“Then, what? Is it the idea of dating someone forbidden to make Mom and Dad angry? We’re not Romeo and Juliet, Brandon. And I can’t afford to have something weighing on me.”
I wince when she puts it that way. “No. I don’t care what they think.” The truth of that statement hits me in the face.
“Please, don’t do that.”
We face off with each other in the darkening gravel parking lot. I know I’m messed up. I know this obsession with being around her and getting to know her sprouted out of nowhere. But the sound of cars driving past and laughter from people walking on the street is still not enough to break me out of this spell she suddenly has me under. Whether I want to admit it out loud or keep it buried to myself, Angela Taylor has been running amok in my mind for weeks. I want to know what makes her laugh, whatmakes her cry, her fears, her dreams—I want to know everything about her.
“Do what? Say to hell with what my family thinks and offer to be your friend?” I ask, confused.
“You know the last thing you’re thinking about is us being friends.”
“You’re right. Can you honestly say that you felt nothing when we kissed?”
I feel her pulse flutter against my hand at the mention of our kiss. “I felt everything. And that freaked me out because I have felt nothing foryears. But then you come around and it’s like you finally shook me awake.”
My brows furrow and I’m about to ask her what she means by that when she surprises me and rises on her toes, pressing her lips to my cheek.
“Ang—”
“I’m sure you’re used to things coming easily to you. But I’m…a mess.”
I nod. “That’s okay. I like messes.”
She smiles softly and maneuvers herself between me and her car door. “I highly doubt that. I’ll see you around, maybe. Bye, Brandon.”
Angie gets in her car and drives away, leaving me speechless. I had a different plan in mind when I waited out here for her. One that included less talking. But is she right about me? Am I diving into these feelings for her all by myself? This is where my lack of romantic relationships and friendships hurts me. I’m not good at reading cues or anticipating what people may need, but for her, I want to learn.
6
ANGIE
The slamming of the front door wakes me up from the first restful sleep I’ve gotten in way too long. Hurriedly, I climb off my bed and rush to the window overlooking the front of the house, and see my parents backing out of the driveway. This is the first time I’ve seen them when the sun is up, and I can’t say I’m surprised to see them leaving without a word to me. With it being summer, our schedules clash so much that it’s like we’re roommates instead of a family. Once they’re out of view, I mosey back over to my bed and slide under the covers.
I stare up at the ceiling. Losing myself in a memory as my eyes hone in on the speck of maroon paint that is still there from when Liam helped me repaint my room from the baby pink my mom chose. It’s such a simple spot to cover up, but years later, it’s still there.
“Oops,”I heard behind me.
I turned from where I was painting to see Liam looking at the ceiling. “Liam. Mom is gonna freak.”
“I’ll get some white paint to cover it up. She’ll never know.”
I gave him a look that I always gave him before he made a pinky promise. Days and weeks went by, and I realized my brother wasn’t coming to cover up the mistake he made.
My phone chimeson the nightstand, pulling me out of the memory with my brother. It’s one of the more pleasant memories I have with him, when he’s not away or playing baseball, and I’m not immersed in practicing the piano. Or where our parents aren’t putting all their attention on one of us to succeed.
Rolling to the other side of my bed, I pick up my phone and see a text from an unknown number.
Unknown number: Hi, it’s Brandon.
Me: Hi. How did you get my number?
I hesitate for a minute until I decide to save his contact info.
Brandon: It wasn’t hard. There’s not a lot of Angela Taylor’s in Philly.
Me: Creepy.
Brandon: Persistent in wanting to be your friend.
