My feelings didn’t matter, because he was never going to stay in Creek Falls. Not like my brother. Leo wasn’t leaving again, he’d said as much to Mom, but Ethan hadn’t.
He would leave, just like he always did.
If I didn’t get a handle on my feelings, I’d end up in a worse place than I was right now.
Another sigh escaped me. Damn it.
No. I needed to do something. As much as I didn’t want to live with him right now, I didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t move out overnight, and neither would I make him leave.
My gaze fell on his shoes.
One of my passive-aggressive moves was going to be to steal all the insoles of his shoes. Sure, he had one pair that he was wearing, but if it was half as irritating as it was when he stole my socks…
Which I still didn’t have back, for what it was worth.
I shuffled off the bed. Mr. Prickles tilted his little head to the side, almost as if he was asking me what I was doing. I pressed a finger to my lips—as if he could talk—and quickly and carefully poked through Ethan’s closet.
He had three pairs of shoes in here. A pair of sneakers, a second pair that were running shoes, and smart shoes.
I took the insoles from all of them.
I had to laugh at myself. This was a completely ridiculous way to make this work, but if it worked…
Well, then my life went back to normal.
Where I was in love with someone I could never be with, and the only happy ending I was getting was provided by seven inches of plastic and two double-A batteries.
At least it wouldn’t argue with me.
***
I tossed the sliced pepper into the pan with the chicken and the sliced onion. I had, once again, made enough food to feed a football team, but I figured I’d be a nice person and leave the fajita fixings covered in the fridge for Ethan whenever he decided to come back.
Food was the great equalizer, after all. Nothing said, ‘I’m sorry, let’s be friends’ like good food.
Food said a lot of things, actually, but it was my love language, that was for sure.
I added the spice mix and stirred, blending it all together, and let it cook on low heat. My eyes darted to the time on my lock screen. I was hyper-aware of it, and I knew Ethan would be coming back at some point this evening.
As it was, it was already six-thirty, and he should have finished work an hour and a half ago.
I was on borrowed time. I was avoiding him, and I was already taking a risk by being in the kitchen right now. He could walk in at any time.
A key turned in the lock.
Like now.
Right now.
Crap on a cracker.
Swallowing, I quickly let my hair down out of its loose bun. It was dark enough and thick enough that it would hide me from him if I wanted it to. It was totally a defense mechanism for me, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
“Hey.”
I stirred the fajita mix. “Hey.”
“I brought pizza.”
Turning, I looked at him for the first time since he’d left over twenty-four hours ago. His hair was in its usual messy style, the stubble that coated his jaw was a little longer than usual, and there was hesitance in his eyes. An unasked question.
There was also an oil smudge on his cheek.
“I’m making fajitas.” I shuffled side to side. “I was going to save some of the chicken for you. I made too much.”
“Oh. No worries. I just thought… never mind.” He smiled tightly and put the box down on the coffee table so he could shrug off his backpack.
“I guess you thought the same as me.”
“That I was hungry?”
“No. That food makes everything better.”
He tugged his lips to the side. “Something like that. If I knew you were cooking…”
“No, it’s fine. You can always reheat it for lunch.” I glanced down at the pizza box. God, it smelled good. “Or I can box it all up, and we can eat it tomorrow instead?”
He tilted his head to the side. “You’re gonna eat the pizza?”
“It smells good.” I bit the side of my bottom lip and dragged it through my teeth. “It’s not like I made grilled cheese that can’t be reheated.”
“Or we could have cold pizza for breakfast.”
“We could. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. You decide.”
“If I could, I’d have told you already.”
“Why don’t we have both?”
“What?”
His eyes sparkled with laughter. “A fajita and pizza. That way, both our olive branches are extended, and we both win.”
It was the weirdest icebreaker I’d ever heard in my life.
That was probably why it was going to work.
“All right then.” I nodded and reached for the tortillas. “Give me two minutes.”
“I need to change anyway.” He pushed off from the island. “This shirt is Noah’s, and I need to wash it.”
“I have a load I need to do. You can put it with mine.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Also, your cheek has oil on it.” I cradled the lettuce close to me and tapped my finger against my right cheek. “Just there.”
He rubbed his cheek and checked his fingers. “Shit. No wonder they looked at me weird in the pizza place.”
I bit back a laugh as he disappeared.
Okay. This wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. We were clearly both trying to make amends and make this as normal as it possibly could be.
Whether we’d succeed was another matter. It was a good start, though.
I diced the lettuce and grabbed the shredded cheese from the fridge. I made two fajitas and set them on different plates, and by the time I put both plates down on the coffee table next to the pizza, Ethan came back through.
“Thanks for feeding Mr. Prickles.” He sat down. “You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t worry about it. There was no need to take him to your mom’s.”
He paused. “I actually stayed at Noah’s last night. Apparently, your best friends have big mouths, so he offered me his spare room when I said I wasn’t staying here.”
I met his eyes and froze. “Wasn’t Leo there last night?”
“He doesn’t know,” Ethan said quickly, and I sagged in relief. “We talked when he was on the phone outside.”
“Thank God.”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence filled the apartment. We’d gone into uncharted territory with that direction in conversation, and now that I knew he’d spoken to Noah and Preston about the kiss, I was dying to know what he’d said.
Sucked to be me.
I grabbed a napkin from the stack on top of the pizza box and dabbed at my mouth. I didn’t know what to say next.
Was I an idiot to think our relationship could go back to before we kissed?
Ethan reached for the pizza box at the exact same time I did. Our fingers touched, and a shiver darted up my arm in response.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time.
“Here.” He pushed the box toward me. “You go.”
“Um. Thanks.” I opened the box, revealing the cheesy goodness of a pepperoni pizza. I peered over at Ethan. “You hate pepperoni.”