Page 75 of The Love of My Next Life
Lennon’s back goes ramrod straight.
“And that affects you twohow?” I ask, and Claire scowls.
“I’m covering a shift for Josh, and Lennon is covering a shift for Eric.” Her voice is so smug, and I have to breathe slowly through my nose. “We’re wearing their away jerseys and everything.”
I stare at Lennon’s face, but she won’t look at me.
“Oh, that’s so fun,” my mom says. “We can definitely move family dinner to tomorrow night. You don’t work, right, Macon?”
“Nope,” I say quickly. “I’m off.”
Claire and Mom talk some more, but I tune them out. I stare at Lennon instead. I will her to look at me, but she doesn’t. She drinks her juice and scrolls her phone, so I take out my phone and send her a text.
Say you have to get something from your room.
She freezes when she reads it. She even stops chewing her toast. I watch and wait for her to text back, but she doesn’t. For a minute, I think she’s going to ignore me entirely, but then slowly, she slides her phone into her pocket and stands up.
“I’ll be right back,” she says to the floor. “Forgot something.”
Then without looking at anyone, she walks out of the kitchen.
I hoover the rest of my Pop-tart and down my coffee, then put the mug in the sink.
“Gotta piss,” I say, and Claire gags. “See you later.”
My mom sighs, she’s over my shit, and I kiss her on the head again before leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs.
I bypass the bathroom and slip right into Lennon’s room.
“You’re not allowed to be mad at me about this,” she hisses the moment I step into the bedroom.
“Oh, no?” I stalk toward her. “Doing concessions as Eric’sgirlfriend? I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend, Lennon.”
“He’s not,” she argues, folding her hands over her chest. “I said yes to be—”
“Nice,” I mock, cutting her off. She stomps her foot and her jaw tenses.
“You’re not my boyfriendeither, Macon,” she snips, and it pisses me the fuck off because it’s true. “I can do whatever I want.”
“I said he doesn’t touch you.”
The fury in my voice is barely restrained. I have to fist my own hands to keep them from shaking. I’m fuming, and I fully recognize I’m being a total asshole.
I’ve made it a point to keep my distance from Lennon for weeks now, and I’ve fucking hated it. I’ve held my tongue as best I can. I’ve kept my hands to myself despite the fact that having her sleeping just feet from my bed every night is killing me. Having to shower in a bathroom filled with her bodywash is fucking with my head. The only time my skin stops crawling is when she’s sitting next to me with her paints, but even then, it physically hurts not being able to touch her.
Every single second my hands aren’t on her is a wasted lifetime. Every minute I’m not kissing her is a silent, painful death.
But she’s Claire’s best friend.
She’s going to be my mom’s stepdaughter.
She’s Trent’s pride and joy.
She canneverbelong to me, but I’ll be mother-fucked if I have to sit back and watch her waste time on Eric fucking Masters.
“He doesn’t touch you,” I repeat.
“Yeah, well, you haven’t touched me either.”
