“That sounds like something I would say.” He laughs as he lifts his head, his eyes locking onto mine. Neither of us wants to be the first to look away, so neither of us do. “We’re hanging out tonight,” he states. I get the feeling that I wouldn’t be able to object even if I wanted to, and I stand there, my eyes dilated with attraction as I listen to the words roll off his tongue. “Let me take you out. Have you been to the pier yet? Pacific Park?”
“No,” I admit a little sheepishly. How have I been here for three weeks and not yet stepped foot onto the pier? The closest I’ve been to it is when I’m at the beach. But it looks amazing from afar.
“Then we’ll go to the pier,” he decides.
A lump rises in my throat as his lips curl up into a mysterious smirk, his emerald eyes sparkling, an untold story hidden within his eyes.
And it occurs to me exactly then that I am entirely on point.
Dark-haired guys are so, so much better.
Chapter 21
I’d like to pretend that I’m staring at Ella’s lasagna. But I’m not. I’m gazing past the food, my eyes boring into those of the guy sitting across from me with his chin resting on his hand. The guy who is quite literally the epitome of nonchalance right now. I bite my lip as I run my eyes over his jaw, over his lips, over his drawn-together eyebrows, over the sparkle within his eyes. Every so often, he smirks when no one is looking.
“So, Eden,” Dad says, raising his voice a little to get my attention. My eyes immediately plummet back down to my plate and my hands fumble anxiously with my cutlery as I fork up another bite of lasagna. “You’re being so quiet tonight.” He wiggles his brows and points his knife at me, a slight chuckle in his throat. “What are you thinking about?”
“I was—um—I was just—I—uhhh.” The words keep on stuttering past my lips like I’m a three-year-old attempting to string sentences together, so I shove the food into my mouth and offer a closed smile instead.
“How’s the lasagna?” Ella asks us all, her eyes widening a little as she hopes for a positive response. I’m just glad that she’s changed the subject. We all nod our heads in appreciation of the dish she’s slaved over. Even Tyler sits up slightly and sends her a small smile. She made a separate lasagna for him—four cheese, and definitely vegetarian.
“It’s great, Mom,” he says, and her face lights up with a warm glow.
My eyes drift between the two of them, watching their eyes soften as they exchange a glance, and I wonder how their relationship is configured. A lot of the time Ella just seems disappointed in him, but there are also brief moments where they seem to share a sense of silent understanding.
“It tastes so great that…” Tyler continues as he pulls the plate toward him, scooping up a large portion and lifting the fork to his lips. He leans forward over the plate as he takes a huge bite, but half of it falls from his mouth and lands on the table. Sheepishly, he laughs and wipes the sauce from his lips with his thumb. “It tastes so great that now I’m totally full,” he says after he swallows.
Dad arches a brow from the opposite end of the table. “You’re in a good mood tonight, Tyler,” he says.
Tyler presses his lips together as he folds his arms on the table, his eyes moving from Dad to me. As he catches my gaze, he tries his hardest to suppress a smile. But I see it. “I guess I am.” He clears his throat and pushes himself up, getting to his feet and carrying his plate over to the dishwasher. When he turns back around, his face is blank. “I’m gonna head out.”
“Where?” Ella immediately looks up, and she turns around to face him. Even Jamie glances up to hear Tyler’s excuse. “You’re grounded.”
“But I’m seeing Tiffani,” he completely lies, and he’s such a good bluffer that even I believe him for a moment. And then I remember. “Didn’t you say you’re hanging out with Meghan, Eden?”
I’m about to say no, but then he shoots me a stern look. He wants me to lie. So I say, “Yeah,” and then steal a glance at Dad to see if he’s buying it. Right now, I think he is.
“I can give you a ride there,” Tyler pushes, his voice slightly strained as he keeps his eyes firmly locked on me. He gives me the slightest of nods as he waits for me to play along.
“Thanks,” I blurt. If I attempt a longer answer, I’m bound to trip on my own words. So I smile a silly little smile and place my cutlery onto my plate as Ella stands to clean up.
But Tyler has no problem smirking back at me, like he’s forgotten our parents are in the room. Either that or he simply doesn’t care if they see or not. “Ten minutes?”
If only they knew we aren’t actually talking about him giving me a ride to Meghan’s place. “Ten minutes is fine.”
“I’ll just meet you at the car.” He throws me a wink before sauntering out of the kitchen in his black jeans and white T-shirt. I stare after him, watching the way he rubs the back of his neck as he leaves, gazing after his tall figure and adoring the way he tilts his head down as he walks.