The Girl Next Door

12. Dinner

Mom came home earlier than I expected. When I told her our next-door neighbor would be coming over to work on a school project, she seemed genuinely pleased.

"It's good to see you taking your studies seriously," she said with a smile. "Not that I ever doubted you. You've always been a responsible kid."

I helped her set the table for dinner, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in my chest. When the doorbell rang, I froze for a second.

I know it was her. Or maybe it's the boys mocking me again. But I can't shake the feeling of excitement bursting out in my chest.

"It's Astrid," I said to my mom as I opened the door.

There she was, standing on the porch in a sweatshirt, her hands tucked into the pocket at the front. She smiled politely, and for a second, I forgot how cold it was outside.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Hey," I managed to reply.

Before I could say anything else, Mom appeared behind me. "You must be Astrid! Come in, come in—you must be freezing!"

Astrid stepped inside, her breath visible in the chilly air.

"Have you had dinner, dear?" Mom asked.

"Oh, yes, I have," Astrid replied with a small smile.

"Well, I made some salad and beef ball soup. You should at least try some before you get started," Mom offered warmly.

Astrid hesitated for a second before nodding. "I'd love to. Thank you."

Dinner turned out to be surprisingly relaxed. Astrid wasn't just polite; she was witty, effortlessly making Mom laugh harder than I'd heard in a while. It was strange, seeing someone so guarded at school suddenly so charming and at ease.

When we finished eating, Mom waved us off. "You two go ahead and work on your project. I'll clean up here."

I hesitated for a moment, scratching the back of my neck. "Um, okay. We'll be upstairs. Thanks, Mom."

Astrid followed me up, her footsteps light behind mine. As we reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back at her. "Sorry about that. My mom's, uh... really friendly when she takes a liking to someone."

Astrid smiled faintly. "Don't apologize. She's nice. And that soup? Amazing."

"She'll love to hear that," I said with a laugh. "She doesn't usually warm up to people this quickly."

"Guess I'm special," she said with a playful glint in her eye. And she's right. She is special.

I opened the door to my room, stepping aside to let her in. "Okay, so... here we are. Sorry, it's not much." But to be honest, I took the time to clean up my room before. So it wasn't as messy as you think it is.

Astrid glanced around, her hands still in her sweatshirt pockets. "It's fine. I've seen worse."

"Uh, thanks?" I said, unsure if that was a compliment.

She smirked, pulling out the script from her bag. "Relax, McCartney. Let's get to work."

*****

The lines weren't for me. Seriously, Mr. Darcy? I couldn't even begin to explain half of what he was supposed to feel or say. It was way out of my league.

But then there was Astrid.

She sat across from me, flipping through her script like she'd done this a thousand times before. The moment she started reading as Elizabeth Bennet, something shifted. It was like she wasn't Astrid anymore—she became her. The way she delivered the lines, the confidence, the fire in her words—it was unreal.