Page 34 of People Like Us

“Morgan.” August warned.

His mother looked at me expectantly. “I take it you don’t like that term?”

I lifted my shoulders, unbothered. “I don’t mind it. But I don’t think people mean it in a very polite manner.” She turned her attention back to her daughter, brows raised.

“Yes they do.” Morgan argued. “Barbies are always pretty, and they can do whatever they want.”

“That’s a very nice way of looking at it.” I smiled.

August’s knuckles brushed against the hem of my skirt under the table. I shoved a fork full of noodles in my mouth, a thick string of cheese catching on my lip.

“I’m going to get parmesan, do you guys want any?” Miss Brooks stood from the table, seeming to sense the tension.

When she stepped away, her back turned toward us in the kitchen, August’s fork was on my plate instantly, picking up as many noodles as would fit on the utensil. He shoved them in his mouth, and chewed quickly.

Morgan eyed him skeptically, so I smacked his shoulder playfully. “You have your own plate,” I laughed. He only winked at me. A small gesture that made a treacherous heat spread through me.

When his mother returned, she asked Morgan about her school day. I found August’s pinky on the edge of his seat, and wrapped mine around it, squeezing.

When everyone’s plates were cleared, his mother moved to the kitchen to pull cookies out of the oven. “Do you want to stay for dessert?” August asked casually.

“I shouldn’t.” I said, eyeing the dimming light outside the window.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” he said, lower.

I shook my head. “I have to get up early.”

He nodded. I thanked his mother for dinner, telling her how much I loved her pasta. She promised to give me the recipe. I said goodbye to her and Morgan, before August walked me to my car.

He opened the door for me, after I used the fob to unlock it. I leaned against the frame for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of him in the inky darkness of a late September evening.

“That girl, with all the belts, from yesterday?” I asked, suddenly remembering my conversation with Emily and Lindsey from that morning.

“Penelope?” he said, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Could you tell her not to go to the game tomorrow night?”

“She doesn’t go to the games,” he said, confusion lacing his tone.

“Are you sure?” I pressed.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m usually with her every Friday night.”

“Oh.” The sound came out too fast for me to hide the surprise in my tone. Images of them together, lying on his couch, flashed through my mind.

“We play DND in Wyatt ’s basement on Fridays,” he clarified.

“What is DND?” I asked.

“Dungeons And Dragons?” he said wearily, and in the soft moonlight I saw his cheeks change color.

I pushed off my car, and stepped closer to him. Using the tip of my finger to push a fallen curl out of his face I whispered, “You are so pretty when you blush.”

The color deepened and his eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the touch. The sight of it made my stomach flip.

“So pretty all the time,” I whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, looking down at me as he asked, barely audible, “Honest?”