It also occurs to me when I reach the front door that Dad has no idea where I went. I conveniently disappeared right before dinner at the exact time Tyler did, and surely it’s not that hard to connect the dots.
Barely breathing, I slowly push open the door and step inside the hall, softly closing it again behind me with an inaudible click. I can hear the TV in the living room, and so I dart past so silently that I can’t even hear my own feet as I tiptoe up the stairs. I’m not worried about the fact that I went out. I didn’t do anything wrong—besides touching the Hollywood Sign, which just so happens to be illegal—and Dad can’t stop me from going out, anyway. I just don’t have the energy to talk to him.
“Eden?” a whispered voice calls from the top of the stairs as I rush up them, and I pause to glance up. Tyler’s staring down at me, his eyes narrowed. “Where the hell did you go?”
“Where the hell did you go?” I shoot back. I stand up straight, climb the remaining few steps, and then stare back at him evenly once I’m level with him. “You just ditched the rest of us. Nice teamwork.”
He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in days, or perhaps he’s high. Either way, he groans. “I don’t work well with cops, alright? I can’t get caught again.”
“Again,” I repeat for the second time today. I’m still wondering what other criminal activity he gets up to besides throwing himself into restricted areas and snorting cocaine. “When did you get home?”
“Twenty minutes ago,” he says. “Mom finally stopped grilling me about the whole beach thing earlier.”
“Cool,” I say bluntly and make my way into my room. He follows me. “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he says, and I watch as he quickly averts his eyes. I figure this is the perfect opportunity to question him about his little escapade earlier, because it was totally uncalled for.
“What was your problem with Jake?” I fold my arms across my chest, furrowing my eyebrows as he immediately turns around and leaves. And just like he followed me, I do the same in return. I end up in his room for the first time, and I’m surprised he doesn’t automatically demand that I get out. “I asked you a question.”
“I’m not answering it,” he mutters. “Wait, I will.” He swivels around, his chest puffed out and his jaw clenched tight. “That guy is the second biggest asshole I’ve ever met. Don’t waste your time. He’ll screw you over.”
“Who’s the first?” I ask. “Yourself?”
He stares back at me for a long moment. “Close enough.”
“Okay, well, Jake’s actually really nice,” I say, taking a step back as I inconspicuously study the room. “Unlike some people around here. And you don’t really get a say in whether I want to hang out with him or not.”
“You’re kidding, right?” His eyes widen and he gives a short, harsh laugh. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Why do you even care?” I press, aggravated at the way he’s getting pissed off. Maybe if he was nicer to me I’d take into consideration the fact that he hates Jake. But he’s not nice, so I don’t have to.
“I don’t,” he snaps.
“You clearly do,” I retort, but it feels pointless to argue. He’s never going to admit the truth.
Wandering to the opposite side of the room, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and comes to a halt by a collection of haphazardly stacked DVDs. “What’s your, um, favorite movie?”
I’m blinking at him now. What’s my favorite movie? Really? I know he’s trying to avoid my persistent questioning, but he could have at least come up with something better. “Lady and the Tramp,” I finally admit, mostly because I’ve given up on finding out why he cares if I hang out with Jake.
“The Disney movie?” There’s a laugh threatening to escape his lips, but when I nod and he realizes I’m completely serious, he clears his throat to get rid of it. “Why?”
“Because,” I say defensively, “it’s the greatest love story of all time. Romeo and Juliet have got nothing on Lady and Tramp. They were so different yet they made it work. Lady was totally normal and Tramp was totally reckless, yet they fell in love.” I pause to breathe, replaying the movie in my head. I find myself smiling. “And plus, the spaghetti scene is totally iconic.”
“Totally,” Tyler mocks. Now he is laughing, and it only reinforces my earlier realization that he does absolutely nothing besides give me migraines. I don’t get it at all. How can he go from being so angry and nasty one second to relaxed and playful the next? “And I’m pretty sure Lady wasn’t normal. She was boring and didn’t know how to have fun. Tramp’s my kinda guy.”