Page 48 of Tell Me It’s Right

I wasn’t at the high school yet, but that was before Leo got his license, so he still rode with me and Mom. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Liam’s face the first time Mom picked him up to drive him to school with us. It was so different than every other expression I’d seen him make. There was just…nothing behind his eyes.

No one ever told me the details of the fight that got him expelled, but the timing always made it seem like it had something to do with his mom dying.

God, why am I thinking about Liam right now?

I blink back to the table. If Miles noticed my attention drifting, he doesn’t show it. He’s far too preoccupied with refilling his wineglass. I watch him, searching for the things I’d originally thought were attractive about him. Attractive enough at least to agree to this date. But looking at him from across this table somehow feels vastly different than last night.

“Did you swim all through school?” I ask when he offers nothing else.

He bobs his head. “All four years of high school, then swam at Tufts on a scholarship.”

“What made you want to move back here after graduating?”

He shrugs and takes another gulp of wine. “Always planned on coming back. Family business and all. Dad said once I got my business degree, he’d let me take on a larger role.”

I pause, waiting to see if he’s going to ask me anything in return—something easy, like where I went to school, or asking me the same question about why I moved home after graduating—but he just stares at me.

Okay then. I chip away at my nail polish under the table. “Well, you were right. This place is really nice.”

He beams. “Just wait until you taste the food. Hey, you’ve barely touched your wine.”

I force a smile and take another sip. I was so nervous about tonight I haven’t had an appetite all day, and I’m enough of a lightweight as it is. The last thing I need is to drink this whole thing on an empty stomach.

Maybe the lull in conversation isn’t as awkward as I’m making it out to be. I’ve always felt the need to fill the silence with new people, but maybe he’s someone who’s comfortable not talking just for the sake of talking.

Granted, this is a first date where you’d supposedly want to get to know the other person.

Was it all in my head that he’d seemed more interested before? The party, the car… Maybe I’ve already disappointed him somehow and he’s counting down the seconds until it’s over andthat’swhy he’s making zero efforts at conversation now. Is it the dress? Did I say something wrong on the drive here? Is he more annoyed I didn’t go with his menu suggestion than I realized?

“So, do you still swim?” I offer.

“Oh, fuck no. Well, maybe a bit at a darty with a beer.” He winks.

“A…darty?” I repeat stupidly. Obviously I’ve heard the term before. I’m notthatclueless. Trish and Marti were big fans in school, and they managed to convince me to tag along here and there. But I have this weird, nagging feeling in the back of my mind as I think about the party the other night. How he’d said it wasn’t his scene.

“You know.” He swirls a hand in a circle. “Day party. Didn’t you have those at…wait, where did you go to school?”

“Oregon!” I sit up a little straighter, then wince at how eager that sounded. “Just outside of Portland.”

“Ah.”

And…that’s all he says.

The waiter drifts toward us in my peripheral version, and I send up a little prayer of thanks to whoever is listening as he sets the food in front of us. I’m starving, and at least eating is better than sitting here with him staring at me.

I take a swig of my wine. It looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Chapter Seventeen

LIAM

“Fletch, it’s a fucking deathtrap in here.” I duck beneath a plastic sheet a few feet inside the front door. The entire living room has been stripped to its foundations, and it looks like he’s taken one of the walls out entirely. A few work lights are set up, casting shadows over the rest of the space, and Fletcher is nowhere to be seen.

“You just don’t see the vision!” he calls.

I follow his voice toward the kitchen at the back of the house, one of the few rooms that’s starting to come together. I never saw the house before he started the renovations, only pictures. It was outdated, cramped, and falling apart—the perfect house for Fletch’s first solo flip. I’m not sure if it’s still considered that if he’s planning on living in it afterward.

He grins as I step around the corner. “You brought beer.”

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