My brow furrows. “What happened to you?”
“Got tackled at practice.”
“Are you okay?”
He snorts. “It’s just a turf burn. I’m gonna go shower.”
“Well, make sure you wash it with soap and water and put a fresh bandage on after.”
“Sure thing, doc.”
I roll my eyes. “And then come back down for dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.” Soft steps fade into the silence as he makes his way upstairs.
Did Ty really blow me off like that?
Dollyboy, who has been less than interested in socializing with me, darts down the hall and up the stairs.Traitor.
My gaze slides to the two plates I set out. I know Ty’s been distant, but surely he still needs to eat. It’s dinner time. His fridge looks almost empty, save for the plastic containers of pre-prepped food he whipped up days ago. What kind of guy turns down a fresh meal?
A sinking feeling starts inside. When he invited me to stay with him, I thought he might actually want me here.My eyes trail to the door. It’s right there. I could leave. Pack up dolly, shove everything back into Ol’ Harriet’s trunk, and be on my way. I could drive home… stay with my parents for the night, see Ellie…
Stop it, Avery. Retreat back to your parents’ house? Don’t even think it. You’re staying in the city. You’re staying with Ty, whether he actually likes it or not.
He can’t just invite someone to come live with him and then completely ignore them. Plus, what if something’s wrong? Maybe he needs someone to talk to. I take a cue from Mary. I can be unapologetic. I don’t needeveryoneto like me. Ty and I just have to tolerate each other temporarily. We don’t have to be best friends, but it might be nice if we could at least be cordial.
It’s okay that Ty doesn’t want to be your friend, Avery. Calm yourself.
But it bothers me that he doesn't want to be. Because why not? What’s wrong with me? Maybe Ty would have more friends if he learned to be friendly.
I start my way up the stairs. I’m not living in a house with another guy who ignores me. Been there, done that. Hot-Chad wasn’t so hot to me anymore after I saw the state of his bathroom. I fell out of like fast, and he could tell. But at that point, we were in too deep, and he let me stay for a few more months. Moving in with a man based on desperation is never a good idea. But unfortunately, with my financial woes, it seems to be the only way to stay in the city. It was then, and it is now. At least I’m not dating the guy this time around.
Pushing a stray hair from my eyes, I square my shoulders. There will be no repeat of Dirty-Bathroom-Chad. Imade Ty dinner. And he’s gonna eat it. He’s going to acknowledge me. In the back of my mind, something begins to chip away at my gall. What if he gets mad at me? What if he yells and kicks me out? Ty is intimidating. From everything I’ve gathered over the years, the guys I’ve been around are more prone to outbursts than anything else. The thought gives me pause, and I find myself waffling halfway up the curving staircase.
If something happens, you’ll make it. You always do.
I swallow hard, trying my best to toughen up my exterior as I crest the landing. When I make my way down the corridor and come toe to toe with his door, Dollyboy is already waiting. “Gosh, Dolly. Take a hint.”
He chirps up at me, and I swear there’s judgment in his tone.
Sucking in a deep breath, I reconsider. Maybe I’m the one who needs the hint. Am I intruding? Something tells me that although making someone food is a nice gesture, interrupting them when they clearly want to be in the solitude of their room is not as nice. In fact, it may fall in line with some of the things I’ve heard whispered and shouted at me over the years. I take a moment to collect myself. Am I being intrusive? Or annoying? Am I naive to think he actually doesn’t have any plans for his Saturday night? I take a step back, staring at the stairs longingly. And then the last little piece falls into place, lining up the final name like a Yahtzee game. Am I beingtoo much?
Despite the labels people have placed on me, I’ve managed to salvage my confidence. I know I may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I’ve got to be someone’s. Part of me wonders which category Ty would fall into: the Avery-is-definitely-my-cup-of-tea one or the other. The Avery-is-annoying-no-tea-for-me one. My stomach twists. I know I only met him a handful of days ago, but I kind of hope he likes Avery tea.
Just when I decide to give up, Dollyboy lifts a paw, and before I can stop him, trails his claws down the base of Ty’s door. I gasp in horror at the loud scrape that rings out and dart back over, scooping a displeased Dolly up. My heart pounds. Maybe Ty didn’t hear it. Maybe I’m safe to go back downstairs, forget I was about toforcesomeone to eat my homemade meal, and move on with my night. But alas, Avery Joy Hinkley could never be so lucky.
The door edges open, and soft music—Tom Petty, I think?—echoes from the tiled room attached to his bedroom. His bathroom. It’s then that I notice the soft hiss of his shower. Heat crawls up my neck and settles in my cheeks. Why do I always seem to interrupt him when he’s in the bathroom? I try to keep my head down in hopes he won’t see the blush that’s formed. But now I’m staring at his bare feet, and I’m feeling even more awkward than I did seconds ago. Trailing my gaze from his pasty toes to his face, I attempt to ignore the fact that he is—yet again—shirtless. And standing very close to me. I wonder if he knows his jeans are unbuttoned.
I divert my eyes the second they make contact with the tattoo swirling over his taut chest.
“Yes?” he asks.
“I wanted to tell you I made dinner, and you… You’re welcome to join me.”
His tawny brow arches.
“If you’re hungry,” I amend, opening my eyes.
