I wipe away the tear before it makes it past the curve of my cheek just as my phone vibrates against the desktop. I scoot forward to scan the notification; the message is short enough I can read it all in the preview.
THEO:Where RU?
Chapter18
Theo
LILY:I’m right here.
Some other girl, any other situation, I’d chalk that response up to playing games, being coy.
Not Lily.
That was honest.
She’s right there—mine if I want her.
Mrs. Fuentes keeps glancing at my plate. Probably because, while her son and Cameron have completely cleared theirs and moved on to seconds, I’ve basically pushed cheese and sour cream around my plate for ten minutes.
“It’s all right if you don’t like it,” she finally whispers.
I’m being rude.
“Oh, no. I have something on my mind is all. It’s . . . it’s good.” I scoop up a pile and shovel it in my mouth and barely taste it. It smells amazing and I’m sure it’s as great as everything she makes, but all I can taste is Lily.
All I smell is Lily.
My fingers vibrate with reminders of her skin. My head is so twisted trying to sort out this pull I have to her, along with the things she makes me feel. She makes me hurt, but she also makes me feel alive.
She’s the one person in this entire world who gets my pain. And that’s part of the problem. I see that pain in her, and I don’t want any more of it.
“Should be a pretty easy game Saturday,” James says, and it’s obvious he’s trying to guide the discussion to something neutral. Without it, though, we’d be sitting here having zero conversation.
“Don’t take Augustine for granted. They’re a good squad,” his dad says, tapping his fork on his son’s plate, then nods toward me. “You and he need to get that pass sequence down tighter. Too much room to get picked.”
“We’ll nail it,” James assures, glancing across the table to me with his perfect-ass smile. My foot is bouncing under my chair while above the table I’m doing my best to swallow down forkful after forkful. At this point, I simply want to leave.
James leans to his side and slips his phone from his pocket, glancing down at it in his palm, which is hidden by the table.
“No phones at the table, son,” his dad scolds and his son apologizes, putting it away and promptly turning his attention to clearing the table.
“That was the best meal I’ve ever had, Mrs. Coach,” Cameron says, leaning back in his chair enough to lift the front legs from the ground as he rubs his belly. James’ mom stands to help clear the table, stopping behind Cameron and giving his shoulder a pat. His gaze falls to her touch and lingers on his shoulder long after she’s gone. Cameron doesn’t talk about his mom, or his dad for that matter. His parents are off-limits, and a mystery.
While my roommate dismisses himself and returns to the gaming console in the living room, I take the pile of plates from Mrs. Fuentes’ hands and join James at the sink and dishwasher.
“Thanks, man,” he says as I pile the dishes in and rinse while he loads them into the machine. We’re removed from the others, enough that the tension between us is more obvious.
“That Lily? The text?” My ask is pretty fucking obvious.
James chuckles and glances my way as he bends down to drop in a plate. He quirks a brow.
“You know I’m not a dick, right? I’m just a nice guy. Or I try to be,” he says.
I kill the water and leave the remaining pile soaking in the sink while I take a towel from the counter and dry my hands.
“That so?”I’m not such a nice guy.
He stands up straight, a few inches taller than me—asshole—and smirks.