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He gives me a frustrated look. “I’ll walk with you, then.”
“That’s a waste of time.”
“It’s not, since I get to spend it with you.”
I roll my eyes and decide not to tell him I’d rather my family doesn’t see him with me when I’m coming up the sidewalk. “Thanks for the taco bar and letting me spend the night,” I say. “And for conversations. Even if I was awkward.”
“You’re always awkward,” he says with a pleasant smile, to which I scowl and push his shoulders. He snags my wrists and hoists them up around his neck, pulling me onto my tiptoes. “You’re welcome. Thank you for not letting me bury my feelings.”
“You should tell me when you’re having a bad day,” I say sternly.
“Why waste the time when you seem to know immediately?” he asks.
I glare at him. His smile widens, and he kisses my nose.
“I’m working on it, okay?” he says, softer. “Good luck with your family meeting. Text me when it’s done so I know how…”
His attention wanders over my head, and his gentle expression hardens into stone. His eyes flash with rage and his jaw juts through his pale skin. Frowning, I turn around.
Logan is at the foot of the driveway, leaning against his borrowed car, arms folded over his wide chest. He’s watching us, but he’s not glaring or seething. Rather, he looks exhausted. His eyes are carved with purple bags, and his skin is as unhealthily pale as mine typically is.
“The hell do you want?” Aaron demands.
I slide my arms away from his neck and give him a warning look, to which he huffs but stays put on the front step. I take a few steps toward Logan’s car, but he startles me by beelining forward, his fists clenched. Immediately, Aaron abandons his position to slide in front of me protectively.
“I’m here to talk to Riley,” Logan says coolly.
“You can’t show up on my doorstep with your fists out,” Aaron snaps, though he allows me to nudge him aside.
“What’s so important that you couldn’t call?” I ask, furrowing my brow. “I was about to come home. How long have you been out here?”
“Your message.” He draws his phone out and shakes it, lips pursed. “You’re moving back in with him. You want to meet so you can tell us, right?”
“That’s not true,” I say, but he’s already talking over me.
“This is my fault for not being honest.” Logan takes another step forward, and Aaron’s muscles snap tight. Logan notices and stays put, about eight feet from us. “I’m not sure why I thought warnings were enough. I just didn’t think it would all be this fast. I thought I had more time to come up with a way to convince you not to damn yourself.”
His words used to make me twinge with guilt. Now, a few measly weeks later, they do nothing but aggravate me. “Just because you have a grudge doesn’t mean Aaron is a horrible person,” I say sharply. “We can all change. He clearly has.”
“Then has he told you the truth?” Logan asks.
“About what?”
“Your relationship.”
I stare at him in frustrated bewilderment. In my periphery, Aaron’s face drains of whatever little color he has. He curls his fingertips into his thighs, like he wants to scratch through his jeans.
“I’ve been quiet because Aaron’s got dirt on me, too,” Logan says, shooting Aaron a fearsome look before returning his attention to me. The sight causes my heart to pump faster.
“What dirt?” I demand.
“The trespassing arrest was my fault,” Logan says flatly. “I convinced Aaron to break us into the theater so I could get you gluten-free candy without buying it. And times before that when we got in trouble…the last year or so before our friendship died. Aaron was leveling out. Drawing back because his dads got him into counseling. At that point, I was enjoying the fact that Mom and Dad were looking at me, so I didn’t want him to change.”
I feel like the world is blurring. I don’t know how to react. I can barely process one sentence before he’s flying into the next.
“You know how hard it is to get Mom and Dad to slow down and look at us,” Logan says, his stare unblinking. “At the end of the day, they might have ten minutes to offer us. Do you know where those ten minutes go between the two of us, Riley?”
“I…I don’t under—”