Walk away from what? Whatever this thing is that’s going on between Grey and me? I could do that. It might be easier. Then again, I’ve never walked away from any of my friends, no matter what was going on in their lives, and I care about Grey enough that I’m not about to walk away from him, either.
“I don’t want to walk away at all,” I say, giving our hands a swing.
Relief washes over him. “Good. I’m really fucking glad to hear you say that because I don’t want you to walk away from it, either, even if that makes me a selfish asshole.”
“You’re not a selfish asshole at all. You’re far from it.” My gaze flits to the door as someone honks a horn. “I better go. That’s probably my grandma. But I’ll see you at the party.”
He nods, and with great hesitancy, I slip my fingers from his and turn for the front door.
“This thing with your aunt,” Grey says as we step outside into the fading sunlight. “I think, if it is her, it might be good for you to meet up with her. It might good for you to see how she’s doing, and maybe it’ll help you realize that you’re not as bad of a person as your parents try to make you think you are. But promise me that you’ll make sure it is her before you say too much through the emails and agree to meet her.”
“I promise I will. I was planning on it, anyway.” If only I knew more about her . . .
“Good.” The tension in his body alleviates, and his gaze fleetingly drops to my lips. “See you tonight at the party?” he asks, and I nod.
Looking super happy, he turns and heads for the corner of the street.
“Grey,” I call out. “Good luck with your game.”
He smiles from over his shoulder. “Thanks. I have a feeling that’s going to bring me good luck.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest as I float toward the car in a haze, wondering what’s going to happen at the party tonight. I don’t want to set my expectations too high, but at the same time, I feel giddy. I realize as I slide into the passenger seat that I don’t think I’ve ever been giddy over a guy before. My mom was wrong. Dating can be fun, if that’s even what Grey and I are doing.
“Who was that guy you were talking to?” my grandma asks as I slide into the seat and shut the door.
I draw the seatbelt over my shoulder. “Just some guy who goes to my school.”
“And a guy who has to go to this place.” She glares at the single story brick building where the sessions take place like it’s somehow offended her.
“He’s not a bad guy.” No, Grey’s not a bad guy at all, something I’m learning more and more with each day. He’s sweet and caring and has soft lips exactly like I thought he would.
I never thought in a million years that Grey would ever kiss me—be my first kiss outside of my circle of friends. Then again, never in a million years did I think Grey would be the first one to find out about my kleptomania. Life is kind of crazy that way, so full of twists and turns and unexpectedness, like my aunt contacting me from out of nowhere. I just really hope it turns out to be her.
My grandma adjusts her thick glasses higher on her nose then shoves the shifter into drive. “Why do you look flushed?”
“It’s hot in here,” I lie, cranking up the air conditioning.
“It’s not hot.” She violently twists the knob, flipping the air right back off. “And those pants you’re wearing are too tight.” That’s all she says to me before steering out onto the road.
She doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive and hardly speaks to me during dinnertime. Unlike my mom, my grandma is a woman of few words. She has the same views on clothes and how one should act isn’t as verbal about it. She likes to make statements and sort of leave them hanging in the air for people to figure out the underlying meaning themselves.
Like: “Your hair looks tangled,” which means, “Go comb your hair.” Or: “Your shoes look worn out.” Translation: “Buy some new shoes.” Or, my personal favorite: “You’re too tall.” Yeah, I’m not sure what the heck she really meant by that one. It’s not like I can just stop being tall.
It gives me a lot of time to think about how I’m going to handle this thing with Aunt Ashlynn, and I come up with a plan. I just cross my fingers it doesn’t backfire on me.
At around eight o’clock, my grandma pokes her head into my room. “I’m going to bed. Lights out.”
I scoot toward the edge of the bed. “Wait. Can I ask you something really quickly?”
She impatiently taps her finger against her watch. “If you must, but make it snappy.”
“I’m doing a project at school about my family, and I need some information about all of my family members. I was wondering if you could tell me Aunt Ashlynn’s birth date.”
Her skin turns pallid. “Can’t you just ask your mother?” she snaps.
“The project’s due on Monday,” I lie way too breezily. God, I’m becoming a real pro. “And I need to work on it all this weekend.”
“What a ridiculous project.” She huffs an exasperated breath. “It’s July twenty-fifth.” Then she flips off the lights, backs out of my room, and closes the door.
July twenty-fifth. Okay, that’s a start.
I sit on my bed in the dark for a half an hour to make sure she’s asleep before I sneak out my window, scale down the tree, and jog to the corner of the street where Wynter is waiting for me in her car.
“Holy shit!” she exclaims when I yank open the door and dive inside. “What the hell, Lu? I didn’t even see you coming?”
“That’s because I have ninja skills,” I tease, hunkering down in the seat. “Hurry and drive away so I can stop worrying that my grandma’s going to stop me.”
“She’s, like, eighty years old. She probably can’t even see in the dark.” Still, she presses on the gas and peels away from the curb.
I only straighten in the seat when we’re miles away from my home. Then I kick off my sneakers, crank up some music, and prop my feet up onto the dash, tapping my toes to the rhythm. “How many people do you think are going to be at this party?” I ask as I roll down the window, and a cool breeze blows through.
“I don’t know.” She turns on her blinker as she taps the brakes at the intersection. “Probably a lot since they won the game.”
“They did? That’s good. I’m glad. I wish I could have been there to watch them win.” I tilt my head toward the window, unable to stop smiling.
“You do, huh?” Her tone implies an accusation. “That’s interesting since you’ve never really cared about sports before.”
“I have, too,” I respond. “I’ve even gone and watched Beck play a few times.”
“And you were bored the entire time.” She cranes the wheel into a turn down the side road that leads to her and Beck’s neighborhood.
“Stop implying stuff.”
“Just say it, then, and I’ll let it drop.”
“Say what?”
“Luna,” she warns.
“Oh, fine. I wish I could’ve been at the game so I could see Grey play, okay?” My feet fall to the floor as I sit up and put my shoes back on. “There. Are you happy?”
“Very.” She grins at me as she parks the car in her driveway in front of the garage. “But I don’t get why you’re making a big deal out of this. So, you like Grey. Who cares? Just own it. You’ve liked guys before and never cared when I teased you about it.”
I know, but still . . .”Sometimes I feel like I’m being ridiculous going after a guy who shot me down once, as though I’m being naïve about the situation and getting too caught up in it before I even really get to know him.”
“I don’t think you’re being naïve.” She silences the engine, turns off the headlights, and extends her hand for the door handle to get out. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve done anything other than talked to him and helped him with his grades.”
I bite down on my lip. “That’s not entirely accurate.”
“What?” She gapes at me through the darkness. “Oh, my God, you kissed him, didn’t you?”
“No,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “He kissed me.”