Page 72 of Take Me Home

“Don’t do what?”

“Get pissed and then deny it, like I can’t read you at all.”

“Maybe you are misreading me. Ever consider that?” After all, she couldn’t read him right now, not even a little.

“Just like you’re mad at your dad and this whole situation,” he said, even and controlled.

“I’m not mad.”

“But you bend over backward pretending everything’s fine.”

Her cheeks burned.

“Don’t do that with me,” he pleaded. “Hell, you’ve never had a problem telling me how I’m bugging you before.”

This was true, at least after she’d broken the seal on hergrievances with him at that party freshman year. Never in her life had Hazel spoken so honestly, with such unfiltered aggression to anyone. But that had been because she’d had nothing to lose—he already didn’t like her.

“Speaking of bending over backward,” she said, “you sure turned on the charm back there. My dad was so impressed. Anarchitect. I don’t even think he knows what I’m studying.”

“You’re the one who told him I’m an architect. And, I’m sorry, I happen to be good with parents. Isn’t that what you wanted, for me to be a buffer from your family? Who are, by the way, perfectly nice people who just want to include you.”

He must have realized he’d hit a sensitive mark because he shook his head, ducking his face with remorse. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I’m— Something came up.”

Still so vague. He hadn’t thought up even the barest bones of an explanation in the last two hours. “Right, a family thing,” she parroted from his text. “It’s whatever, Ash.”

“It isn’t, actually.” He sucked his teeth, shook his head in frustration. That controlled, even tone finally gave way to a flare of heat. “I feel like you should know by now I wouldn’t bail on you if I could avoid it. Ihopedyou wouldn’t still think I’m that kind of asshole.”

The two kids to their left gasped, their wide-eyed shock at his swearing made ridiculous by the jelly beans bulging from each nostril. Even this didn’t break through Ash’s wall. The parents scolded the kids, and he mumbled his own embarrassed apology, squeezing the back of his neck.

Hazel didn’t knowwhatshe knew, besides the fact that something was really off with Ash.I wouldn’t bail on you if I could avoid it.Nice words, sure, but he still hadn’texplained.

“So, what kept you then?” she asked.

Ash tensed even more, if that were possible. Quietly, he said,“I don’t really want to do this here. Can we just get through this and talk later?”

Somehow, this was worse thana family thing. This was an escalation from something so minor they didn’t even need to discuss it to something so big it couldn’t be discussed until later.Laterwas for difficult conversations, things you said in private so the other person wouldn’t make a scene or feel mortified in front of a bunch of strangers.

Something drastic had changed since last night. He’d pursued her yesterday but could barely meet her eyes today. He couldn’t muster even half the enthusiasm for her that he showed her father.

Oh God, did he even need space from his family like he’d said, or did he not want her around them, getting more attached? It had to be obvious she envied their closeness. She’d stayed so late last night, so happy to be with them. When she’d said, “I guess I should go,” she’d even hoped he might say, “No. Stay.”

Pathetic little barnacle. She hadn’t even realized she’d latched on. But he obviously had. He’d just told her no strings, no expectations, and her very first move was to overstay, to imagine a place for herself, not just in his arms or bed, but in the core of his life. His family. As if writing her name on that laundry room door meant something.

Suddenly, every part of Hazel wanted to slam doors and turn their locks. She let the two slabs of gingerbread slump apart.

Shaking his head, he righted them. “We’re so bad at this.”

He was talking about the gingerbread, she thought, but he just as easily could have meant their non-relationship. She shuffled back from the table.

“What are you doing?” He twisted to look at her. “Hand me that other bag of icing. This one’s too runny.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“What, just give up? Let them win? You hate to lose.” He made a grabby gesture, moving right on from their spat back to the task at hand.

“We said if one of us wanted to stop, we’d stop.”

His thick eyebrows drew together. He looked from her to their disaster of a gingerbread house and back. Finally, understanding softened his brow. “Last night, you mean. We said…” His back straightened. He let the slabs list to one side. “Okay. Uh…is that what you’re saying? You want to…”

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