Page 10
Canyon Pass High School has less than four hundred students. Neither of us is what you’d call popular, and we run in different circles—she’s more academic, while I prefer music and art.
My mom eyes the two of us curiously, trying to decode the awkward teenage communication. “I’m gonna wash up and get changed. Tate, get Talia a drink, would ya? Dinner will be in fifteen.”
The silence stretches on and on and on until it becomes almost too painful to bear. I’m sweating—everywhere—and a million different questions zip through my brain.
I turn to grab a glass from the cupboard when she finally speaks.
“Do you know your fly is down?” Her voice is soft, soothing, doing nothing to settle the raging humiliation assaulting me.
I subtly glance down, and yep, I catch a glimpse of my white boxers peeking through my zipper.
I’ll be asking my mom to transfer schools the second Talia leaves, but for now, I play it cool.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I know.”
“You know?” Humor laces her voice.
Glasses in hand, I face her again, and I don’t miss the laughter threatening to break through her stiff facade. I’ve seen her smile a few times in school; polite ones to teachers and genuine ones to her small group of friends, but when this one cracks through the surface, I’m left speechless all over again.
It’s illegal how pretty she is.
Cherry lips frame perfectly straight teeth, and the whites of her eyes disappear as she grins, leaving only glittering rings of amber. Her shoulders shake with laughter. I decide there and then, making Talia Evans laugh is my purpose in life.
I don’t even care if it’s at my expense. She can laugh at me until the cows come home if this is my reward. I’m not unfamiliar with being the laughingstock, but this feels different, and I puff my chest out in satisfaction.
“This is my home. I’m the man of the house, so I’ll dress how I like,” I reply with a faux authoritative tone, making her giggle harder.
“Don’t let me cramp your style.” Talia settles onto one of the four dining chairs and folds her hands in her lap.
I raise a glass in her direction. “Soda? Water? Juice?”
“Juice, please.”
While I make our drinks, I think of what to say next. Talk about school? Maybe I can pretend I need to borrow her textbooks. Asking her to be my girlfriend is a little forward. Isn’t it?
When I sit across from her and slide her glass of orange juice across the table, my brain malfunctions. Again!
Pull yourself together, Tate.
“Why are you here?”
She recoils at my abruptness.
“Shit, not—”
“Language!” my mom hollers from upstairs. The woman has supersonic hearing and has probably heard every moment of this humiliating interaction.
“I didn’t mean it like that, just…” I scratch my jaw. “Well, it’s kinda random my mom turning up with a dinner guest. Especially one of my classmates.”
And you, of all people.
Talia’s lips corkscrew in discomfort, and I curse myself. Here sits the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’m royally screwing it up with my big mouth.
“Not that I even care. You can stay. Or leave,” I rush out.
Smooth.
“Thanks for the permission. If you must know, your mom drove by me sitting on my front porch. I was a little…upset.” She shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. “She invited me for dinner and didn’t look like a murderer, so I said yes.”
