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“You cleaned?” she asks me, making a show of looking around the first floor.
I laugh. The house has never looked worse, and it’s messy on its best day.
We head toward the kitchen. I nod my head at the familiar faces calling out to me, but I don’t stop and talk to anyone.
Once we’re in the kitchen, there’s a little less attention.
“You want a drink?” I ask Lennon, pulling open the fridge door. The pizza Drew ordered late last night is sitting on the shelf in an open box. I shake my head and pull down the lid.
“Sure,” she answers, surprising me.
I glance at her. “Alcohol?”
She nods, leaning against the counter in front of the sink. I pull out a bottle of beer for myself and a seltzer for her, mixing the flavored water with a shot of vodka.
Right after I hand the cup to her, I see the glass crack. My right hand flies up reflexively, catching the baseball flying through the air at a speed that makes my hand sting.
Lennon’s eyes are huge, glancing between my hand and the shattered window. The ball missed her by inches. Maybe less.
Jamie rushes into the kitchen first. Drew is right behind him, his gaze unfocused. He’s drunk.
Elliot arrives next, and whistles. “Nice reflexes, Winters.”
“What thefuck?” I spit.
Drew raises both hands in a placating gesture. “We can fix the window. I thought Jamie would catch it. It was a good throw, man.” That last sentence in aimed at Jamie, who shrugs.
“I’m not worried about thewindow. You almost hit Lennon!”
More people are crowding the kitchen, looking at the shattered glass and the pissed-off expression I’m wearing.
“I’m fine, Caleb,” Lennon whispers. Her hand lands on my arm, squeezing once. “I’m fine.”
“It was stupid, Lennon. I’m sorry. Glad you’re not hurt. Not only because Caleb probably would have never talked to me again.”
I snort. Lennon’s hand slides down my arm, tangling her fingers with mine.
“Come on outside, guys,” Elliot says, in an obvious attempt to dispel the tension. “Lennon, you can play on my cornhole team. Winters is banned.”
When I look at Lennon, her expression is pleading. I have to stop imagining how that throw could have just hurt her.
I nod, and her face relaxes before she looks at Elliot. “Why? Caleb has terrible aim.”
Laughter fills the room before Lennon pulls me toward the door that leads to the back deck. I toss Drew the baseball as I pass him, accompanied with a warning look. Drunk at a party isn’t a good time for pitching. Never mind I’ve done the same thing myself.
Sandy Peterson is coming up the steps from the yard as we cross the deck.
“Hey, neighbors.” He grins at me and Elliot, then his gaze slides to Lennon. Recognition replaces friendliness. “Garbage bin girl!”
“I prefer to go by Lennon,” Lennon replies, smiling back at him.
“Right, of course. I should have asked for your name.” He chuckles. Coming from a guy who’s never bothered me before, it’s grating. “I’m Sandy.”
Sandy holds out his hand to shake Lennon’s. Elliot shoots me an amused look behind Lennon’s back.
“I’ve looked for you every other night I’ve been on trash duty, you know. I’d given up on ever seeing you again.”
Forget recognition, he’s full-on flirting.
