They both stopped laughing, and that made me feel even worse.
Tears burned in the back of my eyes, cinching my throat. I glanced down the hall, toward the front door, and bit my bottom lip. “I think—” I stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “I think I’m going to go now.”
I started forward, but found my way immediately blocked by both Billy and Cletus.
“Now, wait. Wait a minute.” Cletus held me by my upper arms, keeping me in place. “Just hold your horses.”
“Jennifer, please accept my apology. That was ungentlemanly. We shouldn’t have laughed.” This came from Billy, who hovered at my side. He lifted his hand like he wanted to place it on my shoulder, but instead pulled his fingers through his dark hair. “I’m very sorry.”
I glanced up at him and shrugged, a rigid smile on my face. “It’s no big deal, I’m used to it.”
I was used to it—being laughed at, being the butt of jokes—I didn’t know why I was acting so silly. It was no big deal. No. Big. Deal.
My words appeared to frustrate Billy because he frowned, his icy blue eyes warming as they moved over me. “You’re a nice kid. And you shouldn’t be used to people laughing at you. That’s not right.”
Cletus was holding very still, and was being uncharacteristically quiet, but his eyes were wide and watchful as they bounced between us.
I spoke without thinking, wanting to diffuse his guilt. “Oh, it’s fine. I’d rather make people laugh than make them cry.” Billy winced and I realized too late what I’d said: I’d made them laugh, and they’d made me cry.
“Ugh!” My face fell into my hands and now I was laughing. “I always say the wrong thing.”
“Maybe you just need practice,” Cletus said very carefully, his tone communicating that his words held more than one meaning.
I peered through my fingers and found Cletus and Billy looking at each other, something meaningful passing between them.
Billy sighed. Then he nodded. Then he turned his attention to me.
Cletus let go of my arms and took a step back, stuffing his fingers in his pockets. Billy, meanwhile, inserted himself in the space Cletus had just vacated.
“Maybe you just need practice,” Billy repeated Cletus’s words softly, his smile small and coaxing.
I studied him with bemusement, my hands falling from my face. I couldn’t think of anything to say, mostly because I didn’t understand what was happening. My gaze drifted to Cletus. He was leaning one shoulder against the wall and his eyes were studiously downcast, as though the hallway carpet was incredibly fascinating.
“Jenn,” Billy said, drawing my attention back to him and his earnest expression.
“Yes?”
“How about if I help you? I can help you practice.”
My mouth fell open and I’m sure my face communicated my alarm. “Why would you do that?” I asked before I could catch myself.
His smile widened and he looked at me like I was adorable.
Adorable.
Not a hot mess.
And that made my tender heart feel both more and less tender.
“Because you’re a nice person,” he said simply, shrugging and making me smile; but then he added with a glimmer of mischief behind his eyes, “And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, I’ll get a banana cake out of it.”
***
After having my freak-show in the hallway, and reluctantly accepting Billy Winston’s offer of help, I assisted Billy and Cletus in the kitchen as they divided up the desserts. Under Cletus’s watchful eye, Billy and I traded cell phone numbers so we could make plans. Then the three of us carried slices of cake and pie out to their family.
Call it bravery or call it temporary insanity; whatever it was, I made a point to bring Ashley and Drew their pie and cake.
Drew accepted his warily—as he had every right to do—and Ashley accepted hers with a small, private smile. Then I sat myself down next to Ashley, looked at Drew straight on, and said, “Now, getting back to our discussion, there’s no need for you to procure a pressure cooker. You can borrow mine.”
Ashley’s smile grew. “Excellent idea. Don’t you think so, Drew?”
Drew’s silver eyes narrowed on me. I met his gaze, using mine to (hopefully) communicate repentance and make a plea to start over.
Still squinting, Drew finally said, “It’s not like we need a pressure cooker year round. If we used Jennifer’s then we could all do our canning together, make quicker work of it.”
Ashley turned her friendly smile back to me. “Fantastic. Let’s do that. When do you harvest your fall garden?”
The relief I felt was considerable, because I’d been avoiding Drew Runous for over a year. It would be nice, not having to run the other direction each time I caught sight of him.