You. “I thought we could hang. Talk. Whatever. Abi’s with her mom for the weekend.”

She folds her arms. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to let you in here.”

“It’s a great idea. This is the kind of stuff friends do. But if you prefer, we can hang out in the corridor.” I grin, but inside, I’m a mess. If friends is all she can give me, then I’ll take it. From Shay, I’d live on the scraps if it meant I didn’t have to let her go. After what she said on Wednesday night about pushing me away for Abi’s sake, I feel lucky that she’ll talk to me at all.

“What if I just close the door?” I can tell she’s trying to keep a straight face, but her lips twitch.

“You know that eighties movie with John Cusack? Where he holds up the stereo outside her window? It’d be like that. But for friendship.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m so sure you’re going to pull a Say Anything to get me to talk to you.”

I give her my best cocky grin. “Test me.”

She stares at me for a long time as if she’s trying to decide if I’m bluffing. Hell, now that she’s doubting me, I kind of hope she makes me do it. I’ll have to go buy a stereo from Target, though. I hope they still sell those. Holding up an iPhone and Bluetooth speaker just doesn’t have the same appeal.

Stepping back, she opens the door wide and waves me in. “Come on, then.”

I step inside and right past her, as if I’ve been here a hundred times before. I keep walking until I’m on the other side of the small living room and reach the kitchen. I plop the pizza box on the counter and open it up. “I got your favorite. Pepperoni and jalapeno, and those cheese-stuffed breadsticks.”

When I turn, she’s on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “No, thanks.”

Well, shit. I probably should’ve asked about her food preferences too. I abandon the pizza and walk toward her. “Can I order you something else, then? Chinese? Thai? Wings?”

“I had oatmeal.”

“For dinner?”

She shrugs and tugs open her fridge. There’s not much in there—some sliced melon, cottage cheese, milk, lettuce, and a variety pack of Jackson Brews beer. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.” I pull a slice of pizza from the box and take a bite. I hate to eat in front of her, but I’m starved.

She grabs an IPA for me, but I notice she doesn’t get one for herself. She pops the lid off for me and hands it over. “That smells so good.” She closes her eyes and groans.