Page 14 of Pack Nightmare

“Uh, yeah? I mean, I thought girls liked clothes?” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and diverts his eyes to the window display, filled with fashionable outfits. “You always dress so cute, I just assumed you’d like it…” the spots of color are back on his cheeks, and it makes me my heart flip-flop in my chest.

I haven’t forgotten my first impression of him looking like a broody rock star with those soulful eyes and pouty lips. But knowing how sweet and awkward he actually is feels even better, like a secret between us two.

“I wish I could claim credit for my ‘style’, but I have to lay that firmly on Roxanne,” I confess. “I haven’t picked out a stitch of clothing in my wardrobe. Swear to god. I have the worst fashion sense. But it means a lot that you think I always look cute.” I wrap my free hand around the back of his, and tug him down to my level so I can kiss his cheek. “For future reference, clothes really aren’t my jam. I’d probably wear the same thing every day if I didn’t have a fashionable beta stocking my closet. You have more fashion sense than I do,” I gesture at his outfit. “You always look nice, too.”

The color in his cheeks deepens. “Honestly, Milo picks out most of my clothes. He kind of tosses things at me and tells me to buy them. I don’t even know my own size anymore.”

A laugh barks from my lips. “Now that I do believe. At least he doesn’t dress you like himself. At any rate, he seems to have a handle on your style. It looks good on you.”

“I’ll let him know you think so,” Landon grins.

“Do that. Does he pick out Jared’s clothes, too?” Now I’m curious about the guys’ dynamic. What other quirks do I not know yet?

“Ha, mister ‘brand t-shirt and jeans every day?’ Definitely not. He tried and failed to give Jared a makeover when we were in high school. Jared stopped him straight up.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I think Jared’s mom still picks out his clothes, to be honest. I don’t think Jared cares all that much. He just didn’t want Milo to have his way.”

I snort in amusement—I can see that. “I know you guys all consider yourselves brothers, but they seem to have a more… sibling-like relationship than you do with either of them, if I’m honest.” I tug his hand and we turn, walking back toward the main street.

“If you mean they tease each other a lot, yeah, I’d agree. They like to bicker more than I do. But I wouldn’t say they’re closer than I feel to either of them… it’s just our dynamic.”

“Jared is the goofy jock, Milo is the opinionated, coffee-drinking hipster, and you’re the sweet one.” I smile up at him, but don’t miss the grimace that crosses his face in the wake of my statement. “Oh no, is that bad? I like that you’re sweet!”

He shrugs, dropping his eyes to the ground. “I dunno. I guess it makes me sound kind of boring. My only personality trait is being sweet?”

Embarrassment floods my chest. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re always so thoughtful of everyone around you. I feel you don’t talk about yourself as much. Maybe I should grill you for more details. Tell me more about Landon.”

The color returns to his cheeks. “I dunno what to say. I don’t think I’m very interesting.”

“I hardly believe that. Do you have a secret passion? A hidden talent? Do you like to knit scarves in your spare time?” I nudge him with my shoulder and squeeze his hand.

It has the desired effect, and Landon grins. “No, I don’t knit. Thank god, that would be embarrassing. Um, I play the guitar? But that’s not very interesting. Tons of people do it.”

“I think it’s interesting, and I don’t know anyone else who does. Like what kind of guitar? What do you like to play?”

“Mostly acoustic. I started with ballads, like John Mayer, Jack Johnson kind of stuff. Now I mainly play my own songs.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Landon, you write music? That’s so cool. Why didn’t you say something? Will you play one for me?”

His gaze returns to his feet. “It’s not as cool as it sounds, I swear. I dunno. I don’t talk about it much because it’s just fooling around. And then people want to hear me play and it’s embarrassing, I don’t play in front of people.”

“Oh, so you don’t like to have people watch you. Well, that I can understand. Have Jared or Milo seen you play?”

“Yeah, but just other people’s songs. I’ve never played them any of my own. They’re too personal.”

The anxiety rolling off of him at the idea of playing for other people is palpable. My heart clenches; this was clearly difficult for him to share.

“Well, I would love to hear you, but only if you want me to.” I give his hand another squeeze and tug gently to get us moving again. “You know, when I first saw you in the greenhouse, my first impression was that you looked like a rock star.”

Peeking up at him, I catch his blush deepen. “You didn’t really think that.”

“No, seriously, I did! You have the look. I even remember thinking to myself that even if you were terrible, I’d still go see you play because you were that hot.”

That statement draws a chuckle from him. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

“That was meant to be a compliment, you know. I’m not trying to say I assume you’re bad. In fact, I bet you’re amazing.”

“Don’t get your expectations too high, or I’ll never live up to them. Besides, you can’t just look at a person and know they’re good at something.”

“I disagree. You’ve got long, delicate fingers, so I bet you do really well at reaching the chords. And you have a really rich, smooth voice, so I can imagine what you’d sound like singing. I bet you’re great.”

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