“Like I said, if you’re already bored, Ham is on his way, but honestly, I was hoping we could talk.” I take a tiny step closer, careful not to touch him. I’m not brave enough for that yet. Sure, I’ve accidentally touched him plenty of times over the years, even shared friendly hugs, but the tension is now suffocating—I can’t move another inch.
“Talk?” His voice pitches up and squeaks, causing me to stifle a giggle. He evens it out and adds, “Sure. We can talk.”
I hate having to initiate this. I’ve never done this kind of thing before, but I get why he’s not saying anything—because one, I have a fake boyfriend, and two, my mom made it clear we can’tdate. The air is muggy as it should be in July, but it layers sweat on my lower back that’s distracting. Needing my head to clear, I nod toward the front door. “Why don’t we go inside, where the air-conditioning’s on?”
“Sure.” I wait for him to say more than a single word, but after he tacks on a cheesy grin, I realize this is weird for him too.
Why is this so weird?
It’s Ty!
I don’t doubt that once we get over this weird initial step, everything will be perfect—but neither one of us has ever been much of a talker. I lead him inside, where my plan to sit down and relax completely backfires. Somehow, it’s worse here. It might have to do with the formality of our living room, with its high-back chairs and giant portrait of my mom above the fireplace. We sit on opposite ends of the couch like we’re waiting for a mediator.
“So,” he says, his eyes glued on the portrait of my mom, “your mom wasn’t upset about you going to the game?”
“No, her approval rating went up another point.” I deflate a little. This is way too awkward. He won’t open up like this. I stand abruptly and say the first thing that comes to mind, “Do you want to walk the goats?”
A teasing grin spreads across his features. “Should I be scared?”
“Nah, they always behave perfectly.” I’m already grinning wider, eager to get somewhere that feels more natural.
Clearly, he likes the idea, at least better than this, because he’s on his feet. I think we’re both grateful to have something to focus on, and we quickly scramble outside, grab leashes, and wrangle three very opinionated goats. Even with the struggle to get them all leashed, we’re interacting more naturally. Crunch butts Ty’s leg and tries to nip at his sleeve. Ty’s quick to jerk his arm away,and we laugh. Our chemistry clicks into place again as our eyes meet, and we hold a long, unbroken gaze.
This is how we work.
Not sitting and staring at each other.
We steer the goats out of the pen, letting them roam the pasture. The silence is no longer awkward. My stomach relaxes, and I find a way to ease into conversation, “I’m sorry about Bodan being at the game.”
Even though he’s not looking directly at me, I can tell he rolls his eyes. “Why are you apologizing?”
Wincing, I struggle not to apologize for apologizing and settle on a one shoulder shrug. “I guess that’s what I do.”
His bottom lip rolls under his top, as if he’s fighting not to say something. When his lips finally purse, he says, “You know you say sorry too much.”
I smile faintly. “You’ve told me that before.”
“Still true.” We pause near the barn, letting the goats snoop around, and he nudges a rock with his shoe, like he’s not ready to stop moving. “You care too much about making everyone else happy. Hence, you got sucked into this whole fake-boyfriend thing.”
“I won’t argue with you there. I do that a lot.” Biting the inside of my cheek, I give my shirt a nice tug again. My poor shirt will have loose threads when I’m done with it. “I guess I was hoping, if I did this for her, she’d finally see me a little differently. Like, not just an extension of her, but me for me. You know, I just always feel like she sees me as a tool or a resource but the rest of me is invisible.”
“You’re not invisible.” His gaze snaps over, and his voice lowers when he asks, “What about your happiness?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” I wave him off. “Bodan is a gentleman. A perfect fake date. My mom is happy.” I swallow, the words I refuse to say stick somewhere behind my growing lump.
“I didn’t ask about your mom’s happiness.” His jaw twitches. “And why don’t I believe you when you say you’re fine?”
My gut reacts, plummeting lower. “Well,” I start, then stop.Why is this so hard?I know he likes me—I heard him say it—but I can’t tell him that. It’s too direct, and we don’t have that kind of boldness going on. “I don’t know … maybe, I’m confused.”
“Confused about what?”
Exhaling, I check on the goats, who have found a patch of wild grass to devour. I’m glad they aren’t after my mom’s flowers. It means I can focus on Ty. My stomach is looping, but it’s seriously now or never. His question is the perfect prompt, and it won’t get easier. I look him dead in the eyes, but my tongue ties.
As if to take the pressure off me, Ty dips his head toward me and softens his voice. “Lottie, be honest. I talked to Ham. Did you hear what I said to Ham when I butt-dialed you?” The sun catches the side of his face, lighting up his eyes, and the familiar—but now somehow terrifying—pull to him comes roaring back. He’s giving me the bait to shift this conversation exactly where it needs to go.
I pray that admitting I heard him is the right thing to do. Once the words are out, I can’t take anything back. I’m terrified of making a mistake. My face heats under the pressure of the cracking silence. “I heard it. Ham and I chatted about it the other day, and he confirmed what I heard was true.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “Well, I guess Ham’s officially banned from secrets now.” His voice softens even more. “But since we’re being honest, I’m relieved you heard it.”
