I nod, the face I show on the outside a little proud, my inside face nothing but worried about where this is going—and what Houston will think of me the more he learns.
Leah, Leah, Leah.
“Paige got to be the first one to go down the slide, and after that, it became known as her slide. She didn’t name it, the other kids did. They wanted her in charge,” Cass says. I know she’s sharing this because she’s trying to show how proud she is of me. But I also sound like a diva. “It’s always been like that—the kids at school looking to Paige to see what to do next. And if she decided a guy was the it guy, he became the it guy. And then he was hers. And every girl always wanted him. Even when she was done. Because Paige Owen’s exes were still better than any other guy in school.”
“So we’re talking like quarterback, homecoming king stuff, huh?” Houston chuckles. He’s amused by these stories about me. I fear he won’t be for long.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Cass says, chewing with her mouth open. All I feel is embarrassed. “She’s never dated a computer geek, unless of course he was on his way to being a tycoon.”
Maybe it’s her laugh that follows that makes me react. It’s not any different from her normal laugh, but for some reason—at this moment—it strikes me like a cackle. It’s harsh, and I feel small.
“So as you can see, I’m super shallow,” I butt in before Cass says anything more. I speak through a tight smile, my heart sad to hear how my sister sees me. This is how everyone sees me. And they all think I’m fine with it.
“Paige, that’s not what I meant…” Cass says quickly. The laughing has stopped.
I step out from the booth with my purse in my hand and my backpack looped over my shoulder. “I know,” I say, smile still tight. Always. Tight. Everything always perfect. “Stories about me just sort of come out that way, though.”
The table falls silent. I just made things uncomfortable. I’m not sure what she was expecting. That I’d laugh along with her? Or maybe that I’d tease back. That’s all this was—teasing. I guess I’ve outgrown being in the mood for it. Or maybe it’s the fact that Houston was here for it. Maybe…maybe I’m worried about the butterflies and fairytales.
“I’ve got a lot of homework, so I’m going to head back,” I say over my shoulder. “Cass, you can buy my drink.”
I pick up my pace as soon as I exit the building, disappointed in myself—in the person I am, the person I was, and the person who just let that all play out inside the restaurant. My phone chirps, so I pull it from my pocket. It’s Cass.
That all came out wrong. I’m so sorry.
I don’t respond. I know she was just telling stories, trying to be funny, but fuck if it didn’t hurt.
I’m rounding the corner, ready to walk down the fraternity row when I stop in my tracks. The sidewalks are busy, and for a second, I swear I see Carson walking with Chandra. When I focus, though, I realize it isn’t them.
“Hey,” I hear Houston’s familiar voice, his hand brushing against mine. I push my hand into the pocket of my jacket so he can’t touch it again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just bail like that,” I say, still unable to meet his eyes.
“I get it,” he says, his eyes going to my hand, the one I put away. I don’t want to be touched right now. And why would he want to? “I, uh…I’m an only child. So sorry if I’m a little off-base here, but was that what they call sibling rivalry?”
A breathy laugh escapes me.
“Something like that,” I say, my gaze quickly falling to my feet. I can’t seem to shake feeling small.
“You know,” he says, kicking one of his feet into mine. My hand twitches, wanting to be touched, too. It’s betraying me. “Just because computer geeks weren’t your thing before…doesn’t mean they aren’t now. I have a way of converting people, just sayin’.”
I laugh again, this time a little harder, and finally I let myself look at him. His eyes are so kind. He’s so kind. And he sees me so differently.
“Yes, you are the Mr. November of the Computer-Geek Calendar,” I joke. Houston quirks an eyebrow and strikes a ridiculous GQ pose. Any girl on this campus would turn their head when he walked by. In fact, they do—they do all the time. I hate them when they do. As much as he’s nice-guy, computer geek on the inside, his outside is pretty damned opposite. He’s a paradox. Before I can react, he puts a hand on each of my hips, squaring me to him. My heart halts, and I start to look around to see who’s noticing.