They all bust up laughing, leaving me perplexed and flustered.
“She’s so adorable,” Max muses as he stabs his fork into a waffle.
Holden glances at Max with his brows knit while
Foster frowns at him. Max doesn’t appear to notice, though, too fixated with his breakfast.
As tension laces the air, Easton lets out a cough.
“Here’s a little tip, lightning eyes.” He grins at me as he gets up from the barstool and sets his empty plate in the sink. “Leaving food laying around in this house is as risky as dancing with a faerie. You’re lucky I haven’t eaten your food yet.”
I move my plate closer to me. “There’s no way you could’ve eaten all of these and the ones you’ve eaten already.”
His grin widens as he rounds the counter and reaches to steal my plate from me. “I could finish these off in like thirty seconds”
I swat his hand away, and his eyes flicker with surprised delight.
Suddenly, the faucet turns on, spewing water all over the sink.
Holden chokes on a bite of waffle while Max glances from the sink to Easton with a curious look on his face.
“I did that on purpose,” Easton stresses to no one in particular, his cheeks a bit flushed.
“Sure you did.” Max collects his plate in his hand while giving Easton a strange look, to which Easton responds with a glare.
Max reaches over the counter and slams the handle of the faucet down so water is no longer spewing out.
Their exchange is peculiar, but since Easton is blushing—yes, actually blushing—I think it might be better not to ask what’s going on.
“You guys should get going,” Max says. “You’re going to make Sky late for her first day of school, and I really doubt the secretary is going to accept the I-was-late-because-Easton-and-Foster-were-bitching-at-each-other excuse.” He smiles at me as he carries his plate to the sink. “I used that way too many times every time these guys made me late for school.”
Smiling, I stuff a forkful of waffles into my mouth while Foster grimaces, and Easton scoffs, his blush still evident.
“Whatever, man.” Easton snatches up a backpack that’s hanging on the back of a chair. “We learned our bitchiness from you, so …” He smirks at Max then pushes through the door, exiting the kitchen.
Foster rubs his hand across the top of his head then looks at me. “Max is right. We should get going.” He takes my plate with one hand then threads his fingers through mine with the other.
Max gives him an amused look and Foster sighs, steering me across the kitchen and out the door. As we enter the foyer, he hands me my plate then slips on his jacket and collects his car keys from the end table near the door.
“Isn’t your mom coming with us?” I ask. “To check me in or something?”
“She has a couple of things to do this morning for work, but she’ll meet us there.” He zips up his jacket then takes my hand again.
I should pull away. It’s weird holding hands with a guy I barely know. Yet, that’s the thing. I feel like I do know Foster, perhaps from all the times I spent observing him from afar. Not that my covert gawking ever really let me discover much about him, other than he went to the auto body shop all the time. And I’m still not even sure why he was ever there.
Maybe I should just ask him. He’s been so helpful with all the other questions I’ve had.
“Random question,” I say as Foster opens the front door. “Why were you always at that auto body shop in Honeyton?”
His hand stiffens in mine, and the sky, which was the bluest I’ve seen it in a long time, abruptly becomes a grey overcast.
“I went there to pick up parts for my car,” he mutters, then releases my hand and hurries down the stairs as if the house is suddenly on fire. Which, I guess, considering what we can both do …
I peek over my shoulder, grateful no flames are visible. However, that doesn’t explain why Foster abruptly started acting like … well, the Foster I first met.
Sighing, I trail after him down the path and to the garage where his car is parked and Easton is waiting in the back seat.
Foster ducks into the driver’s seat then shuts the door and starts up the engine.