Well, that was weird.
Even weirder, there was a note taped to the fridge, written in bright purple ink. It said, "Arden – I've decided I don't want that bedroom after all. So it's all yours. You're welcome. Waverly."
More confused than ever, I glanced around. When my gaze landed on the living room, I did a double-take.
Waverly's suitcases were gone.
What did that mean?
I wandered to the front window and peered outside. I saw no sign of Brody's truck.
My pulse quickened. Maybe they'd decided to stay at a hotel or something?
I considered this possibility for nearly an hour until curiosity overcame my better instincts.
Silently, I padded down the bedroom hall and listened at each bedroom door for the sounds of activity.
I heard nothing.
Feeling like a total idiot, I called out, "Hello? Is anyone home?"
Silence.
Cautiously, I opened the nearest bedroom door and peered inside. On the floor near the bed was a single black duffle bag. Brody's?
Probably.
I padded to the second bedroom and rapped lightly on the door before calling out again. When I received no response, I pushed open the door and frowned at what I saw inside. There it was – all of Waverly's luggage lined up against the far wall.
Apparently, I still had roommates – and my bedroom.
By now, I had no idea what to think.
Had Brody stuck up for me?
It seemed incredibly unlikely. But no other theory made sense.
Already, I'd figured out that he wasn't the same person I recalled from high school. But what he'd become since then, I couldn’t be sure.
And all of the mixed signals weren't helping.
Sometime around midnight, I was hiding out in my bedroom when Brody and Waverly returned from who-knows-where. Maybe dinner? Or something else?
As far as my own dinner, I'd eaten alone, consuming the rest of the pizza from the previous night.
After the return of my roommates, I remained firmly in my bedroom, preferring solitude over their dubious company.
Waverly, I could handle. But Brody? He made me nervous, because my feelings for him swung so wildly – from pure hatred to something a lot more unsettling.
Right then and there, I decided that I'd be smart to avoid him as much as possible.
And I would've, too, if only I weren't forced to spend some serious time with him the very next day.
Chapter 28
Arden
I gave Roy a puzzled look. "But what are we supposed to talk about?"
"That's up to you," Roy said, hoisting his video camera higher onto his shoulder. "It's visual only. No audio."
I was standing on my grandparent's front porch with Roy and Brody. It was just past seven-thirty in the morning, and Roy had greeted me at the front door with an unsettling announcement. Apparently, Brody and I would begin the day by walking along the beach while Roy filmed us.
I gave Brody a sideways glance. From the look on his face, he wasn't any happier about this than I was.
I asked Roy, "But what does that have to do with the house?"
"You're the consultant," Roy said, as if this explained everything.
It didn't. "But—
Brody spoke up. "Let's just get it over with, alright?"
My jaw clenched. Get it over with?Like it was some sort of punishment? "Fine." I looked back to Roy. "Just point me where I need to go."
In reply, Roy flicked his head toward the rear of the house, the part that faced the beach. "Act like you're showing him the sights or something – you know, sunrise over the beach and all that."
I loved the beach at sunrise.
While living with my grandparents, I'd seen it so many times that maybe it should've gotten old and boring. But it never had. And, considering how much I loved it, it probably never would.
Under normal circumstances, I'd be thrilled to share it with just about anyone – well, anyone except Brody Blastoviak, especially with the way he was looking at me now.
Judging from his expression, he'd rather be anywhere but here – and with anyone but me. As he looked me over, I returned the favor, giving him the same level of scrutiny.
Today, he was wearing his usual getup – jeans and a T-shirt, along with heavy work boots. His jeans were slightly loose, hanging low on his hips and hinting at the amazing abs resting just above the button of his faded jeans.
Thanks to the loose cut of his shirt, I couldn’t actually see his abs, but I'd caught enough glimpses over the past couple of days to imagine plenty, assuming that I cared to dwell on it, which I totally didn't.
When I refused to look away, Brody said, "Is there a problem?"
I stiffened at his tone. "Yes, actually."
I gave his boots a long, concerned look. During the whole time I'd lived at my grandparent's place, I'd never seen anyone strolling along the beach in work boots.
Since I was supposedly the consultant here, was this something I should point out?
Probably.
I looked to Roy and said, "If you want it to look authentic, shouldn't he be wearing tennis shoes or something?"
Brody's voice sliced out between us. "The boots are fine. It's a discussion, not a date."
I felt my eyes narrow. Talk about arrogant.
"Good," I said. "Because I wouldn't want to date you, anyway."
"Good," he shot back. "Because you're not my type."
"Yeah? Well you're not my type either."
He glowered at me. I glowered at him. And then, as if remembering that we had an audience, we both looked to Roy.
Son-of-a-bitch.
Roy was smiling like he'd just gotten lucky. And he was filming us.
Of course.
I gave Roy the squinty-eye. "You did say this was visual only, right?"
In reply, Roy made that now-familiar forwarding motion with his hand, as if to indicate that we should ignore him and keep on doing whatever.
Suddenly, I decided that Brody had the right idea. Let's just get it over with.
Without further commentary, I turned and stomped toward the rear of the house, with Brody at my side.
In
