relaxed as soon as I crossed the threshold into their house. But today, I felt on edge.
We found Skipper in the living room, playing with a stuffed mouse. He was briefly interested in me, but when he determined I wasn’t going to feed him, he went back to toying with the mouse instead.
“Where’s Mittens?” I asked, turning to look at Henry.
He was standing a few feet behind me, hugging his arms to his chest. Was he acting weird, or was I just afraid he was acting weird because I felt weird?
Too many levels of weirdness. It was freaking me out.
“My room?” Henry sounded hesitant.
“Oh. I mean, I don’t have to—”
“You can totally—”
We both started, and stopped, talking at the same time.
“I just didn’t know if you—”
“I mean, I don’t mind if you—”
We stopped again. God, how could things be so awkward when I hadn’t even said anything yet? It must just roll off of me in waves.
“Come on.”
Henry turned around and headed for his bedroom. He didn’t sound very enthused about it, but there was nothing I could do except follow after.
Mittens was exactly where I expected—lying in her favorite sunny spot in front of the window—and some of the awkwardness receded as I knelt to pet her. She immediately rolled over and exposed her underbelly, and I tickled her there.
“You’re still the only person she lets do that,” Henry said behind me, sounding a little annoyed.
“That’s because she knows there’s no one in the world who loves her more than I do,” I replied with a grin. I turned back to Mittens. “Don’t you know that? Yes, you do. Yes, you do.”
I brought my face in close to hers and she batted at my nose. “You know that Uncle Blakey loves you, and that’s why he’s your favorite person in the whole wide world.”
Abruptly, Mittens rolled over and bounded up onto the window sill, leaving me bent forward, my face five inches from the floor. Henry laughed.
“Clearly,” he snickered.
I looked at the T-shirt Mittens had been lying on. “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills?” I arched an eyebrow, looking over my shoulder. “Since when do you watch that?”
I was pretty sure I remembered Henry writing a paper sometime in high school about how reality TV was a scourge on television as an art form.
His cheeks flushed. “I don’t. I just—it’s not even—I just borrowed that shirt from my boyfriend when I needed one and I haven’t had a chance to give it back yet.”
“You have a boyfriend?” My jaw dropped.
I didn’t mean to sound so surprised. But I’d never considered that he might not be single. Which I realized immediately was stupid of me.
Why wouldn’t Henry have a boyfriend? He was smart and talented and passionate and okay, fine, maybe a little bit cute too. Of course other guys would realize the same thing.
But Christ, I’d almost asked him to have sex with me.
Henry’s cheeks were crimson now. “You don’t have to sound so surprised about it.”
“Shit, sorry.” I stood up and faced him. “Really, I didn’t mean it like—I was just surprised because Claire never mentioned—like, I hear a lot about your family from her, but I hadn’t heard that, you know, that you…”
I trailed off, trying to see if my words were helping at all. Henry wasn’t looking at the floor anymore, but he was staring off at an old poster of Angels in America hanging above his desk, still refusing to look me in the eye.
“I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to sound like such an asshole. That’s awesome that you’re dating someone. What’s his name?”
“Carter.” He said the word like it physically pained him.
“Cool. How did you guys meet?”
I cringed internally. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. It wasn’t like I liked Henry or anything. He could have ten boyfriends for all I cared. But I didn’t need the details of their relationship rubbed in my face.
He still hadn’t answered, though, so I did the only thing I knew how to do—doubled down and kept blathering.
“Does he go to school in LA too? Is he in the theater program? That’s cool that you met someone who shares your interests. Claire always says that’s the most important thing in a relationship, though she has also been single for two years, so maybe she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But still, I would think that having someone in the same program as you would be fun.”
“He’s not a student.” Henry cast a