Page 39 of John Wilder Gets Schooled
The fact he assumed I was only there because something was wrong cemented my decision to have the guys over. I obviously needed to up my good neighbor game.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “I just wondered if you all wanted to come over for a spaghetti dinner tonight.”
Wilder’s face creased into a grin. “Really? Gracie loves spaghetti.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said. “It’s my mom’s go-to recipe when we’reall home, so I thought I could make it and invite you guys over to share.”
“That sounds great,” Wilder said.
“What sounds great?” Chase peered over Wilder’s shoulder. “Hey, Avery.”
“Avery’s making spaghetti for us all tonight,” Wilder said.
“Awesome!” Chase said, and there wasn’t even a trace of sarcasm there. He disappeared, leaving Wilder and me alone.
“So I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Looking forward to it,” Wilder said, and his smile became softer.
I spent the afternoon in a frenzy of cooking and cleaning and figuring out if I had enough bowls for seven people and if it mattered that none of them matched, and the whole time a spark of excitement danced in my belly at the thought of spending time with Wilder and getting to talk to him properly, instead of just exchanging ten words outside the classroom.
It was pretty crowded in my dining room by the time we squeezed six adults and Gracie around the table, and Cash ended up taking his bowl of spaghetti and standing in the corner with an arm curled around it protectively, but it felt familiar and comforting. It gave the same vibes as when my family all got together, with plenty of good-natured teasing over who was going to get the last slice of garlic bread—Cash, obviously.
Dinner was the most fun I’d had in a while. Wilder sat next to me wearing an easy smile, laughing at Danny’s dumb jokes and teasing Miller over wearing a white T-shirt to a spaghetti dinner, and if I happened to sneak glances at him when he threw his head back and laughed, so what? He was an attractive guy.
Once we’d finished eating, I gathered up the empty plates and carried them to the kitchen. Wilder appeared next to me moments later with his own handful of crockery and stacked them in a neat pile on the counter. “Thanks for dinner,” he said.
“It was no problem.” I tilted my head in the direction of thedining room, where I could hear Danny laughing and Gracie saying something. “I miss family dinners, so I borrowed yours.”
“Yeah, Danny’s basically my brother, and I guess the twins are too now.” His shoulder bumped mine, and he nodded at the sink. “Wash or wipe?”
“What? No, I’ll do them later.”
“Bullshit,” he said and shoved me over with his hip and started filling the sink. “And now you’re stuck drying.” He grinned like he’d done something clever.
A minute later Danny stuck his head through the kitchen door. “Hey, Gracie’s starting to get cranky. You want a hand here, or you want I should take her home and put her to bed?”
“Bed,” Wilder and I said in unison.
“I’m gonna stay and help clean up because someone has to show Avery that we were raised right,” Wilder said.
Danny snorted. “Too late, bro. He’s met us.” He ducked out of the kitchen and we heard him talking softly to Gracie. A moment later she rushed into the room to say goodnight. Then Miller and Chase and Cash came and thanked me for dinner—well, Cash gave me a thumbs-up—before they left.
Then it was just Wilder and me and a sink full of dishes. I kind of liked it. We didn’t talk much, just washed and wiped in companionable silence, but Wilder’s presence seemed to fill my kitchen, and I was super aware of the fact we were alone. I wondered if that was deliberate on his part. Our fingers brushed a couple of times when he handed me the plates, sending sparks up my spine, and I waited—hoped—for him to make some kind of move. But when the last plate was dried and put away, he didn’t try to kiss me or anything. He just wiped down the counter, dried his hands, and said, “Thanks again for tonight. It was real nice.”
“Any time,” I said.
And then he sauntered out the door and crossed the yard to his house, leaving me to watch him out of my kitchen window while wondering what it would take for him to kiss me again.
CHAPTER 11
WILDER
Avery Smith was the pebble in my shoe. Ever since he’d said that we could kiss again, and do more than that, I couldn’t get the guy out of my head. It didn’t help that I saw him twice a day when I was dropping Gracie off at kindergarten and picking her up again, or that he lived right next door and invited us to goddamn spaghetti dinners. I thought the boy next door was supposed to be sweet and wholesome—which Avery was, with his cooking and his craft projects and his Clark Kent glasses—but then he flipped the script with hisI’m offering to have no-strings sex with you anytime you want. And that was the part I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I’d also thought a lot about what Danny had said, about my upbringing, and my dad, and how it made sense that when I was teenager I hadn’t been ready to face the possibility I might not be straight. Hell, I was having trouble facing it now, but not because I was in denial anymore—I was attracted to Avery, no question—but because it hurt to think of the teenager I’d been and how that kid had buried some part of himself so deep inside that it had taken years to work its way out again.
I thought a lot about Gracie and about how there was nothing she could ever do that would make me close my door in her face.That wasn’t an ideology. It was instinct, and it came as natural to me as breathing.
