“Smells amazing,” Abel said from behind me, and even though I didn’t want to smile, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Well, it sucks, so don’t get your expectations up too high,” I joked as everyone else filed in.
I nodded to Adam and Sean, who stood in the doorway.
Abel pulled open a few drawers until he found the silverware and grabbed enough for everyone. Trish got the dishes and set them out on our small table. There were only seats for four, but I was fine with not sitting with them. I wanted to lock myself in my bedroom anyway. I dished out a small portion for myself and set the pot in the middle of the table so everyone could help themselves. Adam, Sean, and Trish sat down and began rambling to each other about nothing in particular. Abel dished out his food and leaned against the counter next to me as he watched his friends talk.
“Sit,” I said between bites, and he glanced at me before looking back at his friends.
“You sit.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t move toward the chair, and neither did he. “You’re stubborn.” I took another bite.
“I could say the same about you.” He wrapped half the noodles in his bowl around his fork and shoved the entire bite into his mouth.
“Are all people from California so rude?”
He shrugged. “Not as bad as the bitches from Mississippi.”
“Burn.” I rolled my eyes and turned around to put my bowl in the sink. I turned on the water and ran my bowl under it to rinse out the sauce. Abel turned around next to me, his side pressed against mine as he put his bowl under the stream, pushing mine out of the way. I pushed back, and a small laugh escaped me, even though I was trying my hardest to scowl at him. He glanced at me, a crooked grin on his lips.
“Fine. You can wash the dishes,” I told him. I walked away, hating how frustratingly adorable he was. I lay down across my bed and grabbed my cell phone, finding “Wrecking Ball” on my playlist before putting on my headphones and closing my eyes.
I gave myself permission to imagine Brock’s face—his eyes, dark gray like a storm cloud, charged and ready to wreak havoc; his hair brown like my natural color but buzzed short. His body was thick with muscles, and he was a few inches taller than me, so I would have to stand on my toes to kiss him. I smiled as I heard his voice calling me “Bird.”
“This music is torture, Bird.” Brock had a pained look on his face, and I couldn’t hold in my giggle.
“It’s not that bad.” I hummed along to “When I’m Gone,” which was playing on the radio in the gym at the shelter.
“You’re killing me. We can’t be friends anymore,” he joked, as he bounced a basketball, the sound echoing in the cavernous room.
“If you stop being my friend, I will kill you.” I took a step toward him. “Slowly…” Another step. “Painfully…” I snatched the basketball from the air and haphazardly dribbled it down the court as I laughed.
“You’re cheating, Bird. You can’t distract me with threats. I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon. Ms. Deb?” he called out to one of the workers, who looked over at us. “Bird is cheating.”
I glared back at him and stuck out my tongue as I bent my knees and tossed the ball toward the basket. It bounced off the backboard and fell to the floor. Brock laughed so hard that he was clutching his stomach.
“Never mind, Ms. Deb. She sucks anyway.”
Ms. Deb shook her head as she wrote on a clipboard she held in her hand. “Don’t use that kind of language, Mr. Ryan.”
“Sorry, Ms. Deb,” he replied sarcastically, and I giggled as I chased after the ball.
The headphones were pulled from my ears, and I jumped, pushing up onto my elbows, as the storm in Brock’s eyes was replaced with calm waters. “What are you doing in here?” I asked, as Abel took a step back.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was looking for the bathroom. I thought you were sleeping, but you smiled, and I noticed the headphones.” He ran his hand through his messy hair. “What are you listening to?”
“Your lame excuses.” I rolled my eyes as I pulled my headphones off completely, and the dimples in his cheeks deepened.
He took another step back toward my door but stopped and turned back to me. “Thank you for dinner. It was great. I can’t remember the last time I had a home‐cooked meal.”
I searched his face for sarcasm, but he was being sincere, and for a moment, I saw what looked like sadness in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.
“You’re welcome,” I said, as he disappeared into the hallway. I put my headphones back on and replayed the song, but I didn’t close my eyes. I could only take the memories of Brock in small doses without breaking down. I tried to focus on the good—his touch, the sound of his voice—but every part of my life back then was laced with the bad. I’d reached my limit for the day. I took off the headphones and tossed them onto my pillow, not sure what I would do with the rest of my night. It was Saturday, and that usually meant we’d be off at a bar or club somewhere. I hoped everyone would leave soon, and maybe I could relax with a good book.
I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the bathroom. As I opened the door, Abel turned toward the shower and zipped up his pants.
“Jesus! Shit! I’m so sorry.” I yanked the door to close it, but he grabbed hold and pulled it wide open.
“Wow. Was it that disappointing?” He laughed, and my face burned with embarrassment.
“I didn’t see anything.” I was mortified.
“You really know how to hurt a man’s ego.”
“I didn’t know you were in here.” I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I stared at the way his shirt stretched across his chest muscles, which only made me blush deeper.
“I just told you a minute ago.” His eyebrow cocked, and I couldn’t help scowl at him.
“Maybe I was ignoring you,” I said. “It’s hard not to block out your ramblings.”
