The Hating Game

“He helped me out.” I hear how stiff my voice is and realize I’m beginning to prickle in defensiveness. What the hell is happening?

He held me while I threw up. And called his brother in the middle of the night. He washed my dishes. And I’m pretty sure he watched me sleep.

“Oh. Sorry, I thought we hated him. Are you going to work today?”

“Yeah, I’

ll go.”

“I’m downstairs in the lobby if you, um, want me to drive you.”

“Really? Isn’t today your first day of freedom?”

“Well, yeah. But Mitchell’s written me a letter of recommendation and I need to pick it up. It’s no trouble to give you a ride.”

“I’ll be down in five.” I check to make sure my gray wool dress is zipped up. Putting lipstick on my haggard face would look ridiculous.

“Hi,” Danny calls when I step out of the elevator. He’s holding a bunch of white daisies. My emotions balance on a tightrope between delighted and embarrassed.

It seems he’s on the tightrope right next to me. I’d have to be blind to not see the split-second pop of crestfallen surprise in his eyes. As sweaty and gross as I was on Friday, I still looked better than this.

He blinks away his reaction and offers me the flowers. “Are you sure you shouldn’t stay home?”

“I look worse than I feel. Should I . . .” I gesture at the elevator. I take another look at him. He’s wearing a Matchbox Twenty concert T-shirt, and the sunglasses on the top of his head have ugly white frames. We stand awkwardly and stare at each other.

“You could always put them on your desk at work.”

“Okay, I will.” It seems like a bad idea but I’m all flustered. If I take the flowers upstairs, I’ll have to invite him up. We walk out to the pavement and I breathe my first fresh air in days.

I need to snap out of it. Danny has been nothing but thoughtful this morning. I shade my eyes from the sun. Maybe I can try being thoughtful too. Maybe the convenience store sells olive branches?

“I need to grab something. I’ll be right back.”

As I pay for Joshua’s thank-you gift plus an overpriced red adhesive bow, I can see Danny leaning patiently against his car. I stuff the present into my bag and scurry back across the street.

He opens the door to his red SUV and helps me in. I watch him round the hood. In casual clothes, he looks younger. Slimmer. Paler. As he straps himself in and starts the car, I realize I haven’t properly thanked him for the red roses. I am a girl with no manners whatsoever.

“I loved the roses.” I look at the little bouquet on my lap.

“The daisies?” He pulls into traffic.

“Yes, these are daisies. A good choice for someone recovering from an epic vomit weekend.”

I wish I hadn’t said something so gross, but he laughs.

“So. Josh Templeman. What’s his deal?”

“The devil sent his only son to earth.” Weirdly, I feel guilty.

“He’s got a big-brother protective vibe going on.” Danny is fishing and I know it.

I am noncommittal. “He does?”

“Oh, yeah. But don’t worry. I’ll tell him my intentions are honorable.” He throws me a sideways grin but a sense of deep disappointment is starting to echo through me. The sparky little flirtatious feeling in my chest has died.

Am I like a little sister to Joshua? It’s not the first time a guy has said that to me. Ancient embarrassments echo through me. He’d kissed me in the elevator; that goes against this theory. But he’d never tried again, so maybe it’s true. I remember telling him how hot the elevator kiss was and wince.

“He didn’t tell me you’d tried to call. Thanks for checking on me.”