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I make it to the hall first, and my gaze drifts to the side where Landon’s bedroom is. I’ve looked at that door with dread and anticipation before, but right now, we’re not alone, so I feel relaxed.
My phone buzzes and my heart flips over.
That relaxed feeling melts away and my gaze shoots to Landon.
He’s watching me, but not with suspicion—until he notices my deer in the headlights expression, of course.
“I have to pee,” I state abruptly, before ducking back inside the theater room so I can use the bathroom.
Once the door is closed and locked, I lean against it and look down at my phone.
Then I see it was only a text from Mom, so I didn’t need to panic, after all.
My shoulders sink with relief as I shoot her a quick text back. I decide I probably should pee while I’m in here. It will only highlight my strange behavior if I return promptly, looking like I did exactly what I actually did—hid in the bathroom so I could check a text.
“Shady ass behavior,” I mutter to myself as I sit down. “I need to get it together.”
Apparently having invited fate to mess with me, right as I’m washing my hands, my phone goes off again. I’m casual this time when I look, expecting it to be Mom.
This timeit’s Javi.
I make quick work of drying my hands, then I swipe open the message.
“I’m off tonight. You should come over and impress me with your cooking skills,” it says, with a winky emoji following the text.
Oh my god,what?
Excuses fly one after the other through my brain before I stop to think: do Iwantto go over?
I can’t because Hannah’s here, but Hannah could go home. She’s probably only still here because she knows I can’t be left alone with Landon.
I have homework to do because I’ve just spent over four hours lazing around watching movies with Landon and Hannah. True, but when we started Catching Fire, I already resigned myself to having to stay up late tonight to get my homework done.
Suddenly, the wood behind my back reverberates violently as Landon pounds on it. A surge of panic has me jumping away from the door, my stomach twisting and my heart exploding in a flurry of activity.
“Hannah and I are going to start dinner. Meet us out by the grill.”
Heart in my throat, I try to shake off the cold fear that was triggered by him beating on the door of a room I locked myself inside and call back, “Okay.”
My voice is shaky and uncertain, and I realizethatis why I never considered going, only which excuse I could use for why I wouldn’t be there.
It’s probably only because we were in a dark room with a buffer between us and not interacting with each other, but Landon invited us to watch that movie and then we had a nice time.
It feels… a little like he’s reaching out.
I’ve spentyearswaiting for that, so apparently, no matter what he’s done, I can’t just smack his hand away the first time it actually happens.
My Landon shit issonot handled.
Sighing with disappointment, I quickly type back, “I don’t think I can tonight, sorry. We’re about to eat dinner, and I have a lot of homework.”
I feel guilty as soon as I press send.
It’s all true, but it’s notthetruth.
And I like Javi. I know if I went over to his place and made dinner with him instead of Landon, we’d have a nice time. It would be easy. At no point would I feel anything comparable to locking myself in a bathroom because I’m afraid the guy I’m with might see my texts and hurt someone over it. I would experience nothing close to a trauma flashback when the criminal outside reminded me of his past sins by banging on a damn door.
That feeling in my gut gets worse when he types back, “no problem. Enjoy your dinner,” with a smiley emoji that makes me feel gross.
