Page 9 of Penn

Which is admirable, really.

“You’re spiraling, honey,” Mom says to my reflection, a sadness on her face that she doesn’t usually let show. “I cansee youself-deprecating.”

“You cannot.”

“I can.”

She can, and it makes me want to push off of her and crumple against her at the same time.

If nothing else, I probably do need a break from my mom.

My physical therapist had given me the okay to start exercising on my own and to go out for simple errands, like getting my hair done, and light grocery shopping, and going ondates. That last one was delivered to my mother’ssupremedelight.

“He liked your stories,” she says to me suddenly, and I whirl around to shoot daggers at the real her.

“YOU GAVE HIM MY STORIES?!” I shriek, indignantly.

“What,” she says, all innocent. “I thought it was sweet he asked to read some of them.”

“Mo-omm!” I say the word like it’s three syllables instead of just one.

“I’m sorry, hon,” she apologizes like that makes this all better and not atallembarrassing. Which ones did she give him to read? Which ones didshesee? God I feel like I’m thirteen with my very first crush all over again.

I lift my fingernail to my mouth and bite down on it. My eyes lift to meet hers, bit softer this time. “He said he liked them?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Really?” I ask.

“He did.”

But which—ones.

“Hearth, baby.” She turns us both away from the mirror and puts her arm around my shoulders. I reach up to touch the necklace that sits just so at the base of my throat.

“I hate you,” I say noncommittally. At the same time I lean into her.

“No, you don’t.” She rubs my arm.

“No, I don’t.” I lay my head on her shoulder.

“Call him?” she says. She is not going to let this go.

And I might not either.

“Will you call him?” she presses.

“Mom…I don’t see how in the world Ican’t not.”

Five

Penn

I’ve been a mess of nerves, cleaning my place and agonizing about what we’ll talk about. This is why I tend not to date. It’s stressful as shit.

But now, seeing Hearth at my front door is like something straight out of my wildest fucking dreams. She’s wearing jeans and a cute flannel top, eyes shimmering through her clear-framed glasses, long cinnamon hair tumbling from beneath an oversized sunhat.

“Hey, you made it.” I can’t help my stupidly huge smile as I take in the adorable sexiness of her. I reach for the two brown paper grocery bags she’s holding. “C’mon in.”