He raises his eyebrows. “What, you’re disturbed? Trust me, I’m more horrified by it than you could ever be.”
“Your family sounds weird,” I say, but the truth is, his family sounds nice. The idea of coming home to two parents, to a little brother, to a group of people who know you well enough to make fun of you. It sounds wonderful.
But I don’t have a chance to think about it anymore, because we’re in front of my house.
“This is it,” I say. “You can let me off here.”
“And what?” Drew says. “Make you hobble up the stairs? My Southern mother would never stand for that.”
“Is this situation in your official Southern Manners Guide?” I ask. “What to Do When You Encounter a Poor, Pathetic Girl Who Tried to Walk in Heels?”
“Maybe not in those exact words,” Drew says as we climb the stairs. I shift my weight a little to find my keys in my coat pocket and slide them in the door.
Drew easily maneuvers me inside and suddenly, I’m seeing our house as a stranger—or a movie star—would.
“I know it’s nothing special,” I say in a rush. “It’s messy and cluttered and that couch is about a million years old, but—”
“Annie,” Drew says with a laugh, and I’m struck again by the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth, like no one’s ever said it before. “This is amazing. I’ve been living out of a hotel room; this looks like paradise to me.”
He walks around the living room, still carrying me, inspecting the artwork and the knickknacks, of which there are many. I notice everything now; the way our outdated wallpaper is slightly curling right there at the corner, the way that throw pillow is threadbare, the way the TV is covered in a thin layer of dust.
“Your parents?” he asks, gesturing with his head toward the framed wedding photo on the wall.
“Yep,” I say, and he gives me a smile, a tiny, sad one, one that says he understands.
“Your mom was really beautiful,” he says. “I mean, your dad was beautiful, too. Don’t wanna leave him out.”
I laugh a little. “You can put me down now. You’ve safely delivered this damsel to her house, and your Southern duty is over.”
“Annie?”
I hear Uncle Don’s voice before I see him. He walks down the stairs, then stops when he sees us. Maybe some other person would wonder why a popular actor was carrying his niece through the house like a giant baby, but Don acts like all of this is normal.
“Drew! Good to see you again!” he says, smiling as if Drew is here on a purely social call. “Did you find the book?”
I snort, about to explain that there’s no way Drew would have the chance or inclination to finish a book that’s almost a thousand pages long, but before I can say that, Drew answers, “I’m reading it now.”
“Shhh!” Don waves his arms, then points at me. “No spoilers. She hasn’t read it yet. I’ll lend you my copy of the second book so you’re ready to go when you finish this one.”
I turn my head slowly to look at Drew, my mouth open, and he shrugs. And then I remember, once again, that he’s still holding me and I say, “Okay, I’m getting down now.”
As Drew gently places me on the floor, Uncle Don finally notices that something is amiss. “Oh, Annie. What did you do? Do you want Dungeon Master Rick to look at it when he gets here? You know he’s an EMT.”
“No!” I shout, then my eyes bolt to Drew’s face. He’s looking at me with wide eyes. “I just tripped and hurt my foot. It’s the very definition of ‘no big deal.’”
“Can you carry her upstairs?” Don asks, turning to Drew, who’s apparently his new book bestie and most trusted friend now.
“I’m here to serve,” Drew says jovially.
“Oh, I don’t require any further assistance,” I say. “I’m capable of walking up the stairs.” Because the thing is, I really, really don’t want Drew Danforth to see the state of my bedroom and my tiny bed, when he probably has, like, a California King that’s covered in a million-thread-count sheets. Did I even make my bed today? Is there underwear on the floor? I’m not in the habit of leaving any clothing on the floor, but I’m sure