Page 28 of The Season
“You can have some of this, if you want,” Seth offers, stirring the mystery sludge in his pot. “It’s just mac ‘n’ cheese, but I made extra.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, contemplating. I’ve only just met these guys, and I don’t want to start off by being the roommate who eats everyone else’s food. At the same time, I’m starving.
“Don’t do it, Lily.”
I’m surprised by the sound of Antoine’s voice singing out from the couch at the far end of the living room, and I shut the door to the fridge to peer around the beer-can-littered island that separates the kitchen and dining area from the lounge.
Antoine peers over the novel he’s reading, the wordsPlanète de feusprawled across the cover featuring a spaceship, a large planet, and what appears to be a purple-skinned man chest. I bite back a smirk at the sight of it, because I’m almost certain I’ve got that same book on my e-reader, only in English. The adventures of Captain Charles and his alien lover, Aehaeko,wererather memorable.
“That’s not cheese,” Antoine continues, wrinkling his nose slightly. “And anything that orange should not be consumed by humans.”
“Mais peut-être que ce serait bon pour les étrangers?” I reply lightly, my gaze dropping pointedly to Antoine’s book.
I mean the reference toétrangers—aliens—as a gentle joke about his book, and also as a subtle way of letting Antoine know that I speak French too. To my dismay, his eyes widen in alarm, his gaze flicking nervously to the guys in the kitchen.
I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile, and add: “J’ai lu le même livre en anglais. Et ne t’inquiète pas—je serai discrète.”
His shoulders slump slightly at my promise of discretion, his expression softening as some of the tension tightening his eyes falls away. “D’ac,” he murmurs, shutting the book to rest on his knees and surreptitiously hiding the cover with his hands.
“You speak French?” Seth asks, a note of surprise in his voice. I turn around in time to see him scooping the orange goop—which is definitely instant macaroni and cheese—into two bowls. “That’s cool.”
I shrug, taking the bowl from him with thanks. “My dad is French,” I say by way of deflection.
It’s the easiest explanation, and technically true, even if my dad refuses to speak the language. Still, between long afternoons with my French grandmother and studying French at university, I do well enough.
I feel Antoine’s eyes on me, but don’t dare look at him. I’ve made him uncomfortable, and I get the distinct feeling the last thing he wants right now is any more attention. Instead, I make my way over to the table, pulling up a seat next to Matty and across from Liam. Seth sits down next to me, the smile never leaving his face.
“Do you guys speak any second languages?” Seth asks Matty and Liam cheerfully, before shoveling a spoonful into his mouth.
Matty shakes his head, his cheeks reddening as he lifts his eyes to meet my own. “No. I took some Spanish in high school back home in Idaho, but it never stuck.” He gives a self-deprecating laugh, then shrugs. “Too stupid, I guess.”
My stomach tightens at his words, but I tamp down the instinctive urge to tell him not to talk about himself like that. I don’t know him well enough for that, not really.
“Bit of Te Reo Maori, bit of Japanese,” Liam responds idly, never lifting his eyes from his plate. “Not much though.”
He’s eating the most appealing-looking meal out of all of us—a pan-fried steak with seared broccoli—and I can’t help but stare as he cuts off a bite of meat with expert precision, then pops it into his mouth.
Matty cocks his head in confusion. “What’s Te Reo Maori?” he asks.
“I didn’t realize you spoke any other languages,” Antoine murmurs from the couch at the same time. It’s so quiet, he could have been talking to himself, but Liam’s head snaps up from his meal as if he’s been electrocuted, his eyes glowing with some undefinable emotion as he glares across the room.
“Why would you?” Liam drops the knife and fork on his plate with a clatter, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. There’s no mistaking the look of disgust on his face, or the angry tone of his voice. “It’s not like we know each other.”
Antoine doesn’t answer, and I stare down at my food, forcing myself to swallow the sticky, slightly dry mouthful I’d been chewing.
Liam stands abruptly, his chair scraping against linoleum as he rises. “You can have my steak,” he tells Matty, roughly shoving the half-eaten meal toward him. “I’m going to bed.”
“What was that all about?” Matty asks when we hear the door to Liam and Eddie’s room click shut. He looks between me and Seth with wide eyes, then slides Liam’s discarded plate closer to his own. “Do you guys know?”
I shake my head.
“No idea,” Seth says with a shrug, his blue eyes darting over to where Antoine is still sitting on the couch. “Better to just ignore it, eh?”
It’s a good idea, considering I just moved in yesterday, and I don’t really know any of these guys. Still, the thought of Antoine sitting on that couch by himself after Liam’s rude outburst has my chest tightening.
Especially after I made him feel uncomfortable about his book.
“My back is a bit sore, actually,” I say by way of apology, rising to stand. “Think I’m going to sit on the couch instead.” I give Matty and Seth a small smile, then gather up my bowl and make my way over to the living room.
