Any one of those things could have had excuses, the world was ending, it was hard to find time to get hair gel on or find a store that sold good clothes, if you even cared about that stuff. Still… blah. He gave her a sidelong glance he seemed to think she wouldn’t notice, then fixed the fringe of hair at the edge of his forehead with a brush of his fingers.

In her classes, she’d started to notice the divide between the kids who hadn’t moved on from grade school and the ones who had. Boys were especially prone to it. She really hated to admit that the more boy-crazy girls were right about anything, but when they directed ninety percent of their interest at older boys… she could sympathize.

Getting stuck with an immature kid was the worst… and now Presley was walking into the big room where there was barely any room to walk for all the piles of luggage and makeshift beds, and the dopey kid was following her.

“How are you doing?” she asked. “It’s kind of scary.”

He shrugged, his expression giving away nothing.

“Do you know where your spot is? I’ve been here for a few hours, so if you need directions…?”

Maybe he’d take the hint and go away.

“Our stuff’s in the lobby,” he said. “I guess I’ll get it later.”

“Oh,” she said.

He kept following her.

“Why’d you tell me to come with?” he asked.

“My mom and dad were giving me the evil eye and pointing at you. I think your mom needs a moment,” she said. She gave him an apologetic look, both because she was preemptively shooting down any interest he might have, and because it had to be awkward.

“She’s such a loser,” he replied.

Presley wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“She hasn’t had a job since Gold Morning. She freaks out a lot. It sucks, having to be the one with his shit together.”

Mom isn’t going to give me any credit for having to put up with this guy.

Presley wanted to tell him to go on, or find an excuse, but she’d already reached the spots her family had reserved and laid claim to. She unconsciously put a hand on the back of a chair she’d used to set up the border of the space, and Caden immediately sat himself down in another chair, belonging to another family that wasn’t present.

Was it better to ignore him? She turned to her setup. Her bed was layered, with a towel on the floor, clothes laid out as evenly as she’d been able to manage as a middle layer, another towel, and then a sheet on top. Her pillow, she was lucky, was an actual pillow. She’d carried it under her arm the entire way here. Her parents had clothes stuffed into pillowcases.