Page 22 of The Breakaway

I planted a hand on my hip. “Caleb, if you need a fake date for?—”

“No, no, nothing like that.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I told you about this, don’t you remember?”

I frowned, scanning through my memory for recent conversations. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He sighed dramatically. "I got my new Nintendo set up! Convinced the 'rents to give me my Christmas present early. Super Nintendo with Super Bomberman 2. Up to five players at once!" His eyes gleamed with excitement. "Lily's in.”

I laughed out loud. “Okay, I do remember you telling me about this, but you didn’t say you were getting it early.”

He waved off my comment. “Neither here nor there. The important question is: Are you free tonight?”

I hesitated. Normally, I'd politely decline Caleb's game invites. This wasn’t the first time he’d invited me over, but I had zero experience. However . . . the thought of a solitary evening in the house with Rob made my stomach twist.

Crystal and Maddie were both busy tonight, so there wasn’t a chance I was giving up better plans. Not that Caleb was a fall back, just the video games portion of the evening.

"You know what? I'm in." I adjusted my violin case on my shoulder. "Let me just drop this off and change. Meet you at the bookstore in thirty?"

Caleb pumped his fist. "Yes! Awesome. Lily's gonna flip her shit. See you soon!" He took off down the walkway, practically skipping. How could I say no to that?

I walked home with an extra bounce in my step, helped along byDon’t Turn Aroundby Ace of Bass through my headphones. I burst into the house in a flurry, cold air nipping at my heels. I tossed my keys on the entry table and was already unzipping my coat when I saw him.

Rob sat hunched over the kitchen island, notebooks and binders spread before him like an academic buffet. He watched me, his dark brows raised. His hair was mussed. He was not wearing a shirt. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey," I mumbled, lingering awkwardly in the doorway.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re apologizing now?” I dropped my coat next to my shoes. I was going to put it back on in point five seconds.

“Don’t get used to it.”

The corner of my mouth quirked without my permission. I kept my eyes on the couch, the TV stand, anything but the tattoo on his left shoulder or the muscles in his back. “Aren’t you cold?”The fact that he and Logan walked around half-undressed was a mystery to me. I needed a sweatshirt and socks, even with the thermostat cranked to twenty-four degrees.

Rob cleared his throat, scooping up his study materials. "I don’t get cold."

Figured. “You don’t need to move. I'm heading out again in a sec anyway."

"Oh yeah?" His gaze followed me to the bedroom. I ducked in and dropped my bag and violin case. I thought about changing but settled on brushing my teeth and grabbing a toque. I grabbed my water bottle, too, and rushed back out into the kitchen. I’d told Caleb thirty minutes, and I was already going to be late.

"Where to?" Rob’s brow was pinched as he stared at his textbook.

None of your business, I wanted to snap. But I bit my tongue, reaching for the shredded cabbage and leftover rotisserie chicken. "Out.” I dumped the ingredients on the counter. Tacos would have to do—quick and easy.

I assembled my makeshift dinner, my senses heightened. I could feel Rob’s judgment radiating across the kitchen. He’d made enough comments over the months about my lack of cooking. Probably another reason he thought Logan could do so much better.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to cook. My mom made us dinner every night growing up. It was just easier to have my weekly taco ingredients, a few quick breakfast items, and grab-and-go snacks. Especially since Logan was rarely home for dinner anyway.

Truthfully, having Logan gone was going to save me money. That was one micro silver lining. I wouldn’t be tempted to go out to eat all the time with him and his friends. He was alwayswilling to pay, but unless we were on an actual date, I felt guilty bumming off of him constantly.

It was good timing. I'd squirrelled away every penny from my summer job, allocating the bare minimum each month. November's portion sat in my account, and I needed as much as possible to be able to buy Christmas gifts for family and friends.

Scooping the cabbage and chicken onto corn tortillas, I ignored Rob's stare burning holes in my back. I took a bite of my taco, not bothering with a plate and keeping my back turned.

“I don't bite.” Rob spoke up behind me. "Unless you're into that sort of thing."

I nearly choked on a piece of chicken. Coughing, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Rob had cleared the counter space in front of the second stool. Okaaaaay.

When I could breathe normally, I took my plate and cup over and sat down, scooting it as far from him as possible without being obvious. As I settled onto the seat, his scent—the clean body wash or deodorant he used—tinged the air.

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