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Jacob Manning
On one hand, it was kind of funny, the fact that he hadn’t waited for my response to go ahead and set up a meeting, but logically, I knew why he hadn’t really given me room to say no.
But it wasn’t like I really had a choice. As a client, he wanted to meet up to go over the website in person. A little strange, and I probably wouldn’t have done it for anyone I didn’t know, but it wasn’t like Mr. Manning was going to kidnap me and force me into his trunk. Even though I’d failed in my objective—keeping Mom from selling the house—I had to honor the contract between us. By the time Mom dropped the bomb, I’d already had it practically done, anyway. And heck, maybe if I gave Mom the money, she’d cancel the open house and take the house off the market. That was possible, right? Either way, this would be it. The final time we’d meet, exchange of payment, and then I could mark his email address as spam.
I pulled my phone up and sent a text to Rachel.
Ava
Are you asleep?
Knowing her, she probably wouldn’t go to bed until closer to midnight.
Reed
Not yet. Want to take a walk?
I’d started to type out my reply—a walk?—when I reread the name.Reed.Not Rachel.
I dropped my phone, as if that would undo my stupid mistake. How could I text the wrong Manning twin? Was this some sort of like Freudian slip?Crap, crap, crap.
I sprang upright, scrambling for an excuse. A walk? At ten at night? That was a bad idea central, and even I knew it. Besides, what would we even talk about? How the last time we saw each other, I cried all over him and passed out in his bed? Or would we talk about the time before that, when he saidwhat kiss?
My mind and my heart played tug of war, torn between what was right and what I wanted.
Ava
I’ll meet you outside in five.
It was chillier than it’d been in a long time when I shut the front door behind me, the breeze sweeping across my exposed legs. I’d worn a pair of shorts to bed and a short-sleeved shirt, and though I’d thrown on an oversized Brentwood Bobcats sweatshirt—an ancient one with tattered sleeves and a makeup-stained collar—I wished I’d thrown on a pair of sweatpants too.
I wasn’t the only one who’d underdressed. Reed had on a pair of sweatpants, but his T-shirt did nothing to cover his arms. He was already at the sidewalk by the time I stepped off my porch, the lamppost reflecting a greenish glow over him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I folded my arms across my chest, tucking my fingers into my sleeves. “Uh…which way?”
Without a word, Reed gestured off to the left, and we began our nighttime walk.
Which started off with the heavy air ofawkwardness. Our footfalls pattered against the concrete sidewalk dully, his sneakers and my flip-flops. I second-guessed all of my potential conversation starters, and Reed wasn’t jumping at the chance to say anything either, not right away. Everything that lingered between us stole the conversation before it could begin.
I looked up at the moon and the faint wisps of clouds that ambled past it. The stars were barely there, winking at me in the dark sky as if encouraging me to make the first move.
Reed suddenly pulled up short. “Let’s stop here,” he said, tilting his chin toward the playground we’d come to. It normally looked fun with all the bright colors, only now the shadowy slides and play gyms seemed a bit more ominous. “Want to swing?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I replied, but my voice sounded thin to my own ears.
Reed’s sneakers crunched over the woodchips as we walked toward the swings, but instead of sitting down, he moved behind one of the swings and grabbed the chains. “I’ll push you.”
He pulled the chains back, and with it, my insides tugged tauter and tauter. When his hands braced themselves against my shoulder blades, it was almost crazy how I could feel the touch so clearly through the thick material of my sweatshirt.
“So, what has little miss Paparazzi sending late night texts?”
The breeze combed through my hair. “It’s only ten-thirty.”
“Which is late for you.”
Of course, he’d know that. “I didn’t mean to text you,” I admitted softly, biting down on my lower lip as the momentum swung me backward. “I saw R Manning and clickedsend.”
