“That guitar belonged to my mom.”
My eyes jerk up at the sound of his voice. It’s soft, quiet, and there’s a distinct lack of anger. I want to ask what happened to her but I know better. I may be socially awkward but I know now is not the time to ask. Maybe never.
The phone next to the computer rings and I blink, taking my focus off the boy still standing near the door.
“Hello,” I say into the receiver.
“Is this Starlee?”
I frown. “Yes.”
“It’s Jordan—I just checked in.”
“Oh right. What can I do for you?”
“Looks like we need a few more towels. Can I come by and get them?”
“Uh, no. I can bring them by. How many?”
“I think two should work.”
“Great. I’ll come up now.”
“Thanks, Starlee. You’re the best.”
I hang up the phone and say, “Well, I have a towel delivery to do.”
“That the guy that was just in here?”
“Yeah.” I walk to the linen closet, grabbing three white towels. “Why?”
“No reason.” He shrugs, but he chews on his lip ring. I’m realizing it’s a tell for something bothering him. “Want me to go up there with you?”
“Why? You think I can’t deliver towels on my own?” I’m not sure why I say it. Probably still sore from my grandmother worrying about me. But here I am with one of the boys offering to help anyway.
“Of course, you can take the towels up there. I was just offering. I know you’re…”
“I’m what?” I ask sharply.
“I know you’re not used to being around people.”
My eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”
“Because of the homeschooling and the way you never do anything. The fact you’re in this tiny town and jump like a scared mouse anytime anyone moves. The fact you froze that day in the street, making me—”
“Making you what?”
“Nothing.”
“So you are mad.”
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re mad because I made you break your probation. You could go back to juvie because of me. Because of meek, scared like a mouse, Starlee Jones.” I walk around the counter, towels bundled in my arms. “This is why I said thank you. It’s why I wanted you to know that I appreciated what you did. That I understand your anger, because you took that risk for me and now you realize it wasn’t worth it. I’m not worth the trouble. That it’s my own fault for being out there that day—too scared of my own shadow. Too dumb to realize the danger. Too stupid to follow the rules.”
I push past him toward the door and he grabs my arm. “Woah, woah, woah. What the hell are you talking about?”
I glare at his hand, where the heat burns between us. “Get your hand off of me.”