Marney in the Middle

Chapter 8: Old OCDs Die Hard

I glance up at Reese. His greenish grey eyes are locked on the math book, his elbows rested on the table top and face cradled in his hands.

"So," I start before I actually know what to say. Do I keep the lie going or go into new Marney mode and flirt it up? Ugh. How do I flirt with someone who is clearly so miserable around me?

"So," I start again, "Should we pretend to get started?"

"What?" Reese's gaze darts to my face as his brow furrows.

"You know, me tutoring you in math." I hold up the math book. He gives it a disgusted look. Nadda. He has literally no clue what I'm talking about. I sigh and run my fingers along the bottom of my chin. "Reese, this isn't-"

A door near the washer and dryer slams open, causing me to jump and cut my explanation short. A man with brownish red hair wearing a brown plaid button-up shirt that's tucked into the top of his khakis comes into the kitchen with his hands held out in front of him. They're covered in something black and sticky.

"Another leak! I swear I fix one thing on that dang car just so another can break." Still glaring, he looks around the kitchen. His brown-eyed gaze lands on me. "Oh, hello."

"Hi." My voice is small like a squeak. I scoot to the edge of my chair and begin looking through the math book.

"Oh, you're the tutor? The one for Reese?"

I glance up and smile, "Mhm."

"Well, it's nice to meet you." He takes a few steps around Reese to stand beside me and put out his hand, "I'm Hal."

Oh. Of course he's his dad. Who else would have just walked in?

I look at his hand. The one covered in what I'm assuming is oil.

"Oh geeze, what am I thinking. Reese," he juts his thumb behind him toward the sink, "Turn on the water. Give me a second," he directs the latter at me and turns.

Reese slowly gets up. He turns on the faucet for his dad and leans his back against the sink, crossing his arms. He's glaring now, too. And that glare is fixed on me.

Oh sheesh. This is going terribly.

Told you.

"Towel?"

Reese doesn't respond or move. After a second, I push myself off the chair and grab the bleach-stained mint green towel Lois tossed on the counter beside the stove. I tap Hal on the shoulder.

"Huh," he turns around swiftly enough for water to fling off his hands, which are held up before him like before. Some of it lands on my shirt, causing the practically see-through material to actually be see through. My tank-top blares out through the fabric.

"Sorry, sorry." Hal takes the towel and starts to press it against the water-splotched area, which happens to be way too close to my bust than I would prefer. His hands grazes my left breast as I'm standing there in a state of near-shock.

My eyes become wide just as his do. His mouth falls open and he takes a step back, holding the towel up between us.

We're silent.

My dark emerald eyes peak at Reese. A big toothy grin is spread across his face. Good, glad someone thinks this is freaking funny. I look back at Hal, whose mouth is still agape and he's looking from his hands to the water-splotched area and back. Oh gods, could this be any more uncomfortable?

"I, well, that was . . . Here." Hal practically tosses the towel at me. I catch it by a corner. He turns to leave the kitchen and grabs Reese's collar as he goes.