His head tilted to the side, and his fingers came under my chin to force me to look up at his face. “Lie.”
“What?” I said, when he didn’t continue after saying my name.
“That is a lie. You couldn’t ignore me if you tried.” He winked and walked around me before I could come up with a witty comeback. What an asshole.
I went into the bathroom and closed the door a little harder than necessary. I glanced into the mirror over the sink, and sure enough, my cheeks were tinted pink.
I splashed cold water on my face and forced myself to leave the safety of the bathroom. I headed to the living room to grab my Kindle, ignoring everyone.
“Lie, we’re gonna go out for drinks,” Trish called from the couch.
“Have fun.” I began to walk out of the room as she giggled.
“No. We are going out for drinks. Get dressed.”
I stopped walking and turned back to look at her. “I am dressed.” I had on my favorite pair of torn‐up jeans and a tank top. That was as dressed up as I felt like getting, but I knew by Trish’s expression that she wasn’t going to drop it. Heaven forbid I go out dressed like a normal person and embarrass her.
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll change.” I left before she could add any advice regarding what I should wear and went to my room. I stared at my closet, fighting back the urge to pull out my keepsake box. Instead I grabbed the first thing my fingers landed on, a thin gray dress that came up to my midthigh with a thick black belt around the waist. The color matched my contact lenses; I hated my plain‐Jane brown eyes. I grabbed a pair of black strappy sandals and quickly discarded my old clothes and threw on my dress. I left my hair down and ran my hands through it to detangle it.
I stepped back out of my room only to find the three guys on the couch. Trish had gone to primp, and I knew we may have to wait an hour until she came back.
“Can I smoke in here?” Abel asked, and I shook my head. He pushed up from his seat and walked toward me. “Show me where?”
“Sure.” I took him to the back of the kitchen, where our fire escape was. You could crawl out the oversize window to the landing. I spent a lot of time out there when I read or just to get some fresh air and sunshine. I wobbled on my heels as I climbed through the opening, and Abel grabbed my hips from behind to steady me.
“Sorry,” he said, as he climbed out next to me, standing entirely too close to me on the tiny platform. I could tell from his playful expression he wasn’t the least bit regretful.
He pulled a cigarette from his pack and held it out to me. I took it even though I usually only smoked if I was partying. He held a lighter to my face, and I inhaled as he lit it, his eyes locked on mine; he looked like he was deep in thought.
“What?” I asked, as I blew out a puff of smoke. He took the cigarette from me to take a drag instead of lighting his own.
“You don’t really like Trish.”
It wasn’t a question, but I felt the need to defend my friendship. Yes, we were an odd pairing, but she helped me move past the person I was by allowing me into her life, and I wasn’t a bully and wouldn’t bad‐mouth her to the boy she liked.
“I like her. We’re friends.” I shrugged and took the cigarette back. His eyes were trained on my lips as I inhaled. I hated his confidence and the arrogant way he spoke, but something under the sarcastic remarks kept me interested in who he really was.
“Friendship goes both ways,” Abel said.
“Are those guys your real friends?”
He shook his head, his hand dragging through his messy hair. “They were there for me when I needed someone.”
“And now? You don’t need anyone? So…what? You just cast them aside?”
“I didn’t say that.” Just like that, the serious conversation had ended, and the flirty mask he wore was back in place.
“Why did you leave California?” I took another drag, but he grabbed the cigarette as it was at my lips.
“You ask a lot of questions. That’s how I know you aren’t like her. Do you think Trish gives a shit about where I came from?”
“Whatever. It’s impossible to have a normal conversation with anyone here.” I was exasperated. I moved toward the window, but he stepped to the side to block it.
I groaned but looked at him, waiting for a sarcastic retort. “You look nice,” he said. I narrowed my eyes, but the punch line didn’t come. Instead he leaned closer, his smoky mint breath on my cheek. “You looked just as sexy in those jeans.”
My eyes met his, and I thought I was hallucinating, but his face was serious, and I immediately averted my eyes to the window. I pushed around him, and he moved out of my way as I slid it back open. As I climbed through, I couldn’t resist throwing a jab at him. “Just not good enough to kiss, right?” I slid the window closed behind me before he could respond.
Trish was ready to go and waiting in the living room for us. A few minutes after I came in, Abel followed, and the popular‐asshole persona was firmly in place.
“Let’s go party,” he called out, and his friends cheered and shoved each other toward the front door. I rolled my eyes but followed behind because that was what I did. I was always the extra wheel.
We made our way downstairs, and out front was a sleek, black Barracuda. Classic cars had a spot in my heart because that was all Brock ever talked about getting.
“We’ll take my car,” Abel said, as he pulled open his door.
“Much better than that rusty old truck,” I said under my breath.
“There you go. Now you sound just like her,” Abel replied just as quietly.
Trish made her way to the passenger side and slid into the seat. I waited for the other guys to climb into the back from the driver’s side. As I prepared to follow, Abel slid the seat back and motioned for me to sit in the center of the front bench seat. “I can’t let you sit back there with those fucking pervs. Your boyfriend would kill me.”