Fracture Page 41

“Delaney, let him be,” Mom said.

I ran into the kitchen, grabbed one of the pies, wrapped it in foil because it burned my fingers, and barreled through the living room. “He shouldn’t suffer either,” I said. “Especially not today.” Mom stepped forward, but Dad put his hand on her shoulder and they let me go.

“Well?” I said after I let myself into his car. “What are you waiting for? The pie is getting cold.”

Troy opened his mouth and stared at me. Then he grinned and started the car.

We ate the pie standing up in his sorry excuse for a kitchen. Correction: I ate. He watched me. And then I got self-conscious and stopped eating. “You can have it tomorrow if you’re full now,” I said. “Just reheat at 350.”

“I know how to cook,” he said.

“Oh.” I found a dishrag hanging over the faucet in the sink and started scrubbing at imaginary spots on the laminate counters. I could feel him right behind me, so I started scrubbing harder. Then I wondered if Mom scrubbed and rescrubbed the counters because she wasn’t sure what to do next.

“I think they’re clean now,” he said, putting a hand over mine.

I pulled my hand back gently and found somewhere else to scrub. “Almost,” I said. I knew he was looking at me and I knew my face was all sorts of red and I knew he must’ve been able to hear the beating of my heart in the silent apartment. Because that’s where we were. Alone in his apartment.

“I don’t know whether you’re acting like this because you know I’m going to kiss you and you’re nervous or you know I’m going to kiss you and you don’t want me to.”

I laughed nervously at the counter. “You’re going to kiss me?”

“Obviously. You know I like you. You know I want you.”

I spun around but kept my back pressed against the counter. “You want me?” Troy was so to the point. Decker and I circled each other, never saying what we meant. Not that it mattered anymore.

“You act like it’s such an absurd idea.”

I shook my head and looked at the floor. “You only want me because we’re alike.” I pointed at my head, indicating what exactly was alike about us.

“Partly,” he said. He hadn’t come any closer, but he hadn’t backed away, either. “And partly because you’re beautiful. And partly because you brought me pie. And partly because you wanted to save that man in the fire. But mostly because you see the good in me.”

Everything stopped. The way my brain was supposed to work and reason things out, the way I had been fidgeting with the dishrag, the way I made decisions. I felt warm from my toes to my fingers, and he wasn’t even touching me.

“So, I don’t know which it is—that you want me to or you don’t want me to.” Troy was nothing like Decker. Decker always gave me time to think and respond. Troy kept talking and filling the silence so I couldn’t keep up or make a decision, and it was too late to say anything anyway because he was kissing me already.

His hands were on my hips, and his mouth was parted directly over mine. And it didn’t feel casual and safe like with Carson. It felt like anything could happen and everything was only just starting and I had no idea what would happen ten seconds from now. He moved his hands under my sweater, up my back, warm hands on my bare skin. I arched into him and he walked us out of the kitchen, never breaking apart.

Then my brain caught up and thought we could only be walking to one of two places. The couch or the bedroom. And I was scared because it turns out I wasn’t actually scared of the idea while his mouth was on mine and his hands were on my back.

So I pushed away, gasping for air. “It’s Christmas,” I said, hoping that answered everything. “I have to go home.”

Troy said, “All right,” but he didn’t move his hands from my back. He didn’t drop his arms until I stepped away.

I couldn’t look at him the whole way home. And when he dropped me off he said, “Bye, Delaney,” with this ridiculous smile, and I turned away so he wouldn’t see that I had the same ridiculous smile. Nothing could stop me from smiling. Not even the fact that the Martins were still here. Nothing, that is, until I saw Tara’s inappropriate-for-snow, little red sports car parked in Decker’s driveway.

Chapter 11

Mom had scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Monday morning without telling me. We didn’t get as far as the hospital. Instead, we ended at Dr. Logan’s private practice a few miles outside of town. When we pulled into the packed lot, I didn’t follow Mom out of the car.

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