Talk about commitment issues.
I blew out a long breath and leaned my head back against the wall. How could we normalize our relationship again? I’d meant what I’d said when I’d told him that there was no way we’d be the same—there was absolutely no chance I’d be able to sit on a sofa with him without wanting to curl myself into his side.
We had to communicate, though. We still lived together, and that meant we had to be civil to one another. We had to get along.
Rolling my head, I looked around his room. Despite the stuff he’d moved in, there was little to no personality in here. It reflected him perfectly—not because he had no personality, but because it made sense that he didn’t settle in anywhere.
My feelings didn’t matter, because he was never going to stay in Creek Falls. Not like my brother. Leo wasn’t leaving again, he’d said as much to Mom, but Ethan hadn’t.
He would leave, just like he always did.
If I didn’t get a handle on my feelings, I’d end up in a worse place than I was right now.
Another sigh escaped me. Damn it.
No. I needed to do something. As much as I didn’t want to live with him right now, I didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t move out overnight, and neither would I make him leave.
My gaze fell on his shoes.
One of my passive-aggressive moves was going to be to steal all the insoles of his shoes. Sure, he had one pair that he was wearing, but if it was half as irritating as it was when he stole my socks…
Which I still didn’t have back, for what it was worth.
I shuffled off the bed. Mr. Prickles tilted his little head to the side, almost as if he was asking me what I was doing. I pressed a finger to my lips—as if he could talk—and quickly and carefully poked through Ethan’s closet.
He had three pairs of shoes in here. A pair of sneakers, a second pair that were running shoes, and smart shoes.
I took the insoles from all of them.
I had to laugh at myself. This was a completely ridiculous way to make this work, but if it worked…
Well, then my life went back to normal.
Where I was in love with someone I could never be with, and the only happy ending I was getting was provided by seven inches of plastic and two double-A batteries.
At least it wouldn’t argue with me.
***
I tossed the sliced pepper into the pan with the chicken and the sliced onion. I had, once again, made enough food to feed a football team, but I figured I’d be a nice person and leave the fajita fixings covered in the fridge for Ethan whenever he decided to come back.
Food was the great equalizer, after all. Nothing said, ‘I’m sorry, let’s be friends’ like good food.
Food said a lot of things, actually, but it was my love language, that was for sure.
I added the spice mix and stirred, blending it all together, and let it cook on low heat. My eyes darted to the time on my lock screen. I was hyper-aware of it, and I knew Ethan would be coming back at some point this evening.
As it was, it was already six-thirty, and he should have finished work an hour and a half ago.
I was on borrowed time. I was avoiding him, and I was already taking a risk by being in the kitchen right now. He could walk in at any time.
A key turned in the lock.
Like now.
Right now.
Crap on a cracker.
Swallowing, I quickly let my hair down out of its loose bun. It was dark enough and thick enough that it would hide me from him if I wanted it to. It was totally a defense mechanism for me, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
“Hey.”
I stirred the fajita mix. “Hey.”
“I brought pizza.”
Turning, I looked at him for the first time since he’d left over twenty-four hours ago. His hair was in its usual messy style, the stubble that coated his jaw was a little longer than usual, and there was hesitance in his eyes. An unasked question.
There was also an oil smudge on his cheek.
“I’m making fajitas.” I shuffled side to side. “I was going to save some of the chicken for you. I made too much.”
“Oh. No worries. I just thought… never mind.” He smiled tightly and put the box down on the coffee table so he could shrug off his backpack.
“I guess you thought the same as me.”
“That I was hungry?”
“No. That food makes everything better.”
He tugged his lips to the side. “Something like that. If I knew you were cooking…”
“No, it’s fine. You can always reheat it for lunch.” I glanced down at the pizza box. God, it smelled good. “Or I can box it all up, and we can eat it tomorrow instead?”