Page 50 of The Problem with Falling
“So keep being yourself. It’s clear he likes that.”
“That is definitely not clear. You haven’t heard our fights.”
“Yes,” Jensen said, “I have. It sounds like you’re both trying your hardest not to like each other even though you secretly want to like each other.A lot.”
“That’s not it at all,” I lied. I couldn’t speak for Theo, but a big part of me did want him to like me. I wanted everyone tolike me. Not the real, hurting me but the character I put into the world day in and day out. Why did it seem to work for everyone but Theo? How was he able to see beneath my exterior? And how could I make it stop?
Jensen gave me a smile. The Langford smile. The same smile Theo gave me when he pissed me off.
Freaking jerk.
I didn’t like him. I just wished I didn’t care about him liking me back so dang much.
Jensen poured out the bag of soil and said, “Don’t worry, Willow. If it makes you feel better, he stares at you, too.”
CHAPTER 13
Theo
Afew days passed of me being a complete jerk to Willow to keep her away from me, and even though it was working, I hadn’t managed to get her off my mind. Even worse than that, Peter was taking Willow out that night.
I didn’t know why a tinge of jealousy settled in me at that idea.
Peter picked Willow up about thirty minutes ago. After she left, I went to my grandparents’ house for a second to check if they needed anything before I headed out to the water to fish for a few hours. When I returned, I was surprised to see Jensen sitting on my front porch, tossing a baseball in the air.
“What are you doing over here?” I called out as I walked up to the porch. “I thought you were taking a break from the garden today.”
“I am. I was just waiting for your ass to get here,” he said, standing on the top step.
“Language,” I scolded.
“Come on, Theo. Ass is hardly a bad word. Shit and fuck are much worse.”
“PaPa and Grandma used to put a bar of soap in my mouth whenever I cursed. Don’t make me bring that back around.”
“Ah, yes. Keep the generational trauma going. Smart,” he joked.
The kid was a smart-ass, and I couldn’t help but like it.
Even though I hated his father, Jensen reminded me of myself when I was his age. He was in a transition period of growth, battling a bit with being a heavier kid. Yet every time I saw him, I swore he’d grown a foot taller, and his voice was deeper. And I saw that kid a lot.
I didn’t mind having Jensen around. Even though he was a kid, he was a good seed. He helped me with the lawn work I didn’t want to do. I lived on a lot of acres, and every two weeks, Jensen helped me mow the lawn.
He was the one who also convinced me that I should plant some flowers around the house. I figured landscaping was something he’d go into down the road. He had an eye for that stuff in a way I didn’t. I could tell working on the garden was a good task for him, too. He seemed happier lately.
“You fishing tonight?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. The moment it was warm enough to take my boat out, I’d be on the water every single night.
“Yup. Wanna join?”
Jensen wasn’t a big fisherman, but he liked to join me on the water from time to time. He was kind of like Willow—a yapper. He talked about everything and nothing all at once. It was one of his greatest gifts. I valued people who talked a lot. It made it easier for me to stay quiet.
“Sure. Dad’s having Willow over for a date and told me to get lost for a few hours,” he commented as he walked toward the backyard.
“Willow?” I questioned. “I thought he was having a party tonight.”
“A party for two,” Jensen stated with an eye roll. “You know how he is. A fucking whore.”
“Language,” I repeated even though he was right. Peter Langford was a fucking whore.
