Page 33 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
Reluctantly, she moved to the corner of the sectional, leaving plenty of space between us. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Only if you’ll believe in yourself more,” I challenged back. Holly had talent. Grit. Determination. Creativity. Why didn’t she think she could win?
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just start this.”
For the sake of time, I dropped the conversation and pushed play. Once again, my thoughts strayed from the movie and settled on the woman next to me. How could I help her see what I saw? A strong, confident, capable chef? If she knew how amazing she was, her staff would see it too, and it might just make the difference needed to ease the tension in her kitchen.
Chapter 14
Holly
Themovieswerecute.I laughed out loud when the princesses gathered around Vanellope, trying to help her figure out what to do. Overall, I loved Ralph and Vanellope. It was blatantly obvious why Rhett had shown these movies to me. He was trying to help me understand that friendships could form between the most unlikely people.
Like him and me.
Now the problem became what I was going to do about said new friendship, because the more I was around him, the moreawareI was of him. Every time he shifted during the movie, I noticed. Every time he laughed, I smiled in response. So ridiculous that he’d turned me into this simpering girl. I had to channel my inner warrior just like in the fantasy novels I read.
“What did you think?” Rhett asked when the movie ended.
“Great choices. Although a little late in the message since I already agreed to be your friend.”
“It’s never too late for these movies.” He stood, gathering his trash and popcorn bowl. “Where’s the garbage?”
I picked up my glass soda bottle and candy wrappers. “In here.”
Rhett followed behind me. I pulled out the oak cabinet next to the dishwasher, where the garbage can was hidden under the counter. After tossing my trash in the bins, Rhett trailed behind me to the living room. Considering the time, I thought he’d leave right away. Instead of getting the box of popcorn he’d left on the coffee table, he stood in front of the pictures hanging on the wall across from the couch.
The pictures of Landon and me from kindergarten to graduation hung in various wood frames. Mom had never bothered to make sure they all matched. I collapsed my hands behind my back, squeezing my fingers tight. Did he notice the acne smattering my chin and forehead during my early teen years before I’d begged Mom for face wash? What about my frizzy, untamed hair in seventh grade? Or the stupid side-swoop bangs I had in my ninth-grade photo? My forehead was too small for bangs, and they’d constantly gotten in my eyes. I’d never made the same mistake again.
He pointed to my eighth-grade photo. “Even with braces and a brush of acne, you’re cute.”
My cheeks heated. At least by the time I’d posed for that photo, my face had cleared somewhat—and I’d been introduced to a flat iron. “Umm. Thank you?”
He chuckled. “You should have seen me as a teen. Horrible hair and braces for three years.”
Knowing the little I did about Rhett, there was absolutely no way he had looked awful. He didn’t have an awkward bone in his body. I was sure his parents had taken him to the best doctors, and he’d never had a zit on that handsome face of his. “I think you’re saying that just to make me feel better.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”
I’d like to see what he claimed was “horrible hair.” “I feel like it’s only fair at this point.”
He smirked. “Ah. Haven’t you learned life is rarely fair? Either way, yes, I’ll be brave just for you.”
Rarely fair? How aboutnever?
Rhett’s eyes immediately softened. “I take it that comment is about your mom?”
I snapped my head up to meet his gaze. Had I said that out loud? I rubbed the back of my neck. “And my dad,” I said softly.
Rhett placed a hand on my elbow, leading me back to the couch. We sat facing one another, our knees almost touching. “Where is your dad?”
My chest squeezed. I hadn’t spoken about Dad in a while. I liked talking about him, but the pain of losing him never went away. I lived with the ache of his loss all the time. It was like a pinprick on my heart. Always there, but not enough to completely drown me in despair unless I dwelled on it.
I stared at my hands in my lap. “He passed away from a heart attack seven years ago.”
Rhett placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
