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Her cheeks turn pink. “Thank you.”
“What song was that you just played? It’s beautiful. I didn’t recognize it.”
Her blush deepens. “It’s something I made up. It changes every time I play it.”
I’m in even more awe of her. I curse Spencer for finding Layla first and relegating me to friendship. I don’t want to say good night. Tomorrow is too long to wait to see her again.
“My mom, Brady, and I are having our sing along toThe Muppet Christmas Carolin my room tonight. Do you want to come?”
She chews on her lip as she thinks. I have to look away because my fingers itch to touch her cheeks. My thumb wants to run along her full, bottom lip. She drives me insane.
Finally, she says, “Um, okay.”
Chapter Twelve
LAYLA
Thirty minutes later,I knock on Owen’s bedroom door, excitement thrumming as I anticipate singing along to aMuppet Christmas Carolwith my friend and his family. People who actually want to sing and not my students.
Owen opens the door wearing a Harvard t-shirt and pajama pants with dancing candy canes.Candy canes! Dancing!They have eyes, a huge smile, legs, and two hands that hold a wooden cane. How did I not know such a thing existed? I’m finding them online tonight and buying them ASAP. Which means they’ll sit in a digital shopping cart until I get paid next month. It will be worth the wait.
It’s impossible not to compare Owen and Spencer, though I wish my brain would stop it. Spencer wouldn’t get caught dead wearing something so ridiculous. Owen is adorable in his dorkiness. With the way my heart knocks around in my chest, I should turn around and go back to myroom, but I’m incapable of moving. The view is too charming.
“Welcome,” Owen says.
He opens the door wider, and two things hit me at once. Marianne and Brady are wearing the same dancing candy cane pajama bottoms. This family’s adorableness is almost more than I can stand.
The second is the room is purple. Very purple. Everything has been purpled. From the walls, rug, bedspread, and pillow covers, to the dresser and upholstered couch. Even the lampshades on the bedside tables are purple.
“What?” is all I’m able to get out.
Owen understands what I’m not able to vocalize. He ducks his head and runs a hand through his thick hair.
“Yeah, I got to decorate the room my first summer here, and I went a little overboard. I blame it on my mom. She loves everything in white and grays. Color was a new experience for me.”
I meet Brady’s gaze, and we both laugh.
“I wanted to paint one wall in my bedroom blue,” Brady says. “She about died.”
Marianne shakes her head. “I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are,” Brady and Owen say at the same time, as if they scripted it.
“It was midnight blue! Who wants dark colors on their walls?” She gets no sympathy from her sons, and I’m trying not to laugh. She waves me over to the couch. “Don’t listen to them. They have no sense of interior design.” She points to the walls as proof.
There’s room enough for one more person on the couchnext to me, and I hate myself for hoping Owen takes the spot.
I’m dating someone else, brain, so shut up! Owen is my FRIEND.
“It wasn’t so bad last time I was here,” Owen says, waving around the room. “Just the walls, floor, couch, and dresser were purple.”
“Right. Not so bad,” Brady deadpans.
Owen shakes his head. “Miles brought in everything else as a joke.”
Brady shakes his head. “He brought it in because he knows about your secret purple obsession and wanted you to feel at home.”
Owen looks at me for support.
