Page 81 of Best Friends for Never

“Well, whoever. But I was just about to call them up.” Her eyes drift down my body. “Nice to see you made it back in one piece.”

I cross my arms over my chest, subtly trying to hide the fact that I’m not wearing a bra—well, bikini top. “We lost track of time.”

A sly grin tugs at her lips. “I’m sure you kids did. Did you have fun?”

“We did.” Noel coughs out a laugh, then bumps his shoulder against mine. “Peter, tell your mom how much fun we had.”

I scowl at him for putting me on the spot, then turn a tentative smile to my mother, who can always read me so easily. “So much fun.”

My mom chuckles. “Well, I just came over to talk to you about last night. I’ll get out of your hair so you two can—”

“No!” I blurt out, holding my hands up to stop her. “No,” I repeat, calmer this time. “Stay. I want to hear.”

Her eyes flit between Noel and me, but eventually, she nods. “All right. If you insist.”

“I do. I really do.” I look up at Noel. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I should probably get home to check on Gran, anyway. I’m sure she’s just bored to death without me around.”

I didn’t mean for him to leave, but now that he’s suggested it, I realize I don’t hate the idea.

Not because I don’t want him around—I do. But I need some time to process what has transpired today. We took a big step, and I haven’t entirely wrapped my head around its consequences yet.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He bends, pressing a kiss to my cheek. It’s not completely out of the norm, but it’s unusual enough for my mother’s eyes to widen in surprise at the gesture.

“I’ll text you later,” he tells me, then wraps his arms around my mom before taking off.

I watch him go the whole way, unable to wipe the smile off my face, even when he turns the corner and disappears.

“So ...,” my uninvited guest says, and I turn to her. “How was your dayreally, dear?”

I roll my eyes, walking past her and into my house. I should probably lock it, but nobody ever locks their doors around here. “Stop it. Get inside.”

“What? I’m just curious. Can’t a mother be curious about her daughter? Can’t she wonder why she’s walking home without a bra on?”

“Mom!” I hiss, pushing open the door and pointing inside. “Go.”

She cackles as she waltzes by me.

I let the door slam closed behind me and march straight to my bedroom while my mother stops to give Pumpkin chin scratches. I strip off my shirt, grab a bra from my top drawer, and put it on before pulling a fresh shirt off a hanger and meeting my mother in the kitchen.

She’s already at the coffee station working on making us a pot. She dumps the grounds into the filter, then closes the lid before reaching up and pulling two mugs from the cabinet above while I go to the fridge for my creamer.

I pour a bit into my mug, then plop down in a chair at the small, two-person walnut table I refurbished, while she stands with her back against the counter, watching me with a knowing grin.

“What?” I finally grit out after several minutes of her staring at me.

“Nothing.” She lifts a shoulder, but I know her. It’s not nothing. It’snevernothing with her.

She always knows when something is up, and while I love it most of the time, sometimes—like right now—it’s the last thing I want.

The coffeepot gurgles out the last of the fresh brew and Mom pours us each a cup before taking the spot opposite me.

“So, want to hear about last night?”

Oh, thank gosh. A subject change.

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