Page 103 of Don't Be in Love

I sifted through mail: letters from Mia’s siblings, shiny Christmas cards from Sabrina’s extended family, retail coupons for me, junk mail.

“Can I make you some tea?” I asked.

“That is what I came for.”

This may have been a mistake. “Earl gray, English breakfast, peppermint or green tea?”

“English breakfast. With honey. Please.”

I set two small plates on the table and then filled the kettle with water, switching on the stove.

“Your roommates not here with you?” She gave a quick glance around the kitchen. The pearls on her ears danced back and forth.

“They’re both with family,” I said, dropping the mail on the table and sitting across from her.

“Do you dislike being around family?” she guessed.

“Something like that.” I placed one of the cookies on my plate. “Thank you for these.”

She waved her hand. “I’m surprised you’re not with the boy. The pretty one.”

“Oh, we’re not really dating or anything.”

Her brows rose. “Never said you were. Friends celebrate holidays together all the time. I just asked since I saw him drop you off last night.”

“Oh, well, we’re not close enough to be spending holidays together.”

“I wasn’t trying to make assumptions.” She held her hands up, almond acrylic red nails pointed toward the ceiling. “But I tend to have a good read on men.”

“Oh, do you date a lot?”

“Not men.” She shook her head in distaste.Can’t blame her. “But I know men.” She pointed at me. “So what’s wrong with him?”

“What?”

“The boy that walks you home every night. What’s wrong with him if you’re avoiding him? Because by the look on his face last night, he would’ve spent the whole month with you if you asked.”

“I—” had no idea what she meant by that and I was slightly concerned by how much she watched us from her window. “No, nothing’s wrong with him. He can be argumentative and frustrating—all the time actually. But he’s also considerate and kind and witty.”

“Ah, I see.”

“See what?” I leaned forward as if she had some insight into my future.

“You love him.”

The kettle shrieked behind me.

“I—what?” This was like the Sabrina conversation all over again.

“The water.” She gestured to the pot.

Dumbfounded, I tended to the kettle, pouring the hot water into two mugs before dropping the tea bags and honey in.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” I handed her the mug.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she responded sarcastically, accepting it and blowing a flow of steam toward me.

I mimicked the motion before asking, “Do you dislike being around family too?”