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“That’s ridiculous.”
“. . . call it like I see it . . .”
“Whatever,” my mother’s anger radiated from the floor below.
The doorbell rang, and I tensed, wondering which neighbor had heard them fighting this time. The other night, Mrs. Wheeler had come knocking on the door to make sure everything was all right.
Nope.It’s okay,Mrs. Wheeler, you know, just another one of the Randall’s blowouts, I wanted to say.Instead, with shame burning in my gut, I told her I’d ask them to keep it down.
I listened, waiting for my parents to answer the door, but they didn’t even pause in their fighting this time. Even when the doorbell competed to be heard, their voices rose.
Shooting up from my bed, I hurried across my room and peered out the window facing the road. My eyes focused on the old, black Jeep Wrangler sitting in our driveway, and my stomach turned in on itself. It was Carson’s Jeep.
I didn’t walk down the stairs, I ran. My feet pounded over the creaking stair treads, each thump of my foot bringing me closer to the door, while my insides screamed,Don’t let him hear. Please, don’t let him hear.
My feet hit the landing, and off to my right, I caught sight of my parents, standing toe-to-toe. Mom pointed in Dad’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her voice reached epic proportions. Nails on a chalkboard had nothing on her otherworldly screeching.
In a rush, I flung the door open and stepped outside, slamming it closed behind me. My chest rose and fell in a rapid staccato as I tried to calm my breathing and gain control, but it was no use. I realized much too late that I was standing only inches from Carson. I peered up into his eyes, the color so vibrant it was nearly alive and churning like the ocean. The scent of his cologne wafted toward me, and I had to fight the urge to lean into him. To inhale all that cedarwood and spice and let it comfort me.
“Uh, now’s not really a good time,” I said weakly. My cheeks heated with embarrassment as my parent’s screaming match carried through the door. There wasn’t steel thick enough to block out the sound of them. As if my first encounter with him after his party weren’t tense enough.
“I thought we’d go shopping for the Angel Program. We have less than a week now.”
“Right. True. But we could go tomorrow. I’ll meet you at your house,” I said, placing my hands on his shoulders and spinning him around.
Carson easily shrugged me off and turned back toward me, his mouth turned down into a frown. “No.” Carson shook his head.
“No?” I stared at him, incredulous.
“No. We’re going now. Come on. Swim practice is over, and I have no plans but to spend the rest of the day shopping with you. Let’s go.”
I glanced back to the closed door. “But . . . I don’t have my things.”
“You don’t need anything.”
I bit my lip. “My purse, and my wallet . . .”
From inside the house, my father’s voice boomed, “I’m so sick of this,” he shouted, and I jumped.
Training my gaze on the ground, I was unable to meet Carson’s eyes. The only thing worse than facing your nemesis after an awkward evening was facing him when your world was falling apart. It put you on uneven footing.
But Carson never went easy on me. It wasn’t his style. Instead, he pressed his fingers under my chin, tilting my gaze up to his, making me face him. “Come on. I’ll buy us dinner afterward,” he coaxed. “All you need are shoes and a jacket,” he said, glancing down to my socked feet.
When I didn’t budge, he added, “Please.”
And there it was. That same look he had Saturday night in his kitchen, the one that told me he wanted to kiss me. The one that told me maybe he and I could be more than enemies.
I shoved down the ache in the back of my throat and signaled for him to wait as I ran inside, retrieving a pair of boots and a jacket from the coat closet in the hallway as quickly as possible. I didn’t even bother to tell my parents I was going out because the chances of them even noticing my absence were slim to none. These days, when I wasn’t at school or with Ethan, I spent nearly all my time cooped up in my room.
Once I popped back outside, I hurried down the sidewalk where Carson waited for me by his Jeep. My heart swelled then. Carson had given me a Get Out of Jail Free card, and I intended to use it.
Chapter 20
MIA
IsettledintoCarson’sJeep and surveyed my surroundings. It was my first time being in his car, and like his room, it smelled of him—a combination of chlorine from the pool and cologne. Nothing was out of place, and it appeared that he took excellent care of it.
After I buckled my seatbelt, he started the engine and twisted in his seat so he could back down my driveway. Avoiding my eye, he said, “Mia, about the other night . . .”
