The Distance Between Us

hold up my drink. “Thanks for breakfast.”
    “No problem.”
    I shut the door and lean against it. Why?
    It takes me several minutes to push myself away from the door and head upstairs. My mom’s in the bathroom so I drag a chair to the old computer and start entering orders online.
    “Did I hear the phone ring?” my mom asks when she comes into the dining area rubbing her wet hair with a towel.
    “Yeah. I answered it.”
    “Who was it?”
    “Just someone asking what time we opened.” And that is the first time in my life I have lied to my mother. We tell each other everything. It surprises me. I should’ve said, “This kid named Xander—yes, he goes by Xander on purpose—who has his T-shirts ironed and wears jewelry.” That would’ve been fun. My mom would’ve tried to pretend she was offended. We could’ve talked about how he probably gets his hair cut twice a month. She would’ve given a polite “it’s best if we don’t hang out with people like that” speech. I would’ve agreed. I do agree.
    So what stopped me?
    “Can you finish up this order, Mom? My hair is going to dry all funky if I don’t get ahold of a blow-dryer.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Thanks.”
    I close myself in the bathroom and press my palms to my eyes. What stopped me?
    Loyalty.
    I didn’t want my mom to have bad feelings toward him. Somehow the guy had managed to climb out of the box full of people I had already labeled off-limits with a permanent marker and he’d become different. And now, much to my irritation, I feel some form of loyalty to Xander Spence.
    I had to change this immediately.

Chapter 10

    M onday morning I wave good-bye to my mom and open the front door to the shop. As I walk toward school, I notice a sports car that looks just like Xander’s parked a few doors down. I bend over to look inside, and when I straighten up again Xander is on my opposite side. I jump. He hands me a cup of hot chocolate and takes a sip from his cup.
    I look at the cup—the same as yesterday’s. “I only want this if you drank out of it first,” I say, refusing to say, “What are you doing here?” That might give away that I care.
    He grabs the cup from me, takes a drink then hands it back.
    It surprises me so much that he acted on my sarcasm that I can’t help but laugh. “I believe there’s a meeting Thursday nights at Luigi’s for those addicted to Eddie’s muffins. If that doesn’t work, I hear there’s a pill you can take.”
    “I’m afraid my addiction is not one I’m willing to give up yet,” he says.
    I give him a sideways glance. We were still talking about muffins, right? “I’m sorry.”
    “So whose turn is it for a question?” he asks.
    “Mine,” I say, even though I really don’t remember. But I’d rather ask than answer.
    “Okay, what’s it gonna be?”
    “Do you have any brothers?” I know he doesn’t have any sisters because his grandma said she has only one granddaughter and he already told me that is his cousin.
    “Yes, I have two older brothers. Samuel is twenty-three, just graduated from law school.”
    “Which law school?”
    “Harvard.”
    Of course.
    “My other brother, Lucas, is twenty and away at college.”
    “Those are pretty normal names.”
    “Normal?”
    “No Chets or Wellingtons or anything.”
    He raises one eyebrow. “Do you know any Wellingtons?”
    “Of course not, but you probably do.”
    “No, actually I don’t.”
    “Hmm,” I say.
    “Okay, my turn.”
    I smile but am nervous at the same time. I really wish I got to control all the questions asked. Then I could steer clear of the ones I don’t want to answer.
    “Are you wearing contacts?”
    “What? That’s your question?”
    “Yes.”
    “No, I’m not. Why?”
    “I’ve just never seen eyes as green as yours. I thought maybe they were colored contacts.”
    I turn my head so he doesn’t see my smile and secretly curse him for making me feel special. “Are you?”
    “Of course I’m not wearing contacts. You think I would purposefully make my eyes boring brown?”
    “Those gold flecks make them look more amber.” I want to kick myself for admitting I’ve noticed, especially when his smile widens.
    “Well, this is me.” I point to the old high school on my right. It was built seventy-five years ago, and although its architecture is pretty and not seen much anymore, it could definitely use some upgrades.
    He takes in my school. I shift uncomfortably, wondering what he thinks of