And I thought I probably would be.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the morning, I strode into the great room on a mission, approaching a clump of middles. Few of the adults had made it down yet, probably nursing off the side effects of last night’s party. “Has anyone seen Isaac?”
Oliver looked up from his sketchbook. “I think he might be outside?”
I popped into the backyard. Lumpy gray clouds blanketed the sky, and the trees stood out against them, barren save the eternal evergreens. Isaac sat on a decorative bench that I wasn’t sure I’d ever sat on in my life. I shoved my hands deep in my coat as I approached. “Mind if I join you?”
He gave me a quick smile. “What’s up?”
I sat next to him, kicking my feet out in front of me in the snow. “Can we chat about yesterday real quick?”
He looked alarmed. “Uh—sure?”
I braced myself. Having this conversation made me want to curl up and die, but it was important, and it was honest, and it was real. “I had a good time last night,” I said, which, okay, wasnothonest and real, but felt like an acceptable white lie.
He smiled. “Me too.”
Oh no. I was the absolute worst. “But I wasn’t being entirely honest with myself about what I want right now and—I’ve hadsucha crush on you, Isaac, but I sort of figured out—I don’t actually think I’m in the right place to date you. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to date you.” He sounded so appalled I forgot what I was saying for a moment.
I blinked. “What?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I like you! I’m down for—you know. But us dating wouldn’t be a good idea. I mean—you’re hot and confident, but I work for your family.”
Hot! Confident! I couldn’t believe I’d fooled him into thinking I was confident. Apparently fake it till you make it really worked. “Oh. Uh. What did you think we were doing?”
He shook his head. “I dunno. Having fun? I don’t normally do this.”
“Do what?”
He waved a vague hand. “Hook up on vacation.”
Oh. For whatever reason, I’d assumed everyone save me was an expert at hooking up. “Right.” I gave a slow nod.
My previous words seemed to be catching up with him because he peered at me uncertainly. “You have a crush on me? I’m really flattered. But—”
I held up my hands. “It’s okay! That’s what I’m saying! I also don’t want to date.”
“Oh.” He relaxed. “So we’re good hanging out.”
“Right,” I said, then started laughing, a little hysterically. “Only, literally I mean hanging out. I don’t mean hooking up.”
Now he looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay.”
This was awkward, but weirdly having this conversation felt less excruciating than anticipating it. “I’m sorry. I’m probably messing this up. I’m not used to talking about stuff.”
“Nah, it’s good you brought this up. Always better to lay stuff out. I’m cool just being friends.” He looked at me speculatively. “I sort of thought you were into the boy next door.”
The boy next door.I tried to sound casual. “A bit, maybe. But it wouldn’t work out.”
“Why not?”
I cast him a wry look. Did people who had hooked up talk about their other wannabe relationships? Well, I could use a guy’s perspective and advice. “He’s not looking for anything serious.”
“Ah. Got it.”
