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It’s not the pajamas that have my mind in a jumbled mess. All I can think about is what happened last night when I opened my heart to him like he was my therapist or something.
Darn it. I told him to pretend it never happened…and now he’s in my house.
“Willow, don’t be rude,” Mia says, eye-signaling toward Colton. He looks back and forth between me and my sister.
I’m not rude. I’m standing before him in pajamas and all my brain can do is replay the conversation we had at the party. What possessed me to spill my concerns to him?
I turn to my sister. “What’s he doing here?” I hiss to her in Korean.
“He’s my tutor,” she responds, also in Korean.
“I get that, but why’s hehere, in our house? And where are Mom and Dad?”
“At the restaurant. You know, like they go every Saturday? What’s with you?”
I play with my hair. “Why couldn’t you go to the library? And why isheyour tutor?”
I don’t understand him. Why does he pretend to be a popular kid who only cares about himself when he’s really good at school? And he’s here at nine in the morning on a weekend?
“My teacher recommended him to Mom,” Mia tells me. “And you’re still being so rude. If you wouldn’t have quit on me—”
“You need to go somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t this house—”
“You know, that’s very impolite,” Colton interrupts. “Talking in front of me in a language I don’t understand.”
I throw my hands up. “It’s Korean.”
“I know that. But I don’t think it’s right to talk in front of me when I can’t understand.”
“I don’t care.” I face my sister. “Get him out of here,” I continue in Korean.
She places her hands on her hips. “Where are we supposed to go?”
“The library?”
She makes a face. “Why can’t we study here? It’s not like we’ll bother you.”
Colton releases a frustrated grunt as he slides his hands into his pockets, the way popular guys do when they think they’re so good looking.
“We’re staying here,” Mia says in English. “So tough.”
Colton raises his brows at me. “You don’t want us to study here?”
I shoot my sister a look. “You know what? I don’t care. Just stay out of my way and everything will be fine.” I walk away, then whirl back around. “I need food.”
They watch me as I grab a bowl, spoon, and the cereal box. My eyes meet Colton’s confused ones—like he doesn’t understand why I’m being so weird—before I pull away and leave.
But then I stop in the doorway and peek inside. Mia’s showing Colton the kitchen, telling him random memories that happened here. Like when she accidentally spilled juice on the floor when she was four and Dad walked in. He slipped and fell, injuring his hand. He was in the middle of filming a movie and production had to stop for him to heal.
“And then there was the time when—”
“Mia, these stories are great, but we should probably get started.”
“Right. Okay. My mom said we should use the dining room because the table is bigger.”
My eyes widen as he and Mia advance toward me, and I quickly turn to go upstairs, but the cereal box drops to the floor with a loud thump. Then the bowl crashes down on top of it.
“Super,” I mutter.
