Crashed (Mason Brothers 2)

His face held no flicker of expression. “So you need someone to take care of it while you’re out? That’s fine. Tell them to come here when they arrive. I’ll handle it.”

I searched his face, trying to read what he was thinking. “That’s really nice of you.”

He shrugged.

The air was thick as molasses, and after a moment of silence Rita said, “You know, I don’t really follow what’s going on.”

Andrew’s gaze flicked past me to his mother. “It’s okay, Mom. Tessa and I are friends.”

That word, friends. The flat way he said it. The look in his eyes.

No. Fuck no. Fuck, fuck, fuck no.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and turned toward Rita, addressing her myself. “The fact is, I was a complete asshole to Andrew yesterday, and I came over here to apologize.”

Rita’s lovely face went a little bit hard, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Something flickered behind her eyes that was deep and complicated, love and fear at once, and I wondered what she was thinking about. “I beg your pardon,” she said in a voice that could probably terrify an army of wait staff. “Andrew doesn’t need to be mistreated by anyone. Perhaps you should leave.”

“Jesus, Mom.” Andrew closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips tiredly to his forehead. “I’m not a toddler.”

“Andrew, you know you—”

“Stop.” He said it so sharply, with so much command, that I wondered what she’d been about to say. There was something beneath the words that I didn’t understand. He opened his eyes and looked at Rita. “Mom, you can go now. I can talk to Tessa alone.”

Behind my shoulder, I felt her hesitate. “I don’t like this,” she said. “I don’t like that this strange woman admits that she’s…that she’s…”

“An asshole,” I finished for her. “I think the T-shirt gives it away.”

“Can’t you go be an asshole to somebody else?” Rita said, obviously forcing the curse word out.

“Mom,” Andrew said. “I can handle it. You can go.”

She paused again, looking at him. Then she turned and left.

I didn’t blame her for her attitude. I liked her for it, actually. At least someone, somewhere, was looking out for Andrew. Trying to protect him from people like me.

When the door closed behind her, I turned back to him. “We need to talk,” I said.

“I’m not doing this.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“This.” His eyes blazed now, and he motioned to the air between him and me. “Whatever this is. This thing. It’s why I don’t let anyone into my house, Tessa. Because I don’t do this.”

“Do what?” I shot back. “Emotions? Friendship? Giving a shit about someone?”

“All of it.”

“Well, it’s too late. You’re already doing it. I’m already here. And I was a jerk last night, and I’m fucking sorry.”

“For what?” He was getting angry now, letting it show now that Rita was gone. “For getting asked out? For going on a date? For being a normal person who would like to meet someone and get laid? You’re single, Tessa, and you’re a fucking hot bra model. Go do what you need to do. It’s none of my business.”

“That isn’t what I’m apologizing for,” I said. “I’m apologizing for texting you about it like you’re in the friend zone, when you’re not.”

That stopped him for a second, and then he was angry again. “Tessa, get real. I’m in the permanent friend zone. We both know it.”

“Why?” I said. I pointed to his chair. “Because of that?”

“Not because of the fucking chair,” Andrew said. “Because of the man who’s in it.”