Page 52 of Present Tense

“Liam Fletcher. That’s a really dumb name.”

“I’m aware. Your point?”

“I can’t call you that,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then call me Fletch.”

“Fletch.” He nods and sits back in his seat. He’s taking in every inch of me. I’ve clearly not showered and slept here. I don’t know what she wants me to do, but I won’t lie. I also don’t know why the fuck he’s home. Why the hell didn’t Jillien tell me?

“Fletch, I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?”

I cross my arms and think about how to answer this.

“Here’s the deal. For every question I answer, you answer one.” He mirrors me, cocking his head. He shuffles his Chucks under the table, and I pick a piece of imaginary lint off my arm. I look back at him and purse my lips waiting for his answer. It’s a bit of a standoff.

“Deal. Why are you here?”

“Your mother invited me.” He nods and takes in the noninformation I’ve just given him. “Same question.”

“I live here,” he spits out. And he’s still mirroring me. I respect it.

“Fair enough. Your mother invited me to come to Chicago from Philadelphia for New Year’s Eve. Friends of hers are throwing a party and I said I’d go with her.”

“Meg and Jake’s party. Yeah. I know about that. Fine. I came home because my father’s an asshole. And I won’t change my language. He’s an asshole.”

My heart goes out to the kid. I don’t know the entire situation, but I know enough that he put himself on a plane to come home. To get away from his father. Then he finds me here instead of his mother.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time in California.” His face lifts to mine. He’s been staring at his shoes.

“You knew where I was?”

“Your mother shared a little of what you were going through. I’m sorry if that makes this all awkward.”

He leans his chair back and runs his hand through his hair. “I mean. Like, yeah. Is that your Gucci house she was staying in?”

I grin as he references my house being Gucci. I guess it would look like it in pictures. “Yes.”

His voice is raised. He has a look of disgust for me. Given his reaction to his father’s girlfriend, I can’t imagine I’m a welcome sight. “I knew she wasn’t telling me the whole thing. She didn’t tell me there was a you. She said she was staying with an old friend.”

I unfold my arms and sit back in the chair. I want him to relax a bit. “She didn’t lie. We are old friends. We grew up together. Our dads worked together.”

“You know my busted grandfather?”

Again, my heart hurts for this kid. “He wasn’t always this busted. Have a touch of respect.”

“Are you fucking telling me what to do?” He stands up. He’s smarter than this.

“Don’t be a cliché, kid. Hate me after you get to know me. Don’t hate the idea of me. And if you want any stories about your granddad or your mom from way back, let me know.”

He nods. Then nods again. Then he circles the chair. I sip my coffee. He glares at me. Then he says, “Cool. Cool. How long are you staying here?”

“Nope. My turn. Does your mother know you’re home?”

He blows out a long breath and doesn’t need to answer.

“She needs to know. Better yet, does your father know you left?”

“My turn, there, stranger danger.”