Page 28 of Where Happiness Begins
Two streets away from home, I feel Carter glance my way. I keep my gaze out the window.
“Are you going to talk to me at some point?” he asks, something I never would’ve guessed would come out of his mouth.
“Why would I?” I’m not usually this petty, but something about him, whether it’s his arrogance or his hot-and-cold moods, brings it out of me.
“You talk to everyone, always,” he says. “I’ve seen you.”
I grind my molars together, hating that he has a point. Hating that he’s seen enough of me to know that.
“I thought you didn’t like that.”
“I never said that.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
A deep sigh comes out of his mouth, and he turns the music off.
“Look, I’m sorry about that night. It’s not you. It’s never been about you.”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“It’s not,” he repeats, his face still devoid of expression but voice sounding determined. With his eyes on the road, he says, “I’m not big on the whole…extrovert stuff.”
“You mean being civil with someone else?”
He sends me a glare that’d make me smile if it were in any other context. “I mean getting to know others. I’m…used to being on my own.” His throat bobs, the only indicator that this might mean something to him. “And you caught me on a bad night, but again, not on you.”
I’m not sure what to say to all that, so after going over my options, I settle on, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. I get it.” I look out the window. “I can be a bit much sometimes.”
“That’s not it,” he says.
“It’s fine,” I say, forcing a small smile. I remember all the times Greg made me feel like I was asking too much.Beingtoo much. If my own boyfriend thought that, I can see how it could be baffling to a stranger, especially one who seems to be the definition of antisocial.
“I really am sorry I hurt you,” Carter says, and I have to admit he sounds genuine.
“You didn’t,” I lie.
“Pretty sure I did.”
I give him a side-glance. “Fine. Maybe you did a little.”
I’d expect him to smile at my admission, but what was I thinking? This is Carter. Smiling doesn’t exist in his muscle memory.
“Are we gonna be good now?” he asks.
“Sure.” And I mean it. He might be asking for it out of pity, but at this point, I don’t care. It’s exhausting to avoid someone you live with, and the energy I’ve spent being mad would be better used elsewhere. We can coexist in neutrality. We don’t need to be friends, and I won’t ask for it again, but we also don’t need to be enemies.
“Good,” he says, then turns the music back on.
While the short rest of the drive home remains silent, it’s much, much lighter.
Chapter 12
Carter
