Between Us

Chapter 12

At six, I was at his house wearing one of the outfits that I had bought. This time, though, he had to see it. I wasn't entirely too thrilled about that; what if he made fun of me or something? I couldn't even imagine that. I tried to push that thought down by thinking of positive things like my mom and dad smiling for the first time in a while, like making new friends with Paris and even having the opportunity to have a full-blown conversation with Jordan.

Yeah, that felt much better.

Now, we were seated on his couch. Well, I was seated on the black couch and he was on the one opposite me. His house was kind of similar to ours, except his living room was on the left and there was a fireplace opposite the couches, with a TV hung up above it. Okay, I take it back. His house was nothing like ours.

It was way better.

"Do you want to go over things or ogle my house?" Caden remarked.

"I don't understand what you're trying to do."

"I explained a few minutes ago," he deadpanned. I flushed. Whoops? "First I want to know what you said to that guy at the video game store since you were successful. Maybe there won't be many changes in that area."

"Changes?!"

"Do you want to attract Jordan or not?"

I scratched the back of my neck, the tight rib top suddenly unbreathable. "Attract is a strong word," I murmured.

Mercilessly, he said, "In Jordan's eyes, you're an awkward, bumbling little girl in the body of a woman." Oof. He wasn't wrong. I just didn't want to admit it. "If you don't want to try to get rid of that image of you, that's your choice."

"No, I...I do. I want to get rid of that image."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at me. "Then you have to listen. Pretend I'm Jordan for today. Speak to me as you would if you were to speak with him."

"What? Right now?"

"When else?" he said, monotone. "Hurry up."

"Well, this is a little awkward to imagine. Can't you give me a scenario or something?"

Caden pursed his lips as he leaned back. "Paris invited you over. I'm here sitting on the couch, reading a book. Now go."

"Um..." My brain scrambled to think of something to say. How was I supposed to go along with this? Improv had never been my strong suit when I actually went to school once upon a time. "...hi...Jordan, uh, what are you doing her—reading here. Reading." I sucked at this, what the heck? How come I was mostly fine when speaking to the guy from the mall but couldn't even pretend to speak to Jordan? With the way Caden was staring at me, it looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. Or commit murder. My murder. "Was it that bad?" I mumbled.

"Fucking horrible," said Caden without even blinking. I frowned. "You speak too fast and you stumble over your own tongue. That throws you off your game and you become flustered."

"How can I fix that?"

"Slow down. Jordan isn't gonna bite your head off. Once you understand that, it'll come easy." He shrugged. "But you need to occasionally practice to get better."

"With you?"

"With anyone you can find." So I had to speak to more strangers? That seemed more dangerous than practical. "You can call stores and try to speak to them about their newest products and their prices. It's not about who or what you speak about, but improving your speech. And smile. You look like you'll shit your pants if you don't get those words out of you in one breath."

"Rude," I mumbled. But he did have sound advice. I wondered how he knew so much. Was one of his parents a doctor or psychologist or something? I looked around. There were no photo frames or anything that suggested he had family here. Speaking of which, since coming to his house, there was only Chunk—who was sleeping in his bed—and him. I hadn't seen anyone else.

"And when you want to flirt, try to be casual."

"Why would I want to flirt?" A white rim settled around his flattened lips. Before he could explode, I hurriedly said, "Okay, okay. Flirting means being casual. Got it!"

He took out his phone and dialled a number. "What are you doing?" He didn't respond until the line clicked to indicate someone had picked up.

"Hey, Caden, what's up?"

It was a very manly voice. Uh oh. He tried to hand the phone over to me but I shook my head almost violently. He grabbed my open hand and slapped the phone inside. "Speak," he ordered.

"Hello?" The voice came floating through again.

"H-Hi! Um," Caden sharpened his gaze, "how...are you?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"Shyla, of course. And who are you?" I can do this, I can do this, I thought. It's not like Caden's trying to deliberately ruin my life, pfft.

"I'm Harry—wait, why do you have Caden's phone?"

"To..." Caden gestured at the phone. "...speak to you, of course. I've heard you're very, um, hot." I grimaced, but luckily Harry chuckled.

"I'm not gonna lie. This is weird. But whoever told you that isn't wrong."

Relief spread through me like wildfire, and as Caden grabbed the phone and ended the call, he said, "Not all calls are gonna go like this. It's important you try and go with the flow."

"Your methods are weird," I said, trying to focus on calming my heart down, the blood pumping all the way to the sides of my head.

"You asked for my help," he drawled.

And I was starting to regret it if it meant being on the edge of a heart attack each time. Not to mention my bladder felt like it was about to explode as much as my heart was. "Can I use the bathroom?"

Caden gestured down the hall. "Down the hall and to your left."

After I had done my business, I closed the door and was about to head back, but I caught sight of a slightly ajar door. It looked like Caden's. The only room that had any semblance of humanity in it; the walls were painted dark green and there were notebooks strewn across the bed and the floor, a guitar laying against the wall nearby the window and—the door slammed shut, a hand splayed across the wood.

I gulped, seeing Caden beside me, the corded veins in his neck visible. "I think it's time for you to leave," he said in an eerily calm voice. Beneath was a molten volcano ready to burst and I really didn't want to bother it. I nodded and rushed down the hall, put on my shoes and headed back out as if nothing had happened.

It was clear to me that, while helping, he was also hiding things. Things I don't think I wanted to know. The darkening of his eyes and the barely concealed snarl that simmered beneath told me that I shouldn't want to get involved.

Caden Byrnes was a mystery that needed to stay a mystery.