Page 20 of Mr. Picture Perfect
It’s almost too much. He’s too close. Yet I can’t bring myself to move. “I’ve never had a good imagination.”
“I could help,” he offers.
I don’t know when it happened, but my hands are buried deep in my pockets and my shoulders have crept so far up, you’d think I was trying to hide my ears. “I’m fine the way I am,” I tell him.
“You sure?”
“With a ninety percent certainty, yes.”
“Only ninety?”
“Ninety is a very—” I can barely breathe. “—high percentage. I always leave room for error. It’s the—” Maybe I’m allergic to him. Or his clothes. Or human interaction. “—responsible thing to do.”
He chuckles, finding that funny, I guess. “I like the way you think, Noah. You’re very … precise.”
“You have to be precise when you write. Or code.”
“Good point.” He takes a breath. “So, um … are you ready to join everyone in the kitchen? I think Nadine may be about to tell us what her whole thing is. But if you need more time,” he quickly adds, “I’m more than happy to invent a dozen reasons you and I have to hang out here a while longer to watch the Tucker-Strong boysnotfight over a game. Don’t you worry. I can take on Nadine, delay her as much as you need, just say the word.”
I stare ahead.
Again, he acts as my protector. I didn’t hire him, but he acts with the devoted focus of someone I surely could never afford. Is he reading my mind? Does he know I’m over here avoiding all of the conversation in the kitchen?
But more importantly: why do I feel like he’s still playing the hero? That ceiling fan is staying up there right where it belongs. No picture frames falling out of the sky, either. Risk threat: zero.
Still, my heart races like I’m in danger.
Is my body determininghimto be the threat? Cole?
It’s probably the guilt of him hurting himself to save me. The longer he’s around, the more I feel it. “I’m going to get a plate,” I decide abruptly, then dismiss myself from the living room.
And from Cole’s side at long last.
That’s how I end up among the circle of adults around the kitchen island, positioned rather strategically between Burton and Tamika. No one seemed to notice my absence, and no one notices my appearance either. Hanging out aloofly in the living room was my subtle way of avoiding any socializing—as usual.
Until Cole appeared.
He’s standing at the other end of the kitchen island opposite me now. And he appears to be trying to catch my eyes.
But every time we make eye contact, I look away. I decided he is only paying attention to me because of what happened today. If it wasn’t for my obliviousness, no one would be in trouble tonight, Cole wouldn’t be injured, and for all I know, none of us would be gathered here in this house at all.
Whatever tasty finger foods I placed on my plate have gone untouched. Well, except for one of the carrot sticks, which I keep picking up, taking a nibble of, then putting right back down.
Is it weird that I’m grateful no one else has talked to me or asked me anything so far? I much prefer it this way. Maybe it’s why I chose to stand between Tamika and Burton. If any questions are hurled our way, either of them can speak for the Spruce Press. I think it is fair to say the paper—and something related to the incident today—is the clear and obvious reason we’re here.
I really wish Mrs. Strong would just tell us why she invited us over, get this whole thing done with, and let us go home in peace. She and Tanner are taking turns telling a story about her mother-in-law who’s in town. Billy now and then chimes in with a funny anecdote of his own. Nadine’s husband nearby chuckles softly at everything they say, cheeks rosy and a glass of wine in his hand, soft-spoken as ever. Everything is so sweet, lovely, and endearing.
Really, this is just torture.
I look across the island, perhaps to wonder if Cole is similarly exhausted of this banter—only to discover him missing.
I blink and adjust my glasses. Where’d he go?
“Hey.”
I nearly drop my plate as I turn to find Cole standing right by my side, taking place of Tamika who was there a second ago, his bright and striking eyes on mine.
“Sorry,” he says right away. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just meant to ask earlier ifyou’reokay. I mean, youlookokay. Seem it, too.Areyou okay?”
