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“Okay.” He nods toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s only a few blocks.”
“I know I don’t have to, Denny. Come on.” He heads for the door without another word.
I sigh and follow. It’s not that I’m upset about this development—the exact opposite. That’s what worries me. My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know what’s real or fake. Friendship or relationship. Meaningful or meaningless.
The walk back to Katherine’s from the Hawleys’ is silent. I almost open my mouth a couple of times, but then I reconsider. Elliot doesn’t seem to be having a similar problem. He’s perfectly at ease as we walk along the sidewalk, past house after house. Occasionally a dog barks in the distance or a car drives by, but it’s mostly silent.
My heartbeat quickens as we reach the white Colonial. We’re all alone. Does that mean he will or won’t kiss me? It’s happened under both circumstances now.
I’m temporarily distracted by the sight of a suitcase sitting on the porch, barely visible in the light cast by the street lamp. Katherine is off at a job—a birthday party this time, I think—so the porch light hasn’t been turned on.
“Thank God,” I say dramatically. “I won’t have to wear Annabel’s clothes anymore. They’re all too small for me.”
“Yeah,” Elliot replies. “I noticed.”
The words are innocuous; the way he says them isn’t. Like henoticednoticed.
Did he not read theWhat Not to Say to a Platonic Female Friendlist? Or is he just throwing it out the window now that we’re “dating”? Is he testing me? Teasing me?
I’m not cut out for this fake dating shit. It’s going to give me an ulcer. “Okay. Well, night.” I head for the dark porch.
“You’re not going to invite me in?”
I spin back around. “I figured you were going back to the party.”
“Nah.” He takes a few steps forward, the distance between us shrinking back to a foot or less. “I’ll hang out with you or head home. But no one will be back for a couple of hours yet.”
“Where did they go?”
“To visit Jeff’s parents.”
“You didn’t go?”
Something shifts—hardens—in his eyes. “No.”
“I was going to shower, change.”
“Okay. I’ll text you tomorrow.” He starts to turn away.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Just that I’ll need a bit before we can hang out.”
He turns back toward me, looking like Christmas came early.Goddammit, Auden.“I don’t need a babysitter.”
* * *
When I enter the living room with wet hair and wearing clothes that actually fit, Elliot is already sprawled across the length of the wide sectional. The Colonial has an open floor plan. The kitchen is sectioned off by the stairwell, but the entryway, living room, and dining room are just one large space, divided by the back of the couch and the tables surrounding the oak dining table.
“You weren’t kidding about the lack of food,” he tells me as I sink down into the small space that remains.
“I know.”
“I found soda, though. And chips.” He’s spread them out on the coffee table, and I crack open a soda and take a long sip. I haven’t had anything to drink besides the hard seltzer several hours ago. “What do you want to watch?”
I set down the soda and smother a yawn. “Whatever.” Last night, I barely slept. I blame being in an unfamiliar bed, and the havoc last night’s events wreaked on my head and my heart. I can only hope I’m exhausted enough that today’s happenings won’t keep me up tonight.
We’re barely ten minutes into the spy thriller he picks when my eyes begin to droop. I can barely keep the lids open, blinking excessively in an attempt to stay awake.
