her lip. "But how will you make your toast?"
"Screw the toast."
I was standing just outside the front door. She was still inside. But even from here, I could smell the scent of her shampoo and see the flecks of gold in her troubled brown eyes.
Quietly, she said, "What, you don't like it anymore?"
These days, I wasn't liking much of anything. Everywhere I looked, I saw the Arden I thought I knew.
And now, even the maple cabinets pissed me off.
We'd picked them out together. The granite countertops, too.
And we'd had a good time doing it. Back then, Arden had made everything better – more interesting, more fun, more like home. A real home.
As far as the kitchen, I recalled my promise to lift her sweet ass onto the finished countertop and screw her silly, just the way she liked.
But of course, I hadn't counted on us being broken up by the time the kitchen was actually done.
Now, just looking at Arden made me feel sick inside. She looked so sweet, with her big brown eyes and long, brown hair. She was wearing dark jeans that hugged her hips and a pale pink T-shirt that made me recall the pink of her nipples and the taste of her lips.
Like a dumb-ass, I still missed her. Not just her body. The whole package, inside and out.
What a cluster.
As our gazes locked, she moved closer and said in a near whisper, "If it makes you feel any better, I hate toast, too."
She hadn't always.
But I got what she meant.
Misery loves company, huh?
But hey, this was her doing, not mine. And for all I knew, this latest scene was just another ploy to get what she wanted – the only thing she wanted.
The house.
I told her, "It's not your house, remember?"
She blinked. "I never said that it was."
"Yeah? Then how come you're acting like it?"
She took a small step backward. "I'm not." She frowned. "I just don't want you to have a terrible kitchen, that's all."
With a laugh, I said, "Get real, will ya? It's not about me. It's about you."
She shook her head. "It is not."
"Right." And with that, I turned away.
"Wait!"
Once again, I turned back. "Why?"
Her face was flushed, and her eyes were accusing as she said, "Because I want to know why you're being like this."
"Yeah? And I wanna know things, too. But hey, that's life. Deal with it."
"Deal with it?" She made a scoffing sound. "That's soooo easy for you to say. Everything works out for you."
"Is that so?"
"Definitely," she said. "Even that thing in high school, you were the one who started it – the thing that made us hate each other in the first place."
Where the hell had that come from? "What?"
"The lab," she said. "It was your fault it blew up."
"No kidding." With a tight smile, I leaned toward her and said in a low voice, "Boom."
She flinched. "That's not funny."
"Maybe not to you."
"No. It's not funny, period." She glared out at me. "Although I can see why you'd think so. You came out just fine."
"We were both suspended," I reminded her. "Not just you."
"Yeah, but I didn't do anything to deserve it. And you? You didn't even care about being suspended. But I did."
"So?"
"So it cost you nothing. And it cost me everything." In a quieter voice, she added, "At least as far as school."
"Yeah, well." I shrugged. "That was a long time ago. So like I said, get over it."
"Get over it?" she repeated. "Do you even remember how awful you were that day?"
I didn't want to talk about. I didn't want to think about it either. But hey, if she was gonna toss it in my face, maybe I'd do some tossing of my own.
"Yeah?" I said. "I was awful. And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because my mom had just told us – in a fucking letter, no less – that she wasn't coming back."
Arden froze. "What?"
"That's right," I said. "She told us she found someone she liked better."
"Better than who?" She hesitated. "Your dad?"
I laughed. It wasn't a happy sound, but fuck it. "No. Dad was long gone by then."
Her eyes filled with sympathy. "You mean dead? That long ago?"
"No. I mean, he ran off."
"But—"
"He died after. No big loss, the way I see it."
From the look on Arden’s face, she didn't agree. And hey, maybe I didn't agree either. But it was better to hate both of them than to mourn the parents they'd never been.
"So…" Arden hesitated. "When your mom said she found