The Distance Between Us(37)

I laugh then quickly suck in my lips to stop myself. “Maybe you could show him our collection, Mom.”

My mom tilts her head at me, obviously confused. She’s going to call me out. She must sense I know Xander. I need to get out of here. I shake the full cup of hot chocolate in my hand, pretending it’s empty. “There’s a trash outside. I’ll just take care of this for you.” I turn back to my mom. “I’m going to be late. I’ll see you after school.”

“Have a great day, honey.”

I leave, flashing Xander a look of wide-eyed innocence. A sadness follows me out of the store, and I can’t decide if it’s because I just lied to my mom again or because I really do want my mom to know Xander. Not just know him but like him.



I’m ten steps from school when a pair of hands grabs my arms from behind, stopping me in my tracks. “You are the biggest brat. You know that, right?” Xander says in my ear. He lets go and I turn around, smiling.

“No, you are. I told you I didn’t want you to meet my mom yet. But you thought you’d do it anyway.”

“Yes, I did. I wanted to show you that all moms like me. And your mom is no exception: she loves me.”

My heart skips a beat. “Really?”

“I didn’t know it was going to cost me a hundred and fifty bucks to prove it but she’s smitten.”

Oh. Of course she loved him. He was a customer. “You bought a doll?” He isn’t holding a bag so I grab the lapels of his open jacket and look inside.

“It’s not on me, woman. I put it in the car.”

“Who did you buy?”

“You don’t honestly expect me to remember.”

“I know you remember.”

“Daphne.”

“You bought a Wailer?”

“Yes, I was feeling a little frustrated in there, and this screaming baby represented my mood very well. I’ll just give her to my grandma next year for her birthday.” He looks down. “You thought I stashed the doll in my coat?”

I realize I’m still holding tight to his jacket. “If your ego fits in there anything is possible.” Just as I’m about to let go, he puts his hands over mine, sandwiching them between his chest and his warm hands.

I’m now staring at the open collar of his name-brand shirt, trying to pretend that he’s not staring at me. Classmates walk by me, rushing to get to class, and I sense them looking at me.

“I thought you were out of town.”

He shrugs a little. “I’m back.”

“I thought we weren’t seeing each other until Saturday.” My voice comes out breathy.

“I couldn’t wait.”

My heart pounds loudly in my ears. “Whatever happened the other night, anyway?”

“With what?” he asks softly. Or maybe I can’t hear him because of the whole heart-pounding thing.

“The hotel crisis of the decade. Did you find a replacement shirt?”

“Yes. One trip down to LA is all it took.”

Right. LA, the place where he saw Sadie Newel. My good mood leaves quickly. “Is that all?”

He nods and I’m about to pull my hands away when he says, “Come to the benefit with me?”

“What?”

“It’s in two weeks. There’ll be dancing, schmoozing, sucking people dry of their money. It’s for my mom’s charity.”

“Another career day?”

“No.”

I meet his eyes. Isn’t that something he should take his girlfriend to? “I have plans that night.”

“Doing what?”

“Avoiding a benefit.” I smile. “I better go. I’m really late.” Why aren’t my feet moving?

“Bye, Caymen.” He lets go of my hands.

I drop mine to my sides but then surprise myself by giving him a hug. He hugs me back, and I linger there longer than I should. Why can’t I just walk away from Xander Spence and not look back? The tardy bell rings behind me.

“I gotta go.” I push away and turn to leave.

“Caymen,” he says, stopping me.

I turn back. “Yeah.”

“The employee who doesn’t know how to use an iron?”

“Yeah.”

“He wasn’t fired. I know that bothered you so I . . . He wasn’t fired.”

Why does this news make me want to cry? “Good. Maybe he should attend the next career day I host where we’ll learn how to properly iron all your T-shirts.”

“I’ll extend the invite.”



That afternoon as I’m sitting behind the register doing homework and my mom is wiping down counters, she chuckles.

“What?” I ask.

“Mrs. Dalton’s grandson.”

“Xander?”

“Yes, Xander. He was funny this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask hopefully. Maybe he really did make a good impression on my mom. Maybe it wouldn’t bother her after all to know we hang out.

“I don’t believe he wanted you to throw away his trash. And then, after you left, he was telling me how much he liked your name and how he had just been to the Cayman Islands last year. He asked how often I went as though everyone in the world goes wherever they want whenever they want.”