Page 83 of Talk to Me

With a raised eyebrow, I turned my head to stare down at her.

“What?” she asked. “You both can’t always come here for every holiday. That would be rude to his mom and dad.”

“Mom,” I said, throwing my socks in my bag and zipping it up, “it’s not like that. Theo and I are friends. He came here at Thanksgiving because his parents wouldn’t be home and he was going to be at school alone otherwise. That’s it.”

Mom gave me a disbelieving look.

“What?” I threw my hands up lazily. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

She shrugged one shoulder casually.

“Just the way he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention, I suppose,” Mom said. “And the glances you stole his way when you thought no one was paying attention. Maybe you’re friends now, but—”

“And we’ll be friends forever,” I cut her off with a nervous laugh. “Stop trying to make our relationship something it isn’t.”

I pushed my bag back and sat down on the bed next to her. Mom kept her head turned, staring at me until I was uncomfortable. I clasped my hands in my lap and looked down at them. In my heart of hearts, I wondered if Mom wasn’t right in some way.

“Do you remember when you had that little crush on that boy Christopher in ninth grade?” Mom leaned to bump her shoulder against mine playfully.

“Stop,” I said, pushing her away gently with a laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

“You were over the moon about that boy!” she cackled. “Loved him something fierce.”

“I was fourteen,” I said. “I had no idea what love was. It was…well, lust. I guess I’m old enough to say that to my mother now.”

She laughed.

“Well, you were still smitten, no matter what it was about,” Mom said. “Oh, my gosh. When he let you down—my heart just broke for you. God love him for being kind about it, but you sulked for months! I never thought you’d be the same.”

“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I did think I loved him. It hurt. You happy now?”

Mom studied me for a moment.

“No,” she said finally. “Because you haven’t tried to love anybody since then. And there’re lots of boys out there. Lots of ‘em cuter and funnier and nicer than Christopher. And they actually also like boys, unlike Christopher. But you’ve been ignoring all of ‘em. Why?”

“I’m not ignoring them,” I said defensively. “I’ve been busy with school and—”

“Josh,” Mom reached over and took my hand, “I’m proud of you and your good grades. But life is more than school. Everyone needs someone to love and love them back. And that’s coming from a teacher.”

“I don’t love—”

“You’ve been unlike yourself for two weeks,” Mom said gently. “I can see it in your eyes. You miss Theo. You’ve been checking your phone a million times a day, staring off at nothing when you think no one is paying attention, being quieter than usual—something’s weighing heavy on your heart. And I think it’s that boy.”

“Can we stop saying ‘boy’?” I asked quietly. “Can we say man? Or guy? I’m twenty-one and you’re making this sound creepy.”

She laughed loudly and slapped at my knee. “You’ll always be my boy, though!”

“Well, that’s fine, but, you know.”

“Fine.” She waved me off. “You miss Theo. So, I don’t know why you haven’t called or texted him this entire holiday. It’s like you’re forcing yourself to not admit you miss him.”

I shrugged. “He’s texted me a few times. I’ve texted back.”

“But you’re not making much effort,” Mom said. “You’re holding back.”

I sighed.

“What is it?” she asked.