If his room looks this picked-up after a whole week, then it proves he’s neat. After two days, a pile of dirty clothes usually compounds on my desk chair.
At first I wonder if he’s scared to be called neat, but after a while, I realize that maybe no one has ever pointed this out until now. Maybe he’s never noticed his own trait.
Garrison switches on a DVD player forSupernatural.The title screen with Sam and Dean Winchester appears. I’m deeply aware that I’m currently in a boy’s bedroom.
Alone. About to watch a television show.
We’re just friends, I remind myself, still trying to relax and not sit so stiffly. Or else my stomach will start cramping.
More nervous than giddy, I interlace my fingers and unlace them. Unsure of where to put my hands. I try not to be suggestive.
After Garrison pressesplayon the episode I left off, he glances at me and shifts his arm close but then tenses. Pauses.
He ends up clutching his knee.
Someone knocks on the door—we both jump.
“Shit.” Garrison hops to his feet, and he looks back at me with ayou alright?expression. I nod, and he focuses on the incomer and opens the door.
For some reason, I expect his brothers, but the moment a stunning brunette woman appears, I remember they’re away at college.
Standing on the other side of the doorway, his mom wears a pink dress that molds her hourglass figure. Diamonds cascade off her ears and neck, and her makeup, all pink shades, gives her a benevolent glow. Her straight hair is slightly curled on the ends, the kind of perfection I’ve only seen onReal Housewivesshows. (Maybe she has a personal hairstylist.)
She’s unquestionably beautiful, and if she wasn’t a former model or beauty queen in her younger years, I bet people told her that she could easily be both.
Mrs. Abbey meets her youngest son’s dour expression with a heavy sigh. “What did I do now?”
“Nothing,” he snaps. “I’m just busy.”
She peers into the room, at me, and offers a tiny smile before returning to Garrison. “If I knew you were bringing a boy over, I could’ve ordered pizza for you both.”
Oh my God.She thinks I’m a boy? I stare down at my baggy overalls.Don’t change, I try to remind myself.Don’t change because of his mom.
“She’s agirl,” Garrison emphasizes, and even though I only see the back of his head, I imagine his eyes narrowing a little. “And I already told you that I didn’t need anything today.”
Mrs. Abbey sighs again. “Why do you have to speak to me in that tone?”
Garrison shrugs. “Sorry.” His voice is entirely dry, and I try to concentrate on my cellphone to give them privacy. It’s hard not to overhear.
“You’re acting like I’ve demolished your entire world, and all I wanted to do was sayhello,how was your day?” She seems nice.
Garrison grips the door like he’s seconds from slamming it closed. “It was really good. Now can I go?”
Mrs. Abbey’s blue-green eyes flit to me, then back to him, and she tries to lower her voice. I still hear her say, “What happened to Rachel?”
He groans. “We’ve been over this. Rachel isn’t my friend anymore.” In my U.S. Government class, I heard Rachel vilifying Garrison. Saying things like,he should’ve convinced Nathan and his friends to do the right thing. He’s no better than them.
She hates him.
“I just spoke to her mother yesterday,” Mrs. Abbey explains. “She may forgive you if you just apologize and spend a little time—”
“No,” Garrison cuts in. “I don’t care about befriending Rachel again.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Mrs. Abbey continues. “I always thought she’d be a great influence on you, and if you go to the same college—”
“Mom,” he groans and rests his hands on his head. “Just accept that your hopes and dreams of me marrying Zeta Beta Zeta royalty are over andmove on. It’s not like Rachel and I were ever a thing. You just made it all up in your mind because you’re best friends with Rachel’s mom.”
“That’s not true,” she says, offended. “I just want what’s best for you.”
