.

My brain stopped working.

"No," I whispered. Then louder. "No no no."

This couldn't be happening. This was a mistake. A terrible, cosmic mistake.

"Wren Davis?" Cole's voice was flat. Confused. Not mean yet. Just shocked.

I took a step back. My shoe caught on the edge of the welcome mat and I stumbled. Caught myself on the porch railing. My face burned hot.

"You have the wrong house," I said quickly.

"No I live here. He said."

"Then I have the wrong house."

I turned around. My hands fumbled with my phone.

I would call Mrs. Hensley right now and explain that there was a misunderstanding. A huge misunderstanding. I would go home and eat cereal for dinner and pretend this never happened.

Mom didn't have to know.

"Wren. Cole called."

I stopped. Not because he told me to. But because something in his voice sounded different than it did at school. Softer maybe. Or just less cruel.

I turned back slowly.

He was standing in the doorway holding a dish towel. Twisting it in his hands like he didn't know what to do with them.

"My mom hired you?" he asked.

"Apparently." The word came out smaller than I wanted.

He ran a hand through his hair. It was still perfect. Everything about Cole Hensley was always perfect. The jaw. The shoulders. The stupid golden skin that looked like someone painted him to ruin lives.

"How old are you?" I asked. My voice came out quiet. Timid. I hated how I sounded.

"Seventeen. He said."

"Then why does your mom need a babysitter?"

He stepped aside.

That's when I heard it. A shriek. A crash. The sound of something expensive breaking.

"That's why," he said.

I looked past him into the house.

The living room was chaos. Beautiful chaos. The furniture looked expensive but there were toys everywhere.

Crackers ground into the carpet. Crayons scattered across the floor. A sock somehow stuck to the ceiling fan.

Two kids, a boy and a girl, maybe five and seven were chasing each other around a cream-colored couch. One had a spatula. The other had a sock. Both were screaming.

"STOP!" Cole's voice boomed through the house.

They stopped immediately.

They turned and looked at him. Then at me.

The little girl's face split into the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

"Is she the new one?" she asked.

"The new what?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"Babysitter," the boy said. He stared at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "The last one cried."

"Jake," Cole said sharply.

"What? She did. You said so."

Cole's face turned red. He rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn't look at me.

"This is Wren," he said to the kids. His voice was tight. "She's going to watch you while Mom works nights."

"Nights?" I looked at him. "Like more than one night?"

"My mom's a nurse. She works night shifts at Mercy General. Three or four nights a week." He crossed his arms. "She said she explained this."

She had not explained this.

Mrs. Hensley said flexible hours and live-in arrangement and I heard good money and private room and said yes before she even finished talking because Mom was two months behind on rent and I needed this job like I needed oxygen.

Live-in.

I was going to live here. In this house. With Cole Hensley.

My stomach twisted.

"I have school," I said quietly.

"So do I, Cole said. You leave before me and come back after." He said it like it was simple. Like living with the boy who laughed while someone poured a milkshake on your head was normal.

"Cole." I looked down at my shoes. Couldn't make myself look at his face. "You poured chocolate milkshake at me today."

Silence.

I forced myself to look up.

His arms dropped to his sides. The dish towel fell to the floor.

"I didn't pour it," he said.

"But you laughed."

Something moved across his face. Fast. Gone before I could understand it.

"I know," he said. So quiet I almost didn't hear.

I didn't know what to do with that. With Cole Hensley looking at me like that and saying I know in a voice that sounded almost sorry.

The little girl, Mia walked over and grabbed my hand.

"Do you know how to braid hair?" she asked.

I looked down. She had Cole's eyes. Dark green and serious. She was missing a front tooth. Had spaghetti sauce on her shirt.

Something in my chest hurt in a good way.

"Yeah," I said. "I can braid hair."

Her whole face lit up.

The boy, Jake lost interest and went back to his spatula.

Cole was watching me. I could feel it even though I wasn't looking at him.

"I have rules," I said. Still looking at Mia. Not at him. Never at him. "At school we don't know each other. This stays here. I'm not your friend. I'm not your charity case. I'm just the babysitter."

Silence stretched between us.

"Deal?" I finally looked up.

He was staring at me like I was something he didn't understand. Something he wanted to figure out.

"Deal," he said.

I nodded. I tried to breathe normal. Tried to look like my heart wasn't trying to break out of my chest.

"Where's my room?"

He led me upstairs without saying anything.

The room was small. Clean. Better than I expected. It had a window that looked over the backyard and a quilt that smelled like lavender.

The door closed behind me.

I sat on the edge of the bed. Put my face in my hands. Let myself panic for exactly sixty seconds.

Then I stood up. Took a deep breath. And wen

t back downstairs to braid Mia's hair.

Because I needed this job.

And I didn't get to say no to things I needed.

Even when they terrified me.