Page 21 of Fake It Till You Break It
“Our date? I texted you about it.…”
“Oh. My phone was dead when I got home so I plugged it in. I guess I forgot to check it.”
I nodded. “Guess so. So now what?”
Her head leaned against the doorframe. “My mom’s not even home, though, so seems like a waste of time.”
“Well, I already toldmymom that I was coming over, so…”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Mia finally straightened up. “Fine, you can stay here for a bit as long as you don’t bother me.”
“Gee, I’ll try my best.” I followed her into the house to the kitchen, but not before taking off my shoes.
After I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, I started to ask Mia where her mom was but something stopped me. Leaning forward until my face was a few inches from Mia’s face, I wiped at her neck with my index finger. “Why’s your neck wet?”
She blinked wide eyes at me for a few seconds before letting out a slow deep breath. “I just got out of the shower when you came over.”
“Then why isn’t your hair wet?”
Her hand flew to the top of her head. “I don’t wash my hair every day. I usually just put dry shampoo on.”
“What is—?” Making a face, I backed up a few steps. “Never mind. Don’t need to know. I’ll just keep my distance from now on.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Is this you not bothering me? Because you’re not doing a very good job.”
“That was before I knew about your weird hygiene habits.” I downed the rest of the water bottle and moved to throw it away by the sink when something outside caught my eye. “I’ve always wondered, why did your mom keep the tiny house that Frank was working on?”
She peered out the window with me. Both hands braced against the edge of the sink as she leaned forward. “I think Mom didn’t have the heart to tear it down after they broke up. He was a good guy.”
“I liked him.” Truth was, I barely remembered the guy. I just remembered him hanging around when we were seven. Probably couldn’t pick him out of a lineup now, but I remembered that he always brought us ice cream. “Do you mind if we check it out?”
Mia shrugged. “Why not? I haven’t been in there in ages.”
Once we were in the yard, she fell into step beside me. Our strides matched even though my legs were way longer. But her pace was always a little faster than everyone else. Like she didn’t have any time to waste getting to the next place.
I hopped on the skinny wooden makeshift porch and pulled the door open to peek inside. I knew it was a tiny house, but this was a lot smaller than I remembered. Like this was literallytiny. It was basically the size of my room at home.
Mia followed me inside and stopped by the little area beside the door that was marked off with bright blue tape. “Remember this was where he planned to have a couch that would convert into a twin bed? For guests. Although I have no idea why you would invite guests over in such a tiny place.”
I hopped onto the metallic counter and leaned against the wall. With my right leg bent, I rested my arm on my knee. “Does your mom miss him?”
She traced the windowsill with her fingertips. “I think she does. She never said it out loud, but sometimes I’d catch her watching HGTV with a distracted look on her face like she’s thinking about him. Well, except for when she’s drooling over those guys onProperty Brothers.”
“My mom does that, too. The drooling part, not missing Frank.” I glanced around the kitchen. “I really don’t remember this house being thissmall. Not for you, though, since you were a shrimp. Still are actually.”
Her upper lip twitched. “Well, it’s not like you’re some sort of giant. You’re not that tall, either.”
“Still a lot taller than you,” I retorted.
“That’s not anything to brag about.” Placing both of her hands on the countertop, she hopped up to sit, too. Or at least she tried to. It was a little high so she bounced up and down a few times like a crazed bunny until I reached out to help. One of my hands clasped around her arm while the other wrapped around her waist as I lifted her up. “Thanks.”
We both sat there swinging our legs in silence. It was… kind of nice. I don’t know if it was the sentimental memories in this house or because she was less annoying today, but I didn’t really mind having to hang out with her. My hand traced a couple of purple smear marks on the cabinet door beside my head. “Remember how we used to pick raspberries from my mom’s garden and ‘make’ our own jam?”
She rolled her eyes. “I remember that. Mom and Frank were so pissed when they couldn’t scrub those marks off.”
They were. My butt was sore just remembering that time. I shifted back and forth before realizing that Mia was doing the same thing. Our eyes met, and we both started laughing. I didn’t really know why. I mean, it wasn’tthatfunny, but it just felt like a time to laugh.
The counter we were sitting on was kind of small so we were kind of smushed together. Just then I noticed that my hand was still around her waist. Well, notexactlyaround her waist. My arm was behind her back, but I could still feel her waist pressed against my hand. My hand against her hip. Almost on her butt.
