Page 26 of Between Us

The tapping grows faster as she stares out of the passenger window. “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, not wanting to startle or upset her.

She nods, staying silent until I’m turning onto her street. Without looking at me she says, “It’s the one with the orange tree.” I recognize her dad’s car outside, but I don’t say anything. “And I’m fine. It just feels… I don’t know. Embarrassing? I live with my parents.” She gestures toward the house.

I’m not convinced that’s all that’s wrong, but it’s a lot more vulnerable than I would’ve expected from her.

It doesn’t matter to me whether she lives with her parents, or that she’s not in college, or that she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life. Because I agree, it’s totally okay and understandable to take a few years off if you aren’t sure what’s next.

It makes me feel protective of her. Not totally in afriendlyway either.

“I know that. I knew that before I offered you a ride. It’s not a surprise, Blake. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” She shrugs and looks out the windshield with a blank expression. “Before I moved out here, I was living with my parents. I moved back in with them immediately after graduation. You’re eighteen—”

“Almost nineteen,” she quickly cuts in with a coy glance my way.

Trying to rein in my grin, I continue, “You’re working, plus I know you do shit on the side too.” Blake picks up random shifts at the flower shop when they need extra help, and in the last two weeks, I’ve seen four different moms ask if she’d be willing to babysit for them. She always says yes. “And you live with your parents.” I shrug. “I’m twenty-two, have a college degree, and not only did I move back in with my parents for a while, but they help pay my rent. Like, all of it.”

Slowly, she nods and gives me an unsure look.

We sit in silence again, this time looking at each other, shamelessly taking in the other’s features. Her brows stay a little furrowed, and there’s the ever-present downturn to her lips I’d give anything to lift. But right now, all I can do is offer her a small smile that I hope gives her at least a little bit of comfort.

She has a cute heart shaped face with full cheekbones and a permanent pout that only highlights the deep pink of her lips. Her raven black hair contrasts her smooth pale complexion beautifully, especially under the sunset.

I love her eyes the most. It’s so cliche, I know. And that’s exactly why I’ve never allowed myself to tell her that—she’d never let me live it down. It’s true though.

They’re light gray and moody. Her gaze is sharp but when she looks at you, it feels like she’s reallylooking at you.

They’ve reminded me of a summer thunderstorm since the night at the grocery store. It’s why the nickname slipped out earlier. It’d been on the tip of my tongue since The Loop. The more I get to know her, the more I realize that the imagery is perfect for her in more ways than just physical.

After a minute, a pair of headlights pull us from the moment we’re sharing. Chuckling at Blake’s groan of misery, I assume it’s her mom getting home. And when the car stops and the woman with the same eyes and heart-shaped face walks out, I know I’m right.

If it weren’t for the mocha brown hair and her light golden brown skin, Blake would be almost a mirror image of her mom. Selena is effortlessly and agelessly beautiful. But the way Selena’s eyes and Tim’s dark hair mixed isflawless. Maybe that has more to do with the actual human they created and raised, but even a month later, I know I’ve never seen someone prettier than Blake.

Selena looks momentarily confused before it morphs into the joy you only see on a meddling mother’s face. She leaves her car door open and walks to the passenger window of mine.

With a warm smile, she knocks on the window.

Blake turns to look at her but doesn’t roll it down. Selena’s eyes flick toward me, and I shift in my seat.

She knocks again, saying something to Blake in Spanish. I remember enough from my beginner courses to pick up the wordwindowand based on her tone, I think she’s telling Blake to lower it.

My eyes move to Blake, waiting to see what she does. I’ve only heard Blake speak Spanish a few times, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t turn me on every time. Who cares if she’s talking about a dog’s bowel movements if she sounds like a fucking angel doing it?

She says something back to her mom. It’s quick and a little snarky from her tone, though I don’t exactly know what. My guess would be something along the lines of ‘go away.’

Selena talks too quickly and scolds Blake. I’m immediately lost but I understandBlake Carmen.

Oof, the dreaded middle name. I understandthattone too. It’s the universal sound of a mother telling you she’s done with your shit.

This time Blake rolls her eyes and presses thedownbutton.

“Hi, Blake.” Tilting her head to look around Blake, she adds, “Hi, Adrian.”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller.” I give her a wave.

Blake snorts and Selena looks amused. “I’ve already told you that Selena will do fine.” Turning back to Blake, her face grows concerned. “Where’s your car?”

“Two flat tires,” Blake mumbles.

An expression I don’t know how to read crosses Selena’s face, and she asks quietly, “What happened? Is everything okay?”

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