“See you tomorrow, kiddo!” Elaine calls to Odette as we’re walking out to our cars.
She sends her mother a wave as I push open the gate for her. She gives me an extra-wide berth, making sure not to brush against me.
Really? That’s how it’s going to be now?
Annoyed, I make sure to walk extra close to her between the houses, and she notices and steps to the side.
I follow.
She moves.
I chase.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks after the third time.
“What amIdoing? You’re the one being weird.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Are not!” She groans. “Ugh, you’re making me sound like a child.”
“Then stop acting like one. You keep moving away from me every chance you get.”
“Because you’re . . . you’re . . . you’re being a butthead!”
I roll my lips together. “A butthead?”
“Yes!”
She huffs, then speeds up, which only makes me laugh. I have at least seven inches on her. Catching up to her is a breeze.
She rolls her eyes when I do. “You’re so annoying.”
“So annoying, yet you still want to come work with me on the barn.”
“I don’twantto. Ihaveto. Someone needs to supervise you.”
I know she’s just being stubborn, and she doesn’t mean in the same way Chelsea used to think I needed supervision because I couldn’t complete things to her liking, but it still sucks to hear.
“And you’ve volunteered for the job.”
“What can I say? I like giving my time to charity.” She shrugs. “I’m a Good Samaritan like that.”
“Sure you are.” I open the door to her BMW, which earns me another eye roll. “What? I’m being a Good Samaritan.”
“Are we done here?” she asks, lips thinned into a straight line.
“We’re done here.”
“Thank god,” she mutters, sliding into the driver’s seat.
She grabs the door, trying to pull it closed, but I stop her.
She huffs. “What is it now, Noah?”
“I just ... I wanted to tell you something.”
