Then we just stare at each other—me gripping the door so hard that my knuckles turn white and her hugging her duffel bag against herself like a shield. Because me being a surly dickhead all the time is probably not super reassuring. But the truth is, I don’t know how to act around her. I fear if I soften up even a smidge, I’ll cross a boundary I shouldn’t. Take something that isn’t mine.
