Despite my protests, Finn walks me to my door. When we arrive, I swipe the QR code in front of the knob and then move to go inside.
“Thanks for the massage and pizza,” I tell him as I stroll in.
Instead of walking away, he lingers in the doorway, staring at me with this weirdly hesitant look.
I spin around to face him. “What’s up, dude?”
He scrubs his hand across his mouth, I think to conceal a smile. Then he straightens, resting his hands on the doorjamb. This causes his shirt to ride up enough that I get a glimpse of his lean abs.
You know when you see a car wreck, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but then you do, and you end up rear-ending the car in front of you? That’s about how my attempt not to stare at his muscles go. I stare, and he notices, and grins.
I make a big show of rolling my eyes. “Whatever. You already know you’re hot.”
“I didn’t even say anything.” He impishly grins then grows all serious again. “You should give me your number.”
“Why?” I ask as I set my bag down by the end table.
He gives a half-shrug. “Just in case.”
I step toward him. “In case what?”
He dramatically sighs. “Just in case I need to get a hold of you or vice versa.”
“Why do I get the feeling this has to do with the whole vanishing act from the other day?” I stop in front of him. When his lips part, probably to tell me to be quiet, I add, “I’ll give you my number. Chill out.”
“You say that like I’m un-chill,” he scoffs, lowering his hands.
“According to you, you’re hot,” I tease with a smirk.
He chuckles. “Goddamn, there you go again, smarting off and turning me on.” Before I can protest that remark, he digs his phone out. “What’s your digits?”
I give them to him, and then we part ways, him heading down the hallway and me closing the door then going into my room.
My phone buzzes with a message from my mom, but I ignore it. However, she relentlessly continues to do so all afternoon. It’s annoying—she’s annoying. She’s ruining my mood that was up, but is now plunging into a low. It makes me thankful I’ll be going out with River soon. I’m also making the decision to block my mom’s number, because nothing good can come from being in contact with her.
I have music playing from my laptop, but the volume is low since my bedroom door is open, and I’m rummaging around for an outfit, trying to convince myself that I’m only changing because the outfit I’m wearing now smells like the chicken sandwich I had for lunch. The reality is I’m being weird about it. This is just a friend thing; I don’t need to look good. River’s seen me sweaty and smelling gross, so who cares what I look like? And yet …
I toss another shirt to the side and dig around some more.
“What’re you doing?” Lily’s amused voice sails over my shoulder.
“Just looking for a pair of pants to wear,” I reply, tossing a pair of socks aside.
“What’s wrong with the pants you’re wearing?”
“They smell like chicken,” I quip, facing her. “Quit insinuating things,” I pretend to scold.
She smirks but doesn’t remark. “So, I talked to my mom, and she called up her friend with the business. She said she’s hiring, and she’d like to interview you. I have her number so you can call and set that up. But, honestly, since my mom vouched for you, you should get hired on the spot.”
I pause from picking up a shirt on the floor. “Why would she vouch for me?”
“Because you’re my friend,” she says, likeduh.
“But I’m a north-sider,” I remind her in an obviously stupid way.
“I already told you that doesn’t matter. My mom’s nice, anyway. Like, I don’t know why she even married my dad—he's a total prick.” She plops down on my bed. “But, anyway, what’re your choices for tonight?”
I tuck locks of hair behind my ear as I glance from the pile of clothes on the floor to her. “I was just going to wear pants and a shirt. We’re only going to a taco truck, and then the lake.”
