Page 9 of XOXO, Yours

“What do you kids say now? Is my sister’s situation giving? Is the candy bar bussin’?”

He winces like I’ve stepped on his foot. “Please never say that again.”

“Then peachy stays.”

“Peachy’s great,” he says. “Peachy’s making a comeback.”

I take another bite of candy. My hand is not quite steady, and I press my thumb against the wrapper to hide it.

He keeps looking at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That is twice now you’ve claimed nothing while clearly doing something.”

“I’m just standing here.”

“Judgmentally.”

“I don’t think I’m judging you.”

“Good, because I assure you, whatever conclusions you’re drawing are probably wrong.”

“Okay.”

I narrow my eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re very agreeable.”

His smile comes back, slow, easy, spreading like something warm poured over ice.

“So I’ve been told.”

“It’s annoying.”

“Also been told that. Of course, I am the youngest of five kids, so they pretty much all think I’m annoying.”

I hate how much I like him.

Not just like him. Not like-like him.

Jesus, I don’t even know him. We met four minutes ago over vending machine chocolate, and already I know the exact temperature of his hand.

I mean, I like talking to him.

I definitely like looking at him.

He’s easy in a way that loosens something behind my ribs, and I don’t know how to explain that.

But it feels dangerous.

There’s a certain amount of calculation involved when meeting strangers. You have to figure out, What do they want? Is this going somewhere? Do I want it to?

Payton doesn’t seem to want anything.