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“I guess I got caught up in the excitement of our study,” he continues. “Here, let me make it up to you. How about dinner tonight?”
Seems like that’s all the acknowledgement I’ll get about it, then.
“I have plans.” And honestly, I’m too annoyed to have dinner with him.
I move past him on the stairs, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “But you’re always free Thursday nights. You didn’t pick up another shift at the diner, did you?”
“No.”
I leave it at that, not wanting to bring up that my plans are with Austin. On Tuesday, we worked on me getting more comfortable with a potential attacker approaching, to the point where I barely flinch. It’s not much, but it’s progress. Thank goodness he’s so patient with me.
Joel’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “You’re seeing that guy, aren’t you? The one from your Tuesday group.”
And this is why I didn’t mention it. He got all weird about it before. “He’s teaching me self-defense.”
“Didn’t you do that last week?”
I move my arm so I’m no longer within his reach. “It’s an ongoing process. Why do you keep bringing it up?”
“Because I’m worried about you.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. What in the world could he possibly be worried about? “Why?”
He purses his lips, moving closer. “He’s not good for you.”
My brows narrow. “You literally don’t know him. He’s a friend. My neighbor. Ask Tyler to vouch for him if you’re so concerned. They box together.”
He scoffs. “Tyler’s not exactly the best judge of character.”
What’s he got against Tyler? “Well, what about me? You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. But you can also be kind of… naive at times.”
I tilt my head, clamping my mouth shut so the first thing that comes to mind doesn’t fly out. He wants to talk about naive? He’s never had a job in his life, relying on his parents’ generous monthly allowance along with everything else they pay for him. He literally has nothing to stress about.
“Can you give me an example?” I ask through clenched teeth. Seriously, where is this coming from?
“Listen, I don’t want to fight. I’m sorry I said anything.”
Sorry I called him out on it, he means?
“I’ll bring you a venti coffee next week,” he says enticingly. As if I’d sweep this all under the rug because of that?
“I don’t like coffee,” I mutter as I head down the stairs.
“Tessa—”
“Make it a chai tea,” I shout from halfway down the next landing. Continuing this conversation won’t go anywhere. Better to cool down some.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later there’s a rhythmic knock at the door, reminiscent of the “Shave and a Haircut” tune. That’s weird. I didn’t take Austin for that kind of knocker. That’s something more like… No, I’m being silly.
But the thought won’t leave me as I head to answer it. Joel knows I have plans. He wouldn’t interrupt me at home. Especially not after how he acted earlier.
Each footstep seems harder to take, though, the simple distance between the couch and front door multiplying, something deep in my gut knowing it’s not Austin on the other side.
He could just be early. He could be that kind of knocker.
