“So, what exactly qualifies you to tutor me?”
God, what the hell is with this guy? Here I am, offering up my time to help him, and he’s giving me crap about my qualifications?
“Okay, yeah, you know what? You’re right. You should probably just hire a professional.”
I put some much-needed distance between us, fully prepared to leave this whole strange situation behind me when he calls after me.
“Tomorrow.”
“What?” I peek at him over my shoulder, and there’s a lingering curiosity in his gaze that draws me in. His eyes move over me in lazy appraisal, and I hope he hasn’t noticed the flush on my face.
“Tomorrow at four,” he says. “Tutoring.”
“Four.” I nod because I’m still not sure what the hell just happened. The way he says tutoring makes it sound like sex.
“Oh, and Kailani?” he calls out again.
“Yeah?”
“Bring back my pineapple.”“Hi, honey,” my mom greets me as I walk into the kitchen after practice. “How was school?”
There’s a nervous edge to her voice, and I feel guilty because I know she doesn’t have any idea what to expect from me anymore. I’m like a hellhound that just showed up one day in the body of her daughter. It isn’t fair to her that I’ve been so moody, and I hate that things feel so tense between us. Especially when I seem to be on the outs with everyone lately.
She’s prepping a tray of her homemade granola for the oven, and the sweet scent of cinnamon and coconut makes me feel homesick for her love. I know when she smiles at me, it’s still there, but she has a lot of reasons to be disappointed in me.
When I was a bitch to Landon the other day, and he left, it looked like I’d taken an ice pick straight to her heart. She came back with the dessert she’d worked so hard on, eager to have us eat it, only to find him gone and me sulking in my chair. Of course, I didn’t eat it because I was too worried about the calories. It’s official. I’m an asshole.
“Mama—” My voice breaks a little, and I try to maintain some composure as I slide onto the barstool across from her. “I’m sorry I’ve been… a total nightmare.”
“Oh, Kail.” Her eyes shine with emotion when she looks up at me. “I know things are hard sometimes. You’re at that age when you’re trying to figure out who you are, and believe me when I say I know it isn’t easy. I’m sure you think I’m a million years old, but I was there once too. I just want you to know you can talk to me about anything. I’ll always be here.”
I offer her a watery smile because it’s all I can do without breaking. She really is perfect. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like her. I often wonder what she would tell me to do if she knew the truth about my situation. I know she wouldn’t condone my hate sick heart, and she’d want me to find a way to heal. But I don’t think she’d agree that steamrolling over everyone is the path to inner peace. That’s probably why I just can’t bring myself to tell her.
She drizzles some honey over the oat mixture, tossing it around with her spatulas while I watch. I’m tempted to steal a piece right now, but that stupid voice is always in the back of my mind, reminding me what’s at stake.
“Have you ever met Landon’s mom?” I ask while she’s distracted.
Her hands pause, and she blinks up at me. Sadness washes over her features, and she gives a little shake of her head. “No, I haven’t. I get the impression she’s not around very much.”
Well, that explains the parties at his place almost every weekend.
“Is that why you and Theo started having him over for dinner?”
She chews on her lip. “Does it really bother you, honey?”
“No,” I lie. Only a little. Only because it’s hard to be around him when everything is so confusing, and maybe a small part of me feels like he wormed his way in here while I was gone.
“I thought you two were friends,” she answers cautiously. “That first summer he was here, you seemed to get along with the tutoring and everything.”
“Yeah, we did.” I toy with the hem of my skirt. “But we are just from two different worlds, you know.”
“I get that.” She sets down the spatulas and wipes her hands. “But just because his life looks one way on the outside doesn’t mean it’s all it’s cracked up to be.”
I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me, but I don’t want to grill her too much. She’ll get suspicious about my curiosity, and I’m not prepared to have that conversation with her right now.