Page 251 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I close the card and drop it into the box before pushing the lid on top, wishing I had some masking tape to keep it from ever falling open again.
How did it even get here? Did Lennox live in this apartment before I did?
It wouldn’t be all that weird if he did—it’s his parents’ farm, after all. Maybe he lived here while he was working to open the restaurant.
A pulse of heat moves through me at the thought of Lennox occupying this space. Sleeping in my bed. Using the shower. Lounging in the living room after a long day of work. It’s a dangerous thought because it makes it all too easy to imagine the two of us lounging around the apartmenttogether,and those are exactly the kinds of thoughts I’m trying to avoid.
Outside my apartment door, footsteps sound on the stairs, and my heart rate spikes. I stand up, picking the box up with me, and take a step away from the door.
Toby sits up, his ears perked.
Who could possibly be coming to see me now? In the middle of a snowstorm? Or, more like thebeginningof a snowstorm, but still. An hour ago, the parking lot was empty except for my SUV, so to suddenly realize I’m not alone is a very uncomfortable feeling.
A knock sounds on the door. “Tatum?” Lennox calls. “Don’t freak out. It’s just me.”
Oh.Oh.Maybe I can stop freaking out over the possibility of a masked murderer being at my door, but how am I supposed to stop freaking out overLennoxbeing there?
I hurry forward, composing myself as best I can in the three steps it takes me to reach the door. “Hey,” he says easily. He’s all bundled up in a winter coat and scarf, a wooden milk crate in his hands. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“Nothing like heavy footsteps slowly moving up the stairs to get your heart racing.” I step back to let him in. “What are you doing here? Should you be driving in this weather?”
He steps inside, and I shut the door behind him. “I borrowed Brody’s truck,” he says. “And the roads aren’t too bad yet.” His eyes drop to the box in my hands—his box.
Oh no.
What do I do now?
Do I give it to him? Put it back in the closet and pretend like it’s mine?
It’s an old Nike box—orange with a white swoop—so it’s not like it’s unique. Unless he recognizes the particular way this box is worn, he could just think it’smyold shoebox.
I spin around and put it on the kitchen table like it’s no big deal. Like I have no reason to hide it from him. Like I didn’t just spend half an hour digging through the remnants of his love life.
"Are you a Harry Styles fan?" Lennox asks.Harry's Houseis still playing in the background, but the song that's playing rightnow is one of the lesser known tracks. I'm impressed Lennox recognized the artist.
"Is anyonenota Harry Styles fan?"
He chuckles. "You know, he and Flint are friends."
"Ohhh, don't tell me things that will make me obsess about the degrees of separation between me and Harry. It's cruel."
He smiles. "Noted. So, uh—" Lennox clears his throat like he's suddenly nervous. “I brought you some things to help you get through the storm.”
He sets the milk crate down on the table not far from the shoebox.
Oh, this is awkward. Please, please, please, just don’t ask me about the box.
“A flashlight, a few candles. Some snacks,” Lennox says. “And an extra blanket just in case you need it.”
Oh, my heart.He brought me snacks? I lean forward and look into the box, my eye catching on a thermos in the corner. Wait, no.Twothermoses.
“There’s soup in that one,” Lennox says. “And the coffee you seemed to like so much in the other.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, and I get the sense that he’s nervous.
He shouldn’t be. If he was hoping to charm me, he has succeeded. I’m charmed. Fully. Completely. All-incharmed.
I still have the travel mug I stole from him last week when he found me outside in my pajamas. And his scarf, too. I’ve been meaning to give them back, but I keep forgetting. Maybe because subconsciously, I like having things around that belong to him.
My eyes dart to the shoebox. Better a scarf and a coffee mug thanthat.
