Page 97 of Maybe You

“There’s not much to tell,” Sutton says.

Jordan waves him off. “I’m sure there is. For instance, what do you do for a living?”

“I don’t have a job,” Sutton says. By now, I can read him well enough that I know there’s a part of him that enjoys creating that moment of awkwardness.

It does give Jordan pause for a moment. But only for a moment.

“Any hobbies?” he continues.

Sutton holds his gaze calmly. “None that should be mentioned in polite company.”

“Have you always lived in New York?” Jordan asks.

“Yes,” Sutton says.

“A native, huh? Your family is from around here too, then?”

Sutton pauses for a second before he says, “Yes.” It comes out tightly, though.

I frown at Jordan. This small talk is starting to sound a whole lot like a bad cop interrogating a witness. Not even because of the topics covered. Those are pretty mundane get-to-know-you questions, but they’re delivered with a grim determination that starts to feel a bit hostile after a while.

I’m not the only one who seems to think that, because Remy sends Jordan a look and gets up.

“I see the cleanup crew is up to the task, so we can probably leave you to it. Jordan, if you’re free, I need some help at the workshop.”

Jordan sends Sutton one last frown but follows Remy. Theo sneaks out after them, clearly afraid he’s going to be roped into doing the dishes or something equally horrible if he stays around.

It’s a bit unexpected. Jordan and Remy are usually both great with Theo’s friends, so I don’t really know what the hell this weird attempt at small talk was.

I hand Sutton a clean towel and do the dishes while he dries. The earlier awkwardness left with Remy and Jordan, so now it’s just the two of us in comfortable silence.

Once we’re done, I dry my hands and turn around. Sutton is leaning against the counter opposite, drying the last few plates and eyeing me thoughtfully.

“What?” I ask.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again before he shakes his head. Sutton puts the last plate down and spends a few moments methodically drying his hands before he meets my gaze again.

He feels strangely distant all of a sudden.

I don’t like it.

“Want to come upstairs?” I blurt. “To my room.”

He’s still looking at me like he’s searching for something, but eventually he nods. He follows me up the stairs, and once we’re inside my room, I close the door behind us.

“Home, sweet home.” I look around and Sutton follows suit.

There’s not much to see. It’s a room with a bed, a desk, and a dresser in it. The walls are dark gray and simple white. There’s no clutter because I don’t like it, but the desk is a bit of a mess, with textbooks in piles, a laptop with its lid open, and papers with notes scribbled all over them strewn around.

Sutton takes it all in before he turns around and faces me again.

“So this is where you live,” he says.

I nod and scrunch my nose in an apologetic grimace. “Sorry about the interrogation. Jordan has an unnecessary overprotective-big-brother mode that sometimes gets triggered for no reason at all.”

“I thought you said you only had a sister and your mom?”

“I do. We’re not related. Jordan, Remy, and I aren’t related, I mean. Theo’s my nephew.”

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