“I’ve never seen you so undecided about coming into my room,” I said when I found him in the same place after I’d slid out of my shoes.
“That’s because I know better now.”
His words lodged a lump in my throat. I’d hurt him back then, but he’d hurt me too. So badly the scars I wore from what Boone and I had done to each other were ones I’d carry to my grave. But I didn’t want to play the blame game this week. I wanted to bury the past once and for all with him.
“Are you coming in or not? Because I’m tired, and if you’re going to stay out there all night, I’ll just toss you a pillow and blanket now.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in? Beg and plead until I cave like you used to?” Boone’s voice was low and sharp.
“No, I’m not,” I answered, all emotion drained from my voice. “Because I know better now too.”
A huff came from the doorway right before he took his first step inside my room. After a few more, he closed the door, sealing us inside . . . and the air went from light to so thick with tension it felt stifling.
I pretended I didn’t even notice, continuing to wander about my bedroom. I unzipped my suitcases Boone had propped up over by my closet, and turned on the light in the bathroom that adjoined my room.
My parents had left my bedroom just the way I’d left it seven years ago. No doubt waiting for their prodigal daughter to return and snuggle beneath those lavender flower sheets, cuddle the stuffed bear on her nightstand they didn’t know Boone had won me at a carnival one summer, and get back to being their good, obedient daughter.
If that was what they were waiting for, it would prove to be a lifelong wait.
“Hey, thanks, by the way, for listening to me earlier and staying hidden tonight. Nothing like coming home to the firing squad that is my family and throwing you into the mix five minutes later.” I pulled out a pair of pajamas from my suitcase, but it was more for a distraction.
“No problem, Clara. Glad I could be of service.” Boone settled into one of the chairs in the other corner of the room and tugged off his boots.
The air might have been heavy with tension, but there was something else moving in and taking over. Anger.
“Why in the hell did you do that?” I said, my words feeling venomous in my mouth.
Boone’s boots bounced across the carpet as he tossed each one. Pulling off his socks, he did the same with those. He knew I was a bit of a neat freak when it came to my room, and this was clearly another way for him to try to ruffle me. “Because I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.”
I popped up, wringing the heck out of my pajamas. “I’m paying you, Boone—a hell of a lot of money too. All I asked was for you to stay here and be a ‘dirty little secret’ for tonight.”
“That’s right. Exactly.” He rose out of the chair, angling himself in my direction. “This is business. Which means I’m not some star-struck boy in love with a girl and willing to do anything for her. You might have been able to ask me to stay hidden in your room when we were kids, but I’m not a fucking child anymore, so stop treating me like one.”
Pacing across the room, I collected his scattered boots and socks and tucked them neatly against the wall outside the bathroom. “Oh, yeah? Stop acting like one then.”
Boone fired off another huff. “You first.”
“Your maturity just keeps careening,” I said before slamming the bathroom door behind me and locking it. I was planning on changing into my pajamas before crawling into bed and putting this whole God-forsaken day behind me, but instead I found myself leaning into the bathroom counter and fighting an onslaught of tears I hadn’t known were coming until they were close to spilling.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been locked inside the bathroom, fighting off tears as fervently as I’d been fighting off bad memories all night, when a soft knock came at the door.
“Clara?” Boone’s voice was quiet, back to the same one I remembered. “I need to take a piss.”
So much had changed about him . . . and so much hadn’t. I shoved off of the counter and finally changed into my pajamas. “There’s a plant just outside the door. I’m sure it could use a good watering.”
From the other side of the door, Boone sighed. “Clara?” Another sigh. “Are you okay?”
I kept changing, focusing on stuffing my arm through a shirt sleeve and my legs through the shorts’ legs. “I’m okay, Boone.”
Once I was done changing, I doused some cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, and pulled open the bathroom door.
He was still there, hovering just outside. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I said, slipping past him. “It’s all yours. Sorry for the plant comment.”
Boone chuckled as he moved inside the bathroom. “I’m not. If you had taken another minute longer, I would have gladly ‘watered’ that plant. In fact, I just might before I leave this week, because I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to take a piss on something of your dad’s . . .”