Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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As we exit the car at the brunch place I chose, Chloé grabs my elbow, subtly holding me back so the two others can walk ahead of us.
For a panic-stricken second, I think she noticed the weird atmosphere when they found us upstairs.
"So, that Aran guy... He's pretty cute."
I almost go dizzy with relief, rolling my eyes with performative annoyance and bumping my hip to Chloé's torso. "Are there any of the guys I've interacted with this weekend you aren't busy setting me up with?"
"I can't help that all East Coasters look like movie stars."
"Aran is from Texas."
Chloé's brows raise, intrigue sparkling in her expression. "A southern gentleman. That's even better."
"If you find him so cute, maybe you should go out with him."
"Please, C. Dating my brother's friends isn't really my style," she says with a playful scoff as if the idea is completely ludicrous.
"Right," I mumble, something heavy settling in my stomach.
We're placed in a booth by the window. I'm beside Mattis this time while Chloé and Janice are across from us. I do my very best to ignore Mattis' presence, having successfully avoided looking at him since we left his house, but zips of awareness shoot through me every time his leg brushes mine under the table.
My body tenses on instinct for what can only be an uncomfortable meal, but surprisingly, both Mattis and Chloé seem to be on their best behavior. While their answers to each other are still short, there are no snide comments or taunts. After clearing our plates, we even end up reminiscing about people from our high school.
"-And then she got that spray tan and walked around looking like an old orange for two months," Chloé chokes out, eyes brimming with tears.
I'm holding my stomach with laughter. "Oh my god, that's right. Why did she even do that? We lived in California."
Mattis chuckles, too, a low sound that makes chills run down my spine. "She was probably trying to impress someone."
"Oh, yeah. Didn't she go to prom with Tyler Brown?" Chloé asks, dabbing the corner of her eye with a napkin.
I nod absentmindedly, attention elsewhere because the minute Chloé spoke that name Mattis froze next to me. I glance at him, taking in the polite and entirely fake smile on his lips and the way his leg begins to bounce under the table. Something is bothering him.
You don't have to be a mind reader to know what it is. Tyler Brown was the guy Mattis beat up when we were in high school, seemingly without reason. A few months ago, I would never have questioned that recollection of the event, but now I can't help but search for alternative explanations. How can the guy who did that be the same person sitting next to me right now?
