Page 93 of Scoring Eden

“Noted.”

She studies my face for several beats and, seemingly finding whatever it is she was looking for, nods to herself and sighs. “I’m exhausted. Interior decorating is no joke.” Much to my dissatisfaction, she slumps down onto the newly plumped cushions of the couch with a huff. “I need to be horizontal for the next five to seven business days.”

I glare at her, unimpressed. “You unrolled a rug, Aspen. One. You didn’t even help me bring all this shit upstairs.”

She flings an arm over her eyes and yawns. “You seemed to have it all under control. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“It took me eleven trips to the garage.”

“And I was supervising, which is hard work in itself.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm. Telling people what to do is a tiring job.”

I hum a sarcastic agreement. “Dictators must be so burnt out. There should be more awareness about it.”

Behind her arm, her head bobs in agreement. “We’re a deeply misunderstood group. It’s tragic, really.”

“More people should be talking about it, for sure.”

Another nod of her head. “We should start a GoFundMe. Maybe write to the local press, see if they can run a spotlight article, really drive up the donations.”

“Aspen?”

“Mm?”

“I need you to leave now.”

She finally drops her arm, scowling up at me with more petulance than is appropriate for her age. “I hope Eden never forgives you, you know? You are extremely rude.”

“And you are a menace to society, but I put up with you for Eden’s benefit, so perhaps you should extend me the same courtesy.”

I smile so she knows this exchange is just part of our regularly scheduled programming, at least on my end. It’s a dynamic I wonder if I would have had with Brynn, had our relationship not been dictated by the trauma of premature parental death.

Technicolor fringing sways as she peels herself off the couch and dusts down her jeans. “I don’t know how my sister finds you even mildly appealing.”

“I don’t think she does anymore.”

“Good, you were an asshole.”

She makes for the door, and something possesses me to call out after her. All I know is that she’s Eden’s sister, the person she’s closest to in the whole world, and I don’t want tension between us, not when it will cause more stress for Eden.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her. You know that, right?”

Aspen stares at me for a long moment. “Maybe not, but you still did.”

“Yeah.” My hand finds the back of my neck. “I know.”

“Because you freaked out.”

I nod.

“Because you realized you’re in love with her, and your brain—which, evidently, is the consistency of overcooked spaghetti—couldn’t cope with it?”

“I’m not–”

“In love with her?” she finishes for me, shaking her head with a bewildered sigh. “Yeah, you are, big guy. But I have neither the energy, nor the crayons, to explain it to you.”