Seven #3
‘We’re good,’ Heath answers for me, patting the duffel bag where he stored the takeout we got on the way here, guiding me toward the front door with the other.
He pushes me across the threshold – my stiff hesitance earns me a quipped you need an invitation, Carmilla?
– and through the house. We leave Lyla and Saylor in a kitchen that looks like something straight out of a beachy boho-chic Pinterest board, and Heath warns them to leave us alone – I say nothing at all.
I am too busy acting like there’s nothing weird about being shepherded into Heath’s bedroom. I do not give into the baser instincts demanding a snooping session. After a quick, cursory glance around the surprisingly neat room, I oh-so-casually remark, ‘Lyla’s cute.’
‘She is.’
‘Saylor’s pretty young.’
‘A year younger than us.’
‘So she was . . . seventeen when she got pregnant?’
Heath clucks his tongue. ‘Sixteen.’
Jesus. When I was sixteen, I was . . . well, I wasn’t getting pregnant. Wasn’t even thinking about boys. Certainly wasn’t attracting any. Wasn’t trying to. I was swimming. Training.
Grieving.
Thankfully, a disgruntled noise cuts off that train of thought before it can really grow legs. ‘Got a problem with that?’
I start to frown, only to realize I’m already frowning, and quickly, I realize what Heath’s own dourness must be about. Even quicker, I clarify, ‘I’m not judging.’
‘Sounds like you are.’
‘I think that’s just my default tone.’
He laughs. A reluctant but real sound.
I sigh. A quiet, relieved exhale.
‘Sorry.’ I fiddle with the strap of my bag, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘I really wasn’t judging.’
I was just curious. Not trying to pry. Although, is it really prying if it’s something I should already know?
Something others would expect a girlfriend to know?
Not that I think someone is ever going to quiz me on Heath’s sister’s pregnancy timeline, but it could come up in conversation.
Based on Heath’s reaction to talking about it, it has before, and not in a great light.
If it did again . . . well, I’d like to be informed.
Educated. Capable of a suitably eloquent defense, one beyond shut the fuck up.
I could explain that to Heath, but I don’t.
I don’t want to press the conversation any further, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either, considering a nod is his only response.
A nod, and dropping to sit on the floor at the foot of his bed, rooting through his bag for his own lunch, patting the space beside him. ‘C’mon. Let’s eat.’
Topic dismissed, I guess.
As I do what he urges and take a seat beside him, legs folded beneath me and a takeout box of salad balanced on my thighs, I take a stab at a different topic.
I’m not sure why. I have a certain affinity for silence, but something about Heath’s is .
. . unsettling. ‘You have another sister, right?’ His niece mentioned another aunt. ‘June.’
Heath nods. ‘She went to college out-of-state. My parents moved with her.’
‘Let me guess. She’s the youngest?’
With a wry laugh, he nods again.
‘You guys are close?’
‘People used to think we were triplets.’
Which is a yes, I guess. Smiling faintly, my gaze drops to my salad. ‘That’s nice.’
‘You and your brother aren’t?’
My shoulders lift and fall vaguely. I don’t know how to explain that we’re not not close, but we’re not exactly friends either. We have our moments. Fleeting, infrequent moments that usually come about when Sebastian is bored.
Correction – I do know how to explain that. I just don’t particularly want to.
‘Anyway.’ One hand shovelling a forkful of kale into my mouth lest I accidentally put my foot in there again, the other reaches into my bag and plucks out my notebook.
Opening it to the page covered in my most recent scribbles, I slide it toward Heath, letting him mull over it for a minute while I chew.
After swiping my tongue over my teeth in a search for stray leafy greens, I cautiously ask, ‘This sound okay?’
‘Sounds thorough.’ He looks up from beneath his lashes, one brow high. ‘And specific. Do you, like, lurk in the back of my lecture hall or something?’
‘The curriculum is online.’ Thank God. Something tells me that the hardest part of our entire agreement isn’t going to be the whole dating aspect, but the studying.
Heath kind of strikes me as one of those guys who fails classes because they can’t be bothered to do the work, not because they actually can’t do it.
‘You know you have an essay due the first week of December, right?’
‘I do?’
God, I really can’t tell if he’s joking or not. ‘It’s worth more than half of your grade, Heath.’
He hisses a breath through his teeth. ‘Damn. Sounds important.’
‘Heath.’
‘I’m kidding.’ Playful fingers pinch my fucking cheek. ‘You’re adorable when you’re all serious.’
‘You’re infuriating when you’re not serious at all.’
‘So, all the time, then.’
My head drops back, a sigh wracking my entire body. ‘This is going to kill me, isn’t it?’
A sparkling gaze seeks mine. ‘Oh, but what a fun way to die.’