Page 40 of The Difference Between

“Fine.” I fold my arms over my chest. “After being told I work too much, I might have said—” The doorbell rings, stopping me midsentence and turning my voice to a shout. “There’s a damn sign!”

I march to the door and swing it open.

And find Gavin.

Standing on the porch in the only clothes he seems to own, blades of grass confettied on his pant legs and boots. But also, his smile is there, as are his eyes. Bright and bottomless.

My response starts as an annoyed list of grievances in my chest, but by the time it crosses my tongue and escapes my lips, it’s a single: “You.”

He grins. “Me.” He raises a foil-covered casserole dish. “Brought you and your mom something.”

“You should have stopped by the elementary school for a reading lesson,” I say, pointing at the obvious paper taped over the doorbell. “You might have noticed this.”

“I was too busy admiring the perfectly cut grass to read it.” He looks over his shoulder at the lawn then back at me, his face scrunched so one eye is nearly closed. “Your mower must have really come to life.”

“Didn’t it though?”

His lips twitch. “I was rooting for you.”

“Bad.” I fight a smile. “And doesn’t change the fact you keep not knowing how to read my signs.”

Remy, Rue, and Mom fill the entryway behind me.

He gives them an acknowledging smile but says to me, “Reading’s always been tricky for me.”

“Clearly.” There’s stifled laughter from the peanut gallery behind me. I look at the covered dish. “What do you have?”

“After weeks of staring at you, figured I needed an excuse to ask you out again. Brought lasagna.”

That jolt of awareness is back, accompanied by my mom sucking in a delighted breath and heat sweeping my cheeks.

I’m going to kill him.

“I’m not going out with you.” To my sisters and Mom: “I’m not going out with him.”

My sisters have smiles so big that I slam the door in Gavin’s face.

“Reese Conway,” Mom gasps. “What is wrong with you? That’s Gavin.”

“I don’t care if it’s Gavin. And why do you keep saying his name like that?” I don’t give her time to answer. “I’m not going out with him.”

Like the traitor she is, she reopens the door; Gavin is standing in the same spot on the porch, lasagna in hand, smiling wide.

Mom says, “As you can see, Gavin, some things never change. Ignore Reese and c’mon in.”

His smug gaze finds mine. “Why I’d love to, Iris.”

He sidles around me in the doorway to walk with Mom, Rue flanking his other side.

Next to me, Remy says, “You’re kind of scary, sis.”

“He makes me scary,” I whisper. “He keeps asking me out, and—” Gavin sets the lasagna on the counter and hugs Mom, angling his head to inspect her incision. She’s smiling. “Telling bad jokes. And mowing Mom’s yard when she’s trying to sleep and ringing doorbells where there’s clearly a sign saying do not ring.”

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

I wordlessly tell her how not kidding I am. “Does this look like my kidding face?”

She snorts. “All your faces kind of look the same.” In a more excited whisper: “But he’s been asking you out?” She looks from me to him, wide-eyed. “What did you say? You and Gavin?” She squeals. “What a full-circle romance that would be!”