That makes me laugh—partly because it’s funny, but more with relief. She laughs, too, and stands up and offers me her hand.
“Come on,” she says. “We didn’t have lunchyet, and you’re buying.”
“Oh, I am?” There’s a warmth in my chest as I take her hand, and it’s not awkward or uncomfortable this time.
“Yup. You totally owe me now.” She winks and lets go of my hand as soon as I’m standing. “Follow me. I know just the place.”
She starts off back down the path toward the lake, and I hesitate for only a second before jogging after her to catch up.
Chapter Fifteen
Nico
I’msomeweirdballof nervous energy when I pull up outside Alex’s house after work. My fingers are buzzing, and I can’t seem to stop my jaw from clenching. The phone conversation I had with Alex has been replaying in my head for the last few hours, and I’ve got myself pretty convinced that my awkward fuckup has probably just ruined the only good thing in my life right now—our friendship.
And that scares the hell out of me.
I turn off my car and pick up my phone from its spot on the passenger seat, flipping it screen up. But it’s the same as it has been since my lunch break was over. No new messages. Not from Alex or from my mom or from anyone else.
The screen is just blank.
And that also scares the hell out of me.
He always texts me in the afternoon. All week long, he’s been texting me random things—pictures or memes or just rows of emojis. Every day this week, I’ve known what I’m coming “home” to. What’s going to be on the table for dinner. Whether his mom’s got chores for us to do. Whether he wants to do something or has plans.
So his silence this afternoon seems much, much too loud.
With a short breath that barely fills my lungs, I stuff the phone into my pocket and stare up toward the house. The empty hollowness in my stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten all day, which also reminds me that we’re supposed to get ice cream tonight, maybe after dinner. And that reminds me how I’m really, really lucky to have a place to live.
Fuck it all if I’ve screwed that up by being honest with my best friend for once.
“I can’t wait to see you tonight.”
Fuck me. Why had I let that slip?
I close my eyes and force a longer breath. Then I climb out of my car and head inside.
His mom is in the kitchen, stirring the contents of a large pot over the stove, and she smiles and waves me over.
“Perfect timing! Alex is up in his room, and I need a taste tester. Here,” she says, and she grabs a clean spoon from the drawer next to her and dips it into the pot. “Broccoli cheddar soup. It’s a new recipe, and I’m not sure whether I added enough cheese.”
Even though I’ve been living here for almost a week now and I’ve known Alex’s mom for years, I’m still thrown off by how she just seems to have welcomed me right into the family. She’s treating me with more kindness and respect than my own mom maybe ever has. And for a few seconds, I can’t really get my feet to move as the weight of that realization settles on my shoulders.
Then she smiles at me again and holds out the spoon. “I think maybe it needs a little more cheddar. What do you think?”
“Um, yeah, I-I can help,” I stutter, and my feet unstick as I manage to make my way through the living room into the kitchen. I take a deep breath as I approach, pulling my hands from my pockets. “I’m not sure I’ve had broccoli cheddar soup before,” I admit.
“Oh, well, even better.” I stop next to her, and I’m just failingmiserably at ignoring the warmth spreading through my chest at her kindness. She hands me the spoon, then adds, “Let me know if you like it. It’s one of my favorite soups, but Alex isn’t too big a fan. So I’ll have more reason to make it if you like it too.”
It’s all too much again, her kindness and generosity, and my hand starts to shake. I quickly try to hide it by forcing the spoon up to my mouth.
I don’t like broccoli. I never have. And my stomach isn’t really in the mood for anything, despite how hungry I am. But the soup tastes so good—thick, creamy, and flavorful with the distinct tang of sharp cheddar—that I just nod. “It’s perfect just how it is. Alex is wrong to not like this.”
That earns me a bright smile, and his mom resumes stirring the soup and then switches off the heat. “Maybe you can convince him to eat it, then,” she says with a chuckle. “Dinner is in five minutes. I just need to heat the bread a bit. Can you tell Alex? I’m not sure what he’s doing upstairs. He’s been up there all afternoon.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I set the spoon in the sink as she starts to get dishes down from the cupboard. Usually Alex would be down here to set the table for her, and the fact that he isn’t makes all the nervousness I was feeling earlier come right back as I turn and make my way up the stairs to Alex’s room.
The door’s shut, which isn’t really normal, either. Usually he leaves it cracked open a few inches.
