Then You Saw Me by Carrie Aarons
16
Austin
I’ve been tiptoeing around my house like a goddamn burglar for three days.
And I’ve never felt more like one than I do now, coming in at two a.m. after my radio shift. My brain is haggard and wiped, I feel like I’ve been up all night studying, and I was just sitting at the station playing smooth jazz because one of our DJs called out at the last minute.
The house is dark and silent with no trace of life, which is kind of better than me walking in to a lively party, dinner at the big table in the kitchen, or a binge session of a show in the living room.
Because it’s been awkward as hell here. I’m assuming the other two girls know, because Bevan has been flipping me off or glaring at me while Amelie is just avoiding me altogether. Callum shook his head and chuckled the other day when I passed him on the way to our shared bathroom. And Scott either doesn’t care or is oblivious, but the guy always lives in his own world and is barely home.
Of course, Taya hasn’t spoken to me. For the record, I’m avoiding her as well, obviously. I don’t even know what to think at this point. I’ve gone back and forth in my head so many times that I feel like I’ve been riding around on a permanent roller coaster this week.
One second, I’ll think she’s just like everyone else in my hometown. A user, a girl after my last name, someone who just wants to claim she slept with a Van Hewitt. And the next, I remember the expression on her face when she realized what that letter said.
It wasn’t the face of someone who had been caught red-handed. Taya hadn’t looked guilty or like she was trying to hide some kind of intention she had. No, she looked embarrassed. She looked sad. She looked helpless to explain what she’d been thinking. There is a difference there, and I’m not sure I thought about that until now.
Still, I’m defensive. This has been my whole life, trying to keep people away from me who mentioned my last name too much.
But here I am, sneaking around in the dark again. I try not to make too much noise as I unlock the front door and walk in. No one in the living room or the hallway. The downstairs bathroom is empty. Bevan’s field hockey stick sits by the bench where we all take our shoes off, and Amelie must have baked something again because the whole first floor smells like cinnamon. Amelie is always baking. As I walk through the dining room, which has most of its furniture moved because of the most recent party, I see Callum’s backpack and textbooks all over the floor. Then there is Scott’s photography equipment, backdrops, and carrying straps that he leaves in this room. Apparently, he’s incredibly talented and barely has to try. From what I know of him, that sounds pretty accurate.
It strikes me that these people are becoming integrated into my life. I’ve lived with them for over a month now, and I know their habits. I’ve learned their likes and dislikes, their schedules. We know each other in ways that no one else will, and it makes us a dysfunctional sort of family.
As I enter the kitchen, the light from the fridge illuminates the room, and I move closer. Bent over so that the most spectacular ass is highlighted in her pink pajama pants, Taya is examining the contents inside. She straightens and plucks a grape out of a bag on the top shelf and then pokes at a Tupperware full of noodles. She removes a cup of yogurt and then thinks better and puts it back.
My lord, but she’s beautiful. I only see the slope of her back, the slender curve of her hips, the way her hair whispers down her shoulders as she moves ever so slightly. I remember the way her long, slender legs draped across my lap, her thighs parting as I planted her in a straddle. The way she gyrated on top of me, how I’d gone rock-solid in a second flat.
Blood rushes to the head of my very disappointed dick. I should slink off, go up to the attic, keep up this game of avoiding for as long as I can.
But like usual, when it comes to Taya, I can’t help myself.
“I won’t tell Bevan you’re eating her food if you won’t.” My voice is low, but she still jumps.
Her body rotates mid-jump until she’s looking at me, and she clutches a hand to her chest. “Holy shit, you scared me.”
I hold my hands up as if to say sorry. “Didn’t mean to. I’m just getting in from the midnight shift at the radio station.”
“Isn’t the graveyard shift for newbies? I remember my freshman year roommate used to work it and play jazz at three a.m.” She scrunches up her nose like that’s the worst fate in the world.
I chuckle, because her expression is adorable, but also because I’m not sure how this girl manages to make cute and sexy seem to mesh so well. A pang of confusion passes through me because these are the first words we’ve exchanged in days, and I somehow miss her. We aren’t even an us, and yet I miss talking to her. Even after everything I discovered.
“I haven’t taken a midnight shift in two years, since I was lowly enough to beg for one. That sounds conceited. Shit.” I laugh nervously, because I don’t want Taya thinking I’m some asshole who lives up to his family name, the very one I got pissed at her over. “What I mean is, I’ve paid my dues and earned my right to the prime hours. But as the station manager and lead producer, I also have to pick up the slack should any shift not be filled.”
She nods her head. “I get it. The captain goes down with the ship, so you’re keeping it from sinking.”
“Something like that.”
We lapse into an awkward silence, and I’m painfully aware of how quiet the rest of the house is. Taya’s expression changes to something between uncomfortable and dejection, and I can see she’s about to bolt.
I’ve been debating seeking her out to talk but haven’t been able to get out of my own way. I’m taking this as the universe doing it for me, and I speak before she can run away.
“Listen, Taya, I feel like we should—”
She cuts me off before I can even finish the sentence, though I have no idea where it was going in the first place.
“I don’t really want to talk about it, okay? Let’s just pretend this never happened. Yeah?”
“It’s just, I think we’re avoiding each other.” I point out, though I don’t know why.
Isn’t that what I want: to avoid her? I was weirded out by that diatribe for me in her letter, and I should be avoiding her. This is exactly the type of girl from Webton that I don’t want to interact with, let alone entertain, having some fun or a relationship with.
“We’re housemates, that’s it. That’s all we have to be. Please, just put me out of my misery and don’t talk to me? Talking is the last thing I want to do.”
Her eyes beg me, and my chest constricts. Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been dead wrong about this situation the entire time. Taya looks so small, which is never something I want to make anyone feel. But especially her. She’s exposed, vulnerable, and here I’ve been avoiding her like some idiot who found out a girl liked him and sprinted in the other direction.
I’m just as bad as all those frat guys on campus that I hate.
“I just feel like there is an elephant sitting between us, and I’d like to address it.” I try to act like the man I’m supposed to be in a couple of months when college turns into the real world.
“Consider it addressed. I’m embarrassed, you think I’m creepy, and we can lay it to rest. No need to keep up this charade, we both move on. And I’ll see you around.”
She’s talking fast in a hushed tone, as if she’s trying not to cry. I watch the way her captivating hazel eyes go shiny with unshed tears.
“I don’t think you’re creepy at all, I just didn’t know what I was reading. It was alarming—”
Taya throws up her hands and snorts out a self-deprecating laugh. “Now, I’m not just embarrassed, but I have to worry about being alarming.”
“Shit, no, that’s the wrong word, I—” I fucked up with my words, which I tend to do.
Note to self, get better at communicating because you really suck at it. Especially with girls.
Taya backs away, retreating to the stairs. “I get it, Austin. I really do. You won’t have to worry about my ‘alarming’ behavior anymore.”
Another interaction gone wrong, I think to myself as I hear her footsteps up the stairs. There seem to be a thousand obstacles when it comes to Taya and me. I just can’t quite seem to say anything right to her, and maybe it’s for the best that we can’t seem to get on the right page.
So why do I feel so distraught and empty standing in this kitchen alone when my heart lit up the minute it saw her standing in the light of the fridge?