“Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room like you don’t know why.” I look up at her after her voice cracked on thelast few words. “I represent everything that your family lost,” her voice trails off with a choked whisper—that sound like a knife through my heart, and she widens the space between us.
“You aren’t your brother,” I tell her after mulling over why I thought I hated her.
“No?”
“No.”
“What do you see when you look at me?” she asks and retraces her step, moving closer.
My eyes move over every inch of her face. From the light dusting of freckles that covers her nose and cheeks, to her baby blue eyes framed by long lashes, and to the blonde hair that’s a shade I never thought I’d come to like looking at. Angela Taylor is the textbook definition of Girl Next Door. But those are the surface-level things that I’m letting define who she is.
“I see someone who’s sad.” I don’t miss the trembling of her chin or the sheen of tears forming in her eyes when I point it out. Her spine straightens as she attempts to put her mask back on. I step closer, leaving only inches between us, and bring my hand up to lightly cup her cheek.
“Of course I’m sad. I ha—have no one anymore.” Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine and I catch a stray tear with my thumb as it falls.
It tears me up to hear that she’s alone. I may not be as close to my brothers due to age differences, but at least I have them. She’s an only child now. And while our families were close, Angela and I were practically strangers. Our ages were a big factor and our hobbies never once intersected—me with video games and her with piano. Still, something about who she is today makes me want to be around her and never leave.
“What about your friends?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head and I want to know how. I don’t have a ton of friends myself, but I have Carter.
“I can be your friend. If you’ll let me.”
“You hate me,” she whispers.
“I thought I did,” I admit, and it’s true. I heard the whispers behind closed doors about the Taylors from my parents and it fed into my thinking when it came to them.
“What changed so quickly? How can you be friends with someone who is a constant reminder of what your family lost?”
My hand has stayed on her face with my thumb gently moving back and forth over her soft skin. “My anger was displaced. And it’s clear that you are the opposite of who your brother was.”
“It can’t be that simple, Brandon,” she says and backs a step away from me.
“Why not?”
“Can you honestly not look at me and not see my brother?”
“No. In fact, the minute we locked eyes all those months ago, how I felt about you was erased. I became less charged with hate for you and more charged with the need to get to know the sad girl I saw standing at the bar.”
Her shoulders fall at the realization that I saw her. I saw what she so desperately tried to hide behind the work outfit. “I don’t know about any of this, Brandon. For so long, you’ve been this elusive being who’s now wanting to come into my life. It feels kind of out of nowhere.”
“Isn’t that what friendship is?” I ask.
“You know that’s not what you’re thinking about.”
“You’re right. I’m thinking that I want to kiss you again,” I blurt out. My heart is thudding in my chest as I admit that.Why do I want to kiss her? That’s a great question. But after that one kiss in this spot a month ago, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.
“You can’t,” she says while looking at the ground.
“Why not?” I ask and wait in anticipation for the answer that she’ll give me. I’ve never had a pressing desire for anything. But her? That’s changed.
Angie looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You know why. Brandon, we are practically strangers to each other. And you can use the ‘Our families knew each other’ reasoning, but until last month, we had never spoken a word to each other. Now you’re here, pursuing me? Why?”
“Because when I looked at you, I saw myself. I saw my anger and pain mirrored in you.”
“So, what? Is this some sort of trauma bond?”
I shake my head. “No. Not even close.”
