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“Oh, no? What a shame. I’m so totally devastated,” I said as sarcastically as I could before turning back to carry on working.

He hovered behind me for a few seconds, as if he couldn’t figure out what to do now. Whether to keep trying to buddy up to me or cut his losses. It didn’t feel like he was just clueless, though—too stupid to realize how mean and insulting he was being. No, he knew. It was just some weird, disturbing need to make people he’d decided were worthy of his friendship like him no matter the cost, and an even more disturbing need to alienate the people he’d decided were not.

Eventually, he went back to his station without another word. We worked in silence for a long time, but at some point, as if he’d been reset like a robot, he seemed to simply forget the entire conversation. He started chatting to me again about whatever popped into his head. Trying to ingratiate himself with me once more. Telling me about his buddies, assuring me I’d get on so well with all of them, listing which of Tiff’s friends were single.

I didn’t respond once, but it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t stop him. For the first time since starting this job, I actively counted down the minutes until the end of my shift. Not even knowing that Elliot was next door, on the other side of the wall right in front of me, made it bearable.

I’d rather be at home eating my mom’s awful tuna noodle casserole than stuck here listening to Brett for the rest of the evening. My shoulders sagged in relief when Daphne walked into the kitchen at five minutes to five, and we shared a look that told me she felt my pain over being stuck alone with Brett all day. The moment the clock struck five, I was out of there.

Elliot was waiting for me in the office to say goodbye when I went to collect my stuff, but Liz stepped out of her tiny office to ask him something just as I got there, so all we could do was give each other a casual wave as I grabbed my backpack.

I hadn’t been able to touch him at all today. Not even once. It felt wrong. On par with going without water or food for an entire day.

I missed him the moment he was out of sight.

Chapter Twelve

Ricky

As it turned out, I’d underestimated just how bad my mom’s tuna noodle casserole was, because being stuck in the kitchen at work with Brett was suddenly looking like the preferable option.

I tried to be as independent as I could, so I didn’t eat dinner with my family all that often, especially now I was usually working late most evenings. I liked to cook for myself and make my own schedule. I was too old to still be living at home, in my opinion, and my mom didn’t seem to have realized yet that I was no longer a child who needed permission to do anything. I had to remind her often that I was, in fact, an adult, and when she grilled me about every aspect of my life every time I did join a family dinner, I also had to let her know that it didn’t really make it an enjoyable experience, or one I wanted to repeat often.

Plus, my little sisters were so freaking loud and so totally annoying. Had I been that annoying as a teenager? I didn’t think so. I was a lot quieter than them. And I’d been a lot less spoiled. They had their own phone in their room. I didn’t. Maybe if I did, I would’ve gotten Elliot’s number earlier so I could’ve called him. But there was no way I was going to speak to him in the hallway, with my mom shamelessly eavesdropping from the living room next door.

I cleared my plate and went upstairs as soon as I could get away with it without being chastised by Mom for being rude. I just couldn’t take any more probing questions about every single one of my new work colleagues—a poorly disguised recon operation by my mom to try and figure out if there were any potential candidates for a girlfriend for me at Broth with a Bite.

I took a long shower to kill some time, the Elliot-less evening stretching endlessly out before me. But it was still early when I got back into my bedroom, and I had no idea what to do with myself. I dried my hair, and I heard my mom yelling for me from downstairs the moment I switched off the hairdryer. Tugging open my door, I leaned into the hallway and yelled back, “Yeah?”

I heard her huff from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve been calling for you for five minutes.”

I briefly clenched my jaw to hold back the various responses I could’ve given to that. You could hear that the hairdryer was on. You knew my door was shut. You could’ve just come upstairs and knocked. Instead, I took a breath and asked, “What’s up?”

“Have you done your laundry?”

My jaw tightened again, just for a second. “Uh-huh.”

“Because I’m doing the girls’ tomorrow, and I don’t want to open the washer and find a bunch of your wet clothes in there.”

Tighten. Relax. “You won’t, because I’ve already done it.”

“Just because you forget to move your laundry to the dryer all the time, honey.”

Could teeth shatter if clenched together too hard? “I did that once. And it’s already all folded and put away.”

“Okay.” Pause. “Have you brought down all the dirty dishes from your room? I want to turn the dishwasher on.”

“I don’t have any dirty dishes in my room, Mom,” I said as calmly as I could.

I heard her snort. “Really? Given how much time you spend locked away in there, I find that hard to believe. Do you think you’ll come downstairs and spend some time with your family any time soon, hon?” she asked sardonically.

Another deep breath. Another conscious effort to unclench my jaw. “The girls are in their room.” I could hear them in there.

“The girls are on the phone to their friends.”

I briefly closed my eyes, before they popped open again when I came to an abrupt decision. “Actually, I’m going out tonight.”

There was a pause, followed by “Out?” said in a disbelieving tone.