AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Right out there.
In broad daylight.
As if it’s a topic to be discussed on the street.
Doesn’t he know we don’t rehash our most embarrassing moments? We slowly back away and never speak of them again.
What in the world do I do if he brings it up again?
Promptly at 5:30 p.m., there’s a knock on the door and my stomach decides it’s the best time to become a gymnast and perform an Olympic floor routine.
“They’re here!” Mom practically shouts this on her way to the door, shooing my dad out of his recliner as she does.
Seconds later, Mack comes into the kitchen, and I use every ounce of my energy to keep from watching the door for Owen.
This whole “conflicting feelings thing” going on inside me is not my favorite. Why can’t I just move on? He’s not my person!
I hear his voice in the entryway, chatting with my dad about some football game. Probably the one blaring from the television. I force myself to focus on Mack.
“Back at home!” She grins at me. “You and Owen both. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You could’ve stayed with me,” she says, grabbing a corn chip and dunking it in my mom’s homemade queso.
“Now you tell me,” I groan. But the truth is, I don’t mind staying with my parents. There’s something instantly cozy about being here, and it’s nice to not be alone.
Mom walks back in, a trail of people following behind. I spot Owen and quickly look away, busying myself with the chopping of the vegetables, a task I loathe but begged for in hopes of calming my nerves and occupying my hands.
Turns out using a knife when you’re nervous isn’t the best idea.
I set it down and open the refrigerator. I pretend I need something out of it, but really, I just want to cool down. My face is on fire.
“You’re right on time,” Mom says. “Dinner is all ready, and Emmy’s pie is happily baking in the oven.”
“It smells wonderful, Emmy,” Mrs. Larrabee says.
I close the fridge, empty-handed, and face her. “Thank you.”
“You’ve become quite the little baker, haven’t you?” she says.
Mack reaches over and pinches my cheek. “Aw, quite the little baker.”
Her mom takes this for what it is—Mack making fun of her—and shakes her head, smiling. “Oh, you two. I was paying her a compliment. I had a pumpkin scone the other day at Book Smart, and it was to die for.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Larrabee,” I say pointedly at Mack. She responds by clasping her hands in a mock “my hero” pose—to which I respond by throwing a towel at her face.
Something inside me settles. This is my place. These are my people.
I glance at Owen.
Except for him.
“Let’s head into the dining room!” Mom says. “Dinner is ready.”
“I haven’t had your mom’s goulash since we were in high school,” Mack says as she picks up a big salad bowl. “It’s my favorite.”
I frown, trying to hide my disgust but failing. “Really?”
