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Brooks laughs once, then runs a hand through his hair. It’s a few inches longer than mine, flopping across his forehead. “Yeah, I know. Probably why I lost. I warned Cassia I was terrible before we started playing.”
Ihatethe casual way he says her name.
My hand tightens around the bottle I’m holding, but I don’t react otherwise. Don’t say a word. I let the silence linger until it turns awkward.
I don’t really care if Brooks is an oblivious bystander to the situation between me and Cassia or if he’s mentioning her to test my reaction. I dislike him the same amount either way.
“Mind grabbing the burger buns, man?” Finn asks Brooks.
“Yeah. Sure.” He’s quick to leave us alone.
Finn glances at me, eyebrow arched. “Could you chill the fuck out?”
“I’m chill,” I say, then sip more beer.
Finn rolls his eyes again.
Jordan walks over to us a minute later. “You didn’t tell me Cassia was coming.”
I tense as soon as I hear her name, the rest of his words taking another few seconds to register. Once they do, I turn, my grip automatically tightening on the bottle. I might break the glass.
Assuming Jordan was mistaken.
But he’s not.
I recognize the sedan as soon as I spot it. Excitement and confusion war within me.
Nothing about our conversation earlier left me with the impression she might show up here.
I abandon my beer on the table by the grill, avoiding the questioning looks aimed my way as I walk straight toward her car.
Cassia climbs out of the driver’s seat right as I reach it.
“Hi,” is the only greeting I can come up with.
I know her better than anyone else. Know her intimately. And I can’t seem to come up with a single interesting thing to say to her.
“Hi,” she repeats, fiddling with her keys like she’s nervous.
“You came.” I state the obvious.
“Yeah.” She reaches into her car and grabs a water bottle out of the cupholder, studiously avoiding eye contact as she flips off the lid and takes a sip. “Did the invitation expire after an hour or something?”
“No, of course not. I just… I didn’t think you were going to take it.”
She continues to avoid my gaze as she flips the lid back on. “I didn’t come to fight.”
“Me neither. I mean, I don’t want to fight either.” I push away from the hood and straighten. “Can we start over?”
“How far do you want to go back? High school? Middle school? Maybe the day you moved—”
I fight the smile that wants to appear in response to her heavy sarcasm. “This morning. I’m talking about this morning, Cassia.”
She looks at me, her expression serious. Then something shifts. A lightening or relaxing. Some break in the clouds. “My mom said you came by the house last night.”
“Yeah. Pop the trunk.”
Cassia flips the handle on the door, opening the back of the sedan with a softclick. I round the back of the car, grabbing her duffel and sleeping bag out of the trunk.
