Page 8 of For the Fans
“Sup.” He grins at me, displaying some vast dimples.
My teeth grind together. “Hey.” I shake his hand, hard, squeezing it tight. You know, to let him know who’s boss around here.
My dad… But also, me.
A few heavy seconds go by where we’re both sizing each other up. Well,I’msizinghimup. He seems to be just observing me, in a way that feels appraising and makes my neck hot.
Shifting away from him, I’m attempting to be polite as I ask, “Would you like something to drink?”
I’m mostly talking to Hannah, but I can’t help how my eyes flit to Avi briefly, just to see what he’s doing. He’s not even looking at me anymore. Now, his gaze is darting all over the inside of our house.
Hm… Easily distracted and dopey. Like a puppy.
“Sure, thank you,” Hannah responds to my offer, but looks to my father. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
He takes her by the arm. “Come. I have a fantastic bottle of Bordeaux we can open.”
Ugh. Barf. I already hate this.
The two of them wander off, leaving Avi and me standing around like morons. Avi’s eyes linger on my father and his mother for a moment, that same protective glint in them, while mine slide over him once more, noting his clothes. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with rips on the knees, worn Converse sneakers, and a charcoal V-neck t-shirt that hugs his torso.
I puff my chest a bit.I could take him.
“There’s, like, soda and stuff in the kitchen if you want…” I mumble, genteel enough, though I really have no interest in engaging with this dude. I can already tell we have little to nothing in common just from looking at him, and now more than ever, I’m seeing this evening for what it is…
A big fat fucking waste of time.
“We don’t get any wine?” he asks, and when I grimace, he chuckles. “Just kidding. Wow, lighten up.” He slaps me hard on the back, then walks away, in the direction of the kitchen.
I feel my scowl becoming a permanent feature on my face.
My father and Hannah are giggling in the den. And if my teeth weren’t crumbling as it is from how tightly my jaw is clenched, when I get to the kitchen, I find Avi making himself at home. Opening our refrigerator, rifling around, pulling out a can of Coke. He cracks it open and takes a sip, making one of thoseahnoises afterward as he leans up against the counter.
It takes me a moment to notice that my fists are balled at my sides.
“So… what’s your deal?” he asks me, and my brows crush together in confusion and irritation.
“Deal?” I scoff. “I have no deal. What’syourdeal?”
He grins. It annoys the fucking shit out of me.
His eyes slide over me again, a slow traipse up and down. And as much as I have this frustrating urge to wrap my arms around myself, I stand up straight and let him do it, squinting at him all the while.
“You look pretty preppy,” he says casually. “Are you, like, a jock or something?”
Forcing myself to swallow down the rage that’s building inside me, faster than the usual rate, I grumble, “I play football, if that’s what you’re asking…”
He huffs. “Figures.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean—”
The question is barely finished barking out of my mouth when Theresa rounds the corner into the kitchen. “Alright, kiddo. As much as I love you bothering me while I’m trying to cook, I need you to move. You’re taking up too much space.” She pauses with a wooden spoon in her hand when she notices the stranger in the room. “Oh, hello. Who’s this now?”
Avi smiles at her, and I roll my eyes.Why does he smile so much? It makes him look deranged.
“This is Avi…” I mutter. “His mother is… dating Dad. Allegedly.”
Theresa’s eyes fling back and forth between the two of us, her brow raising for a split second before she offers a polite smile to Avi.
