Page 76 of You Again

“I promise.”

“It’s just…” Her arm around me tightens. “It wasn’t this simple the first time around.”

“So you’ve mentioned. Well, this time around, I had separation, preparation, and…” I stare at the ceiling, attempting to make out the grooves in the dim light. “Soul kissing Zev to help me out.”

“And me!” she barks, her arm now attempting to squeeze my guts out.

“Of course, you. Always you.”

Thirty-Three

ONE YEAR BEFORE THE ACCIDENT

“It’s one weekend,” Zev says, but I’m not looking at him. I’m walking around my classroom, mindlessly shifting things that don’t need shifting. My pulse thrums in my wrist, and it’ll only get worse if I look at him.

“Yes, and I would be in the way⁠—”

“Rosalie.” My name is a growl on his lips. “You would not be in the way. I want you there.”

“With your mother?” I groan, then tear my eyes away from my nonsensical busyness to give the sweetest man I know one sympathetic glance.

“You’ve never met her.”

And I was sort of never planning on meeting her. Zev and I have been officially dating for months. It’s going great… why do we have to mess it up by involving more people? “It’s too soon.”

“It’s not,” he says, following me. I pick up a stack of math papers that are perfectly fine in their “turn-in” cubby and walk them over to my desk.

“I have school⁠—”

“You have a three-day weekend. And my weekends off are about to come to an abrupt end.”

I lick my lips and try to be brave, which involves looking at the man who has completely stolen my heart. “State testing is coming.”

“And you’re prepared. I’m pretty sure no second graders will be at my mom’s house this weekend. You won’t have work to do.”

“You don’t know that.” I frown, just to get my point across.

“I do. So do you.”

“Zev, teachers work on the weekends.”

“Gah!” Patient Zev throws up his hands. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Why don’t you understand that I have to work?” I squeeze my hands to my hips and glare.

“Why are you always using work as an excuse?”

I scoff but stand my ground. “I’m not. You’re the busy one. You’re the one always working⁠—”

“Except for this weekend,” he says, his irritable tone dying out. “Rosalie, come home with me. Please.”

My groaning sigh is loud and a little obnoxious and cannot be helped. “Why is this so important?”

Zevulun’s beautiful face goes red—as red as the hair on his head. I swivel back to the stack of books on my desk and start to pointlessly alphabetize them.

“Because I’d like to introduce my mother to the woman I’m in love with!” He practically yells the words at me. As if he didn’t just use that “L” word so casually. While fighting with me!

I turn on my heels, facing him. “Did you just say⁠—”