Page 32 of Between Love and War
I swat his arm. His impossibly rock-hard arm. What in the world? “That is not clearing things up!”
Before I launch into another spiral session, Michael leans back and gives me a look. “Kate. Is it really so bad? I mean, even if people figured out who you were—which they haven’t, for the record—would it be the end of the world?”
I pause and think. I mean… no. Of course not. The world wouldn’t spontaneously combust if people thought I was dating Michael.
But still. I just—I don’t know. Having a boyfriend is still a very serious thing for me. There’s something about theideaof being paired off—accidentally, theoretically, virally—with someone likehim.
He’s very… put-together, you know? Tall, confident, doesn’t have any vices, works out regularly, and drinks water on purpose. I’m the kind of person who still panics when I see a bank document addressed to me. So having people, even just internet strangers, mistake me for someone who has her act together enough to date someone like that? It feels… wrong.
And the worst part?
A tiny gremlin part of me is kind of flattered. Which is deeply unsettling and must be ignored immediately. And, I admit, is probably the only reason I want this to be dealt with.
“I guess not.” I admit, pushing my glasses up.
“There we go,” he says like we’ve just had a breakthrough in therapy. “So how about we just… do nothing?”
“Nothing?”
“Yep. Just sit tight. Let the town aunties have their theories. Let the internet run through its chaos cycle. This’ll all be forgotten by next week when another celebrity gossip comes to light.”
I purse my lips. “You’re probably right.”
He stretches his arms behind his head, looking completely unbothered. “But, hey, if you really want me to clear the air, I’ll do it. I’ll post something like, ‘Not dating my curly-haired neighbor who trespasses into my backyard.’”
I snort. And he genuinely chuckles as he says, “I’d do that for your peace of mind, Miss Noodles.”
I smile again. I hate how effective his calmness is. Funny how I can hate him and like him at the same time. “Thanks, but no. You’re right. It’ll die down.”
I stand, ready to leave. Michael stands too, and says, “If you ever feel like you need a break from anyone, my backyard is open. Trespass all you want.”
I look at him, eyes wide and mouth open. “You’re giving me back my safe space?”
“I’m sharing it with you. Don’t get too cocky.” He chuckles as we step down his patio.
When we reach the gate that connects to my house, I say, “Thanks for being nice. I expected you to ignore my crisis.”
Michael wipes his forehead with a towel, and says, “No one deserves to be on the bad side of the news. Not that you are, it’s just… I know what you feel, being sidetracked like that.”
For a second I wonder if my initial judgment of him is wrong. Maybe his whole referee pushisjustifiable. Maybe thereismore to the story.
But it’s not my story to tell. Or hear. So instead of thinking about it, I say, “Thank you. Really. Truly.”
Michael nods. “You’re not so bad when you’re being nice, Katie.”
As I step out of his backyard, I reply, “So are you… Mikey.”
I hear him chuckle behind me, and say, “Okay, no. That’s not gonna happen.”
I don’t look back, but I raise a peace sign as I go.
It’s not a truce.
But it’s close enough.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Michael
