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Still wearing my sneakers, I take one step up the stairs.
Mom grips the fabric of my jacket, tugging me back down. “Not so fast. We have a guest.”
I raise an eyebrow. “No, we don’t. It’s just Caleb.”
She pushes me a foot closer to the living room. “You need to get out of your room and spend time with kids your own age.”
I bury my heels into the floor, squirming to get away. “I don’t want to.”
She pushes harder. “Five minutes. Otherwise, I’ll turn off the Wi-Fi.”
My face falls.
I’ve lost. Playing the Wi-Fi card is low, but she knows it’s my only weakness right now. Without it, how am I supposed to watch my movies or TV shows? Sure, there are the random DVDs we have in the living room collecting dust, but I don’t have any way to watch them in my room.
“You can help put the groceries away while you’re in there,” Mom says.
I shake Mom off with a fierce glare as I walk past the couch and into the kitchen.
She grins optimistically in return, waving me on.
Caleb is already taking things out of the bag and setting them on the counter. He smiles at me as I walk up to him.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. They’re awkward, no matter how I position them.
He’s holding a box of cereal.
I reach for it. “I can put that away.”
He tosses it to me, and it grazes my fingers, fumbling in the air. I catch it seconds before it crashes to the ground. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something funny.
“No comment,” I say, shoving the box into the cupboard.
“But I have such a good one.”
“I’m sure.” I grab the pack of cherry soda, taking a few to set in the fridge for later—they’re my beverage of choice, and I prefer to have some cold at all times. It’s way better than pouring it into a cup with ice cubes. The ice is always too cold and makes my teeth hurt.
Caleb takes the eggs and hands them to me as soon as I set the cans on the fridge shelf. “There’s a group going bowling tonight. Are you going?”
I turn my head slowly and narrow my eyes. “In all of your seventeen years of life, have you ever seen me pick up a bowling ball? No.”
He shrugs. “I think you’d be good at it. You have a knack for knocking things over. Just look at what you did to me yesterday.”
My jaw drops, and I jump closer, covering his mouth with my palm. “Be quiet,” I say, scanning the living room for Mom. Thankfully, she isn’t in sight. When the horrifying realization that my hand hasn’t moved hits me, I flinch away from Caleb. “Don’t joke like that. It’s not funny. I don’t need my mom playing matchmaker.”
He leans against the counter. His head tilts to the side. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t think you could handle all this?” He gestures to himself.
I close the fridge door. “Trust me. I’m good.”
“Your loss.”
I suck in a breath. “You’re right. I’m devastated.”
He laughs, taking an apple out of the bag and biting into it. “Whatever you say, Bec.”
“Stop calling me that. You know I hate that nickname.”
He bites at his smile. “I would, but it’s a little too perfect.”
