Page 41 of Stealing for Keeps
My brows tug together. “What do you mean?”
“We could hang together at my place tomorrow.” He shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I know we have it all basically outlined, but it might be nice to work on the pieces together.”
“I don’t get you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but it feels good, so I keep going. “One day, you’re flirting with me, inviting me out, and winning me a fish, and the next, you can barely look at me. Now you want me to come over to your house?”
“I’m sorry.” Both hands wrap around one strap of his backpack, and he steps forward. “It’s just…” He struggles to continue, finally saying, “Soccer is everything to me. My family gave up a lot to move here for me. I can’t risk it.”
“And I’m a risk?”
“Vaughn—”
The second his name is out in the air, I decide I don’t need to know.
I hold up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. I got it.”
“Claire…”
“It’s cool. Really. I understand.” The thing is I do. It’s exactly what Vaughn did, always choosing soccer and the team over me when he had to make a choice. I’m not even sure it was the wrong decision, but it still hurts.
“I’m really sorry. I’d like it if we could be friends?” He removes one hand from his backpack and holds it out to me with a sheepish smile on his face.
I fight the disappointment that settles like a pit in my stomach, then slip my hand into his, ignoring the zap of electricity that shoots up my arm as his fingers close over mine. “Friends.”
Chapter Thirteen
Austin
The second Claire walks into our chaotic house, I’m second-guessing myself. Her house was quiet and tidy, two things ours never is.
Mom is making dinner in the kitchen. The smell of garlic bread hangs in the air, and she has music playing loudly to drown out the noise of the TV in the living room.
When she sees Claire, she smiles and hurries over to her phone to turn it down. “Hi. You must be Claire.”
“Hi, Mrs. Keller.” Claire lifts a hand to wave.
Mom looks like she’s five seconds away from embarrassing me. She’s got that happy smile on her face, obviously pleased with Claire’s politeness. Her gaze darts between us like she wants to ask me if this is my new girlfriend.Groan.
“We’re going to work upstairs,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Will you join us?” Mom asks her.
“Oh, I…” Claire glances at me for help.
I shrug. Mom was always trying to feed my friends back in Arizona.
“Thanks. That’d be nice.”
“Come on.” I take off toward the staircase.
“Leave the door open!” Mom calls after me.
“Moooom,” I yell back. I shake my head when I get to the top of the stairs.
Claire’s easy smiles makes it a little less awkward.
“I’m in here.” I motion toward the first room on the left and then walk in and flip on the light.
When her gaze scans the small room, I rub at the back of my neck and feel a creep of embarrassment. Since we got here, I’ve done very little to make this place my own, aside from the furniture—a bed, a nightstand, a bookcase my dad built, and a desk. The only other signs of life are the laundry basket of clothes Mom has been nagging me to put away and my sketch pads scattered across my desk.
