Page 22 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

Charlie gives me a long look. “No, you didn’t. You’re as bad a liar now as you ever were, Troy Heaton. You went out and bought all of those things, didn’t you? Oh, Lord. That must have cost a fortune.”

I raise my hands to stop her from getting herself more flustered. “First of all, it did not cost a fortune. Second of all, it was all the stuff I was going to have to buy sooner or later when I get my own wheels.”

“Yes, sooner or later,” Charlie argues. “Not now.” She turns away toward the house. “I need to get my purse.”

“Charlie. Wait.”

But she ignores my protest and carries on toward the house. I have no choice but to follow her. She’s left the door open, but I don’t go inside. I haven’t been invited, and thus, I wait on the doorstep. When she returns, she’s rooting around in her purse and mumbling to herself.

“Charlie, please,” I say, my hands raised once again. “I don’t want any money.”

“I don’t care,” she replies. “You’ve gone out and bought tools just to fix my car. If nothing else, I need to pay for your time.”

“No, you don’t,” I argue. “In fact, if you try to give me money, I’ll be insulted.”

She lifts her head up and looks at me. “So?”

“I’ll be offended,” I try again.

“And?” she presses.

“If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s your stubbornness,” I counter.

“Stubborn I may be, but I won’t take advantage of your help. I know what you’re doing, Troy.”

Her words halt me, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. Has she figured out that I’m trying to win her back? Have my actions been that blatant?

“And what am I doing?” I ask, nearly terrified to hear the answer.

“It’s obvious. You’re trying to make up for…” she trails off.

Her face falls, and in that second, I see the pain I’ve caused her. Not all of it. Up until now, she’s been so guarded around me that her emotions over what I’ve done to her have been tightly bound inside. But for a split second, I see the chink in her armor, and beaming out of it is the remnants of the anguish she felt. The anguish I’ve caused.

And then it’s gone. In the blink of an eye.

Selfishly, I don’t want to see it again. At some point, we need to talk about it, especially if I want to win her back. But I’m just not ready yet. Instead of acknowledging it, I say, “Okay. Here’s a compromise. When the restaurant opens, I’ll charge you double for your first meal. How does that sound?”

She’s looking at me with an expression of disbelief. “Who says I’m going to come and eat at your restaurant in the first place?”

I’m a little hurt, but I hide it. I just assumed she would, given our history and the way she looked the other day when I dragged Milly out of her house.

“Well, I, you know…” I fumble.

She suddenly grins. “I’m joking, Troy. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Then, without giving me a chance to react, her face changes again. “But I know what you did to my car would have cost a fortune, and paying double for one meal just won’t cover it.”

“Then buy two,” I quip without missing a beat.

She tilts her head to the side and shakes it. “You are incorrigible. Do you know that?”

“If I knew what the word meant, I might,” I say, smirking back.

“Uh-huh,” she counters, clearly not believing me. “Don’t give me that. You were always terrible at math, but I know English was your forte.”

I shrug and play dumb. “You mean, when I wasn’t playing hooky and messing around with cars?”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t a waste,” she replies, throwing a hand out to the vehicle standing beside us.

There is an awkward moment then, with neither of us knowing what else to say. And as time goes on, I realize that I need to get out of here.

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