Page 24 of Where Happiness Begins

“What?” Lex says.

“Ask Finn,” I tell her, and she doesn’t ask anything else after that, probably figuring out what went down a week ago.

“Well, I was actually about to be on my way to the gym,” Lexie says as she grabs her stuff, minus the fake flowers, which I’m sure she’s hoping I decide to throw away or forget about. “Talk soon?” Lexie tells me with her brows high, probably meaning this conversation isn’t over.

Since I know she’s not a fan of hugs, I keep my arms to myself and grin. “Sure. Next time we could work on the confetti?”

“Kill me now,” she says with a wink, then walks out the door, leaving Carter and me alone in the kitchen.

I clear my throat, pointing at the mess I made on the kitchen counter. “I made dinner and dessert’s almost ready, if you wantsome?” I hope my eyes don’t betray the pathetic level at which I want him to say yes, just this once.

Even if they do, it doesn’t stop him from saying, “I’m good, thanks.”

Everything deflates in me, just like it has every time I’ve offered him to spend time upstairs with me this past week. I should be getting used to it, but every time, it seems to sting more than the last, especially since there’s no kitchen downstairs, which means either he eats granola bars for dinner or he comes upstairs to cook while I’m asleep in order to make sure he won’t cross my path.

Am I that hard to stand?

“Okay,” I say. “Good night then.”

“Night,” he answers in a barely audible voice with a nod before disappearing into the basement, closing the door to the stairs behind him.

I return to my baking, finishing the batch of dough before I roll them into balls and spread them onto a pan. I try to keep my mind away from what just happened, but when I notice the balls of dough have been beaten down into flat discs, I realize I might be holding on to more frustration than I initially believed.

I start again, this time being careful not to hurt the innocent cookies. I hate being like this. Usually, I’m able to move on from the things that bother me, but it’s not like I can avoid someone I share a house—and now a job—with.

Lexie’s words come back to me. Maybe she does have a point and talking about it with him wouldn’t be a bad idea. If he’s simply clueless, we’ll never have the chance to figure this out.

I put the cookies into the oven, and once I’ve closed the door, my mind is made. I can’t complain about it if I don’t try to do something first.

I only give myself time for a small pep talk, and before I can rethink this, I open the basement door for the first time since Carter moved in and go downstairs.

“Hello?” I call out before going down the steps in case he needs to cover up. When no answer comes, I finish the trek down.

The first thing I notice about the basement is how bare it is. I don’t recognize anything that’s changed since I cleaned up here, save for a pair of jeans laid on the floor and a computer monitor standing on the coffee table. Other than that, it’s as if no one has stepped foot here since I did.

The second thing I notice is that it’s empty. The door to the bedroom is open, showing an unmade bed and still-closed curtains. My annoyingly curious side wins, and just as I take a step closer to peek in, the bathroom door opens and Carter catches me red-handed.

“Sorry,” I say, stepping back. “I called out, but you didn’t answer, so I came down.”

“Did you need something?” he asks in a bland tone, and I can’t tell whether it’s rude, bored, or simply neutral. I don’t know him enough to be able to tell, which is part of the problem, isn’t it?

“No. Well, yes.” I tuck some of the strands that slipped out of my long ponytail behind my ears. “I wanted to ask if you had a problem. With me, I mean.”

The second the words are out, I realize what a mistake I made. This is embarrassing as it is, but under his intimidating stare, there’s no helping the deep flush that overtakes my face.

“Why would I have a problem with you?” he asks slowly.

“I don’t know? Which is why I’m asking?” I wish all my statements didn’t sound like questions. “You’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here, and if there’s a problem, I’d like to know it so I can solve it. This doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” is his simple answer.

“Yes, you are.” I try but failing not to laugh. He doesn’t seem to find it funny at all. “You’ve barely acknowledged me since moving in.” Surely it’s not all in my head. “Maybe it’s because of the weird way we met, and if it is, then I want to apologize and make it right. Start again.” I add a smile at that to show I genuinely want that, but of course he doesn’t return it.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he repeats, still standing in the bathroom doorframe and ignoring about half of the things I’ve just said.

“Fine,” I say. “You’re not avoiding me. But youareavoiding spending time with me, and I’d like to know why so we can move on, and, I don’t know…” Once again, I think back to Lexie’s advice, and at the cost of sounding like a total loser, I say, “Be friends, maybe?”

A long breath comes out of his lungs as he drags a hand through his hair. “Look, I have nothing against you, okay? But this is a business deal, not an actual relationship. We don’t need to pretend otherwise.”

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