My phone buzzed a second time.Why.
No reason, I replied.
What are you doing?he texted.
Nothing.
I’m heading back now.
Ok. Cool.
I put my phone down and set up the coffee table, then placed down bowls of pasta. I sat on the couch, then quickly stood up, because it felt too much like I was a 1950s housewife waiting for my husband to get back from work. I killed time cleaning the kitchenette, even though I’d already cleaned everything. Oh well. There was nothing to lose from wiping the kitchen counter down another time.
Taylor walked in, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. He looked at me, then at the coffee table.
“Made you dinner,” I said.
“Did you poison it?” But there was the tiniest lift to the corner of his lips.
“Listen,” I said, when we had both sat down and started eating, and neither of us had thrown up or gagged. “I’m only doing this because you cooked me breakfast the other day. I don’t want to be in your debt.”
“What if I want that?”
“Huh?”
“What if I want you in my debt?”
“You’re the type of person who wants everyone in their debt,” I pointed out.
He shrugged, chewing. “It tastes good.”
“Thanks.” It actually did taste nice. I hadn’t burned anything. “I asked my mum to help me.”
“How is she?”
I shot him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?” I asked.
“It’s the polite thing to ask?” he said. “Your mum seems nice.”
“She is.” There wasn’t much else to say. My parents were as perfect as parents could be. My mum did way too much for me, and my dad was endlessly chill. The only time I could remember him raising his voice at me was when I was eight and had been about to run onto the road to chase a soccer ball.
“How are your parents?” I asked, because Taylor was right. It was the polite thing to ask.
“Fine.” His tone was flat.
Alright then. I shovelled more pasta into my mouth.
“Your mum’s so nice, it’s weird that you’re related to her,” Taylor said suddenly.
“Piss off. I can be nice.”
He raised his brows.
“Just not to you.”
“Hm.” His eyes seemed to go blurry, like he was reminiscing. “It’s strange, how you weren’t nice, even when we…”
I knew what he was thinking of. How had I spoken to him that night?Just hurry up and fuck me.
