I shrug, like it’s nothing, even though I remember exactly how close he’d been when I touched his arm.
“It’s nothing. You just have to know how to talk to girls.”
His mouth ticks at the corner, like he’s not entirely convinced. “Yeah?”
I tilt my head, studying him for a second. “I mean…you know how to talk to women.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile there. “Yeah. Kinda. But for Emma’s team, I’m gonna need a manual for that.”
“Right,” I say, a little sharper than I intend. “Because instructions work out well, huh?”
Something in my tone hangs there longer than I want it to.
“You okay?” he asks, quieter now. “You seem frustrated.”
“I’m in a towel, Ty. And only a towel.”
“But it’s more than that,” he says, dark eyes boring right through me. “I know it sounds weird, but it feels like your energy is frenetic. More….taut than I’ve seen before.”
What is this guy, some kind of empath? Could he be picking up on my call with my mom? Or just the fact that I am in the circumstance I’m in? I’m too tired to unpack any more, so I swallow, nodding once.
“You’re picking up on the fact I’m mildly humiliated. You know. Standard.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “If it helps, I don’t think you’re pulling off ‘mildly.’”
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Goals.”
The side door clicks open behind us.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Liam calls, “we are back in business.”
I close my eyes for half a second in relief.
“Best sentence I’ve heard all day,” I sing out, ready to get back inside.
“Vivian,” Liam says, dragging out my name like he’s about to ruin my life on purpose, “get in the house. The neighborhood has seen enough of you.”
I glare at him as he slips out of the doorway and dances around me. “You’re dead to me.”
“Get inside,” he says, grinning, giving me a tiny playful shove. “Mrs. Hargrove across the street is going to file a formal complaint.”
I swat Liam’s shoulder, then turn my attention to that glorious open and unlocked door, making my way back inside. And then, because apparently I’m incapable of learning, I brush past Ty a little too closely on my way inside. There’s something in his expression I can’t quite pin down. It’s not amusement, nor is it that steady way he looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out. This time, there’s something warmer. Something there that makes my stomach do a very inconvenient little flip.
For a second, neither of us says anything. Which is worse.
“Thanks,” I say finally. “You know. For the chat and all that.”
His gaze flicks to my face, then back to my eyes. “Anytime.”
I swallow, suddenly very aware of the fact that I am still in a towel, standing for all the world to see, and clearly having a moment.
“Goodnight, Ty.”
“Night, Vivian.”
I turn before I can make it weird. More weird. Maximum weird has already been achieved.
I slip inside, pushing the door shut behind me, and the second it clicks closed, I lean back against it, pressing my side against the wood like I need to steady myself.
