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She smiled. “Uh-huh, right.”

“I was,” I insisted. “I was heartbroken when it looked like you were never going to ask.”

“Stop messing around. You didn’t want to go to the prom with me.”

I would have loved to go with Clary, but there was no way she’d believe that. She’d started to warm to me since we’d been living together, but if anything, I felt further from dating her than ever before. I was worried she’d put me in some weird kind of friend zone—and I hated it. That zone should be illegal.

“Did you have a date?” I asked.

She shook her head. “There isn’t anyone I’m interested in at the moment.”

“You don’t have to be interested in someone to go to the prom with them.”

“But it helps,” she replied.

“I guess it does.”

I slowed the truck as we pulled up outside her house. She turned to me before getting out. “I get longer than two minutes this time,” she said. Her face was stern. She was seriously cute when she was trying to be serious.

I grinned. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She sounded surprised I’d caved so easily.

“Sure. I don’t mind if you take all afternoon—as long as I get to come watch.”

Clary’s nose scrunched up with irritation. “Wouldn’t you rather just go home and come back to pick me up when I’m done?”

“Nope.” I opened my door, jumped from the truck, and started toward her house before she could object.

“I really don’t need your help!” Clary called as she rushed to catch up with me.

“I know,” I agreed. “And who said anything about help? I’m just looking for some entertainment, and you’re the most exciting thing in my life these days. What could possibly beat watching you gather more clothing?”

“Just about anything,” Clary grumbled. She fished her keys out of her pocket rather than continuing to argue the point.

I followed her inside and up to her room. Clary’s house was small compared to mine, but it was filled with so much life. The walls were painted bright colors and covered in collages of family photos. The furniture was all mismatched, but I liked how everything was unique and interesting. It actually felt like this place was lived in.

Our place looked so generic in comparison. Our living room was an exact replica of a picture Mom had seen in a Pottery Barn magazine. She didn’t have time to search for interesting pieces of furniture or put together artistic arrangements of family photos. There might have been a lot of love in our house, but it was sorely missing the homey vibes I was getting at Clary’s.

Clary’s room was a striking contrast to the rest of her house though. Her walls were white, and a pastel blue bedspread was the only pop of color in the room. It was a bit of a mess, but I knew that was completely my fault. I imagined her room was spotlessly tidy before I insisted she pack her bags in two minutes flat. It had been a joke at the time, but Clary, being Clary, took it seriously. And me, being me, I’d enjoyed her reaction far too much to end the joke.

I took a seat on Clary’s bed, making myself comfortable as I sank against her pillows. Clary watched me closely, and there was something in her gaze that I couldn’t quite decipher. She seemed to be fighting some internal battle, and her eyes kept flickering with different emotions. It was like she enjoyed seeing me on her bed but she hated it at the same time.

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly glanced away before I could figure her out. I wished I could get inside her head and find out what she’d been thinking.

“So, this is your room,” I said as she started going through her wardrobe.

“You’ve been in here before.” She remained focused on her clothes as she replied.

“Yes, but only briefly.”

“You were also uninvited,” she added. “Perhaps you would have had more time in here if I’d had more than two minutes to gather my things…”

“I can’t help that you took my joke seriously,” I admitted. She finally looked over her shoulder at me but only so she could scowl in my direction. I quickly moved on before the crease in her brow became a permanent fixture. “Now, what are you packing this time that you forgot when we did this before?”

Clary blew out a breath and shrugged as she glanced around her room. “I don’t know. Things.”

“Things?” I repeated.