Page 29

“This was his idea?”

“Hey, Jamie, we’re not conspiring against you.” Mom wipes her hands dry on her jeans before opening the fridge. She grabs some ingredients and places them on the island, moving the fresh produce to the counter by the sink. Back at the island, Mom pulls out a huge piece of red meat from the butcher paper. “I know all of this can’t be easy on you, but the Camerons are our friends, and we can’t dictate who Eli invites into his own home.” The doorbell rings and Mom shrugs, holding up her dirty hands. “Would you get that?”

I rise from my seat and head to the front door. As soon as I’m done with lunch I’m going back to my room and finishing this contract so I can focus on making myself look as irresistible as possible tonight. I turn the knob and open the door to find Ben on the other side, carrying a silver platter.

“Hey,” he says, as my stomach somersaults onto itself. His floppy hair partially covers his eyes. I kind of want to brush it away but fight the urge. “My mom told me to bring this over.”

I take the platter from him and swallow, unsure of what to say or how to act. “Thanks.”

We stand there, quiet, both seemingly studying the grains in Eli’s wood floor.

“You have a little…” He points to the space next to his lips.

“Oh.” I feel around my face before wiping off the Nutella residue.

“Looking forward to tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah. Can’t wait to ride some…rides,” I say, fully aware of how foolish I sound.

He laughs. “I never thought I’d see Jamie T-F on a roller coaster. You don’t even go one number over the speed limit while driving.”

“That’s because I adhere to the laws of our town. Besides, Axel’s adventurous and he’s influenced me to break out of my old and stiff ways.”

“I didn’t think your ways were old and stiff,” he says, a small smile edging its way onto his perfect lips. God, I miss kissing those lips. The lips he now uses to kiss Olivia Chen. I want so badly to make a smart remark about how if he truly felt those things about me, he wouldn’t have dumped me for someone else, but less is more. I need to remind him of all the good parts of me.

A car horn beeps in the near distance. I glance over Ben’s shoulder to see that obnoxious baby-blue BMW. “I’ve got to go. Olivia’s waiting,” he says. “See you later.”

I raise my hand to wave but instead bring the platter up and almost smack him in the face with it. I clear my throat as I bring it down. A poor attempt to distract him from my loser move. “Later.”

After watching him get into Olivia’s car, I stop short of slamming the door and make my way back to the kitchen. I place the platter on the island and toss the second half of my sandwich in the compost, having completely lost my appetite.

“Was that Ben?” Mom asks, slicing the meat slab into steaks.

“Yes. It was Ben.”

“Judging by the fact that I didn’t hear a screaming match, I take it you and he are now cordial?”

“Glad to see you think so highly of me,” I say.

“I didn’t want to say anything last night, since you were already upset,” Mom says, moving Eli’s sharp knife through the meat, “but I think you’re moving on a tad too quickly from Ben.”

“No. You’ve made yourself pretty clear.” I stand on the other side of the island, leering down at her.

“So then you’re serious about this boy?”

My eyes flit to the floor. It’s harder to lie to someone when you look directly at them. “Yeah.”

“It isn’t healthy to jump from one relationship to the next. And I don’t like that you brought him into your bedroom.”

“You let Ben come into my room.”

She gathers up the scraps of meat and tosses them into the compost before looking up at me. “No. I didn’t. But you don’t listen. And I trust Ben a heck of a lot more than I trust this Axel person. To be honest, I have a hard time seeing what you like about him.”

“You don’t even know him.” The truth is, I don’t really know him either, but I feel myself growing defensive regardless.

She turns on the faucet with her elbow and begins washing her hands. “I know enough. His parents are Arabs. That means he’s probably a mama’s boy who has never picked a dirty sock upoff the floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if his mother still cuts his steak up for him into tiny little pieces.”

“Where is this coming from?” I ask. Her hands have now formed a soapy lather while my heart pounds against my chest in fast, heavy beats.