“I’ve got a hole in my jeans.”
“I’m sure we can fix it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Just let me in?”
“I’m in my underwear.”
“It’s okay.”
I sighed.
And then I got off the toilet seat and hid behind the door as I unlocked it and swung it inward.
Landon squeezed through the gap and then closed the door behind me. He looked down at the shredded jeans in my hands.
And then his eyes kept going, down toward my underwear.
My leg hairs stood on end.
Landon’s eyes snapped back up to mine.
“I don’t think we can fix them,” he said.
“What am I going to do?”
He almost glanced toward my underwear again. Like maybe he didn’t realize he was doing it.
“Alexis might have some safety pins or something. And I think we have an apron somewhere. You could cover up with that.”
My lip quivered.
“Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“You are.” He stepped closer to me, so close he pressed my hands—still holding my jeans—back against me. “But you don’t need to be. It’s just me.”
He leaned up to kiss me, but I scooched back.
Landon’s face fell. “You are mad at me.” He rocked back onto his heels. “I said I was sorry.”
“I...”
“It’s like I can’t ever do anything right for you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then what?”
“I mean. Yeah. What you did hurt.” I hated how my voice wobbled. “I was already cleaning up and you just yelled at me in front of everybody. Instead of helping me out or... like, doing it yourself. And I’ve been trying to keep up with everyone needing ten things at once, and I barely got any sleep for worrying about my dad, and it’s been a really tough day. Okay?”
I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.
Landon looked at his feet.
The silence between us hung fragile and tender.
