I toss Nev the shorts. “These used to be my favorites, but I can’t fit into them anymore.”
She gapes at the shorts. For a moment, I’m not sure if she’ll don them, but then she takes them back to her bedroom. A minute later, she’s back. Although a little loose, the shorts look a heck of a lot better than the gray sweatpants. Her gaze moves over the full-length mirror, before landing on her mother’s poster next to it.
I really should take the poster down.
“Thank you.” Her arms go around my neck so suddenly that I emit a little choking sound.
I smile into the chlorine scent of her hair and pat her back.
“Thank you for being nice to me, Angie.”
I press her away. “Don’t ever thank someone for being nice to you!”
She gnaws on her bottom lip. “Not many people are.”
“Because you hide from them. You should let people see the real you.”
Her eyes silver as they return to her mother’s poster. “Maybe.”
30
Crushing My Crush
Since a thunderstorm has been buffeting Nashville since dawn, Nev and I have become one with the living room couch. While we watch Netflix, alternately tossing popcorn into our mouths and at each other, Mom reads a book, drinking chai tea and rolling her eyes at our antics. The house smells delicious, like cloves and melted butter—the scent of lazy days.
As a new bag of popcorn bloats in the microwave, the kernels snapping like the rain against the window, I spy a big black car turning into our driveway.
I draw the front door open before Ten even has time to ring.
He stands on the doormat, rain trickling down the sides of his face. His hair’s all mussed, as though he’s just rolled out of bed, but if he’s rolled out of anywhere, it’s probably an airplane.
“How was your trip?” I ask.
“Good. How was your…girls’weekend?”
“Nev survived, so there’s that.”
He doesn’t smile, but his stiff jaw softens. He didn’t shave over the weekend.
“Is she ready to go?”
“Who is it, baby?” The floorboards squeak as my mother walks overto us. “Oh, hi, Ten. How did all your visits go? Did you find the school of your dreams?”
“I did.”
“Which one?”
“Cornell.”
“Ooh. That’s such a great school,” Mom gushes, then peeks beyond him. “Where’s your dad?”
“He ended up prolonging his trip. He had some meetings in the city. He said he’d call you later.”
“Where are our manners? Come right on in.” Mom steps aside. “Nev, your brother’s here!” she calls out louder than necessary. Unlike the Dylans’ mansion, our house is normal-sized. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Ten strides over the threshold. “Just some water, please.”
As the door snicks shut behind him, he gazes around, takes in the kitchen, the staircase, and finally the living room. Our home is stylish but must seem dwarf-sized to him. I cross my arms and scrutinize his expression, but can’t figure out what he’s thinking.
