“You’re awfully quiet today,” my mom says as she drives us home after a long, exhausting day of work.

“I’m just tired,” I lie, not really feeling tired. I’m wired. Wired about the photo. Wired about my date. Wired about so many things that my mind feels like it’s spinning out of control.

She turns into our apartment complex. “Then how about we order in and stream Netflix? That sounds relaxing, right?”

“Actually, I can’t.” I pick at my fingernail, unsure how to approach the matter at hand. “I have plans tonight.”

“Oh?” She steers the car into a parking space. “Is El coming over, or are you going over there?”

I unfasten my seatbelt and reach for the door. “Actually, I’m going out on a date.” Then I dive out of the car and haul ass toward the apartment.

“You have a date!” She chases after me, her sneakers hammering against the concrete. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I rush up the stairway, taking the stairs two at a time. “I did tell you … just barely.”

“This isn’t last minute kind of news. I feel like you should’ve told me sooner.”

“Maybe I just got asked out.” I reach the top of the stairs, out of breath.

Man, I’m out of shape.

She arrives a moment later, equally out of breath. “Did you?”

“Umm …” I hate lying to her. “No …”

She grasps the railing as she wipes sweat from her brow. “So when did you?”

“A few days ago.” I dig the house keys out of my pocket.

She sidesteps, blocking my way as I move toward the door. “Tell me who the mystery guy is,” she demands, but smiles excitedly. “I can’t believe you’re going out on your first date. This is so exciting.”

She may be gushing now, but that’s going to change when I tell her who the mystery guy is. I wonder how much she’d flip out if I told her I was only going on the date because I’m helping Elodie get back at her brother.

“Yeah, it is,” I agree, sounding completely opposite.

She frowns. “Why don’t you seem more happy?”

I shrug, fiddling with the key. “Because I know you’re going to get upset when you hear who I’m going on the date with.”

“I highly doubt that. I’m just happy you are finally going on a date.”

“You might want to wait until you hear who it is before you start making bold statements like that.”

“Well, tell me, then.” She motions for me to get a move on.

I restlessly drag the key up and down my palm as I mumble, “Carter Everlend.”

Her eyes pop wide. “Elodie’s brother?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” I wait for her to lecture me, chew me out. I know she must loathe Carter. Sure, she doesn’t know about our history—what he said to me in third grade and that he’s teased me ever since then—but she works for his family. And I’ve heard Carter say shit about the cleaning people. It was one of the main reasons I decided to play this whole make-Carter-fall-in-love-with-me game to begin with.

My mom falls into a moment of quiet contemplation, and then a small smile touches her lips. “That’s not too bad for your first date.”

I blink at her. “What?”

She smiles as she retrieves her keys from her purse. “Carter seems like a decent guy, at least from what I’ve seen.” She unlocks the door and walks into the apartment, leaving me out on the porch with my jaw hanging to my knees. Then I snap out of my stupor and rush after her.

“Wait? Are we talking about the same person? Carter is Elodie’s brother. You know that, right?”

“I do.” She tosses the keys onto the kitchen counter. “And from what I’ve seen, he seems like a gentleman.” She opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. “He’s always held the door open whenever I’m going into the house. He’s helped me carry in my supplies a bunch of times, too. And unlike his mother and father, he’s never talked down to me.”

All I can do is stare at her in shock. “Are you sure you’re thinking of the right guy?”

She nods, unscrewing the cap off the water bottle. “I’ve been cleaning the Everlend’s place for almost five years now, so unless they have another blond-haired, eighteen-year-old son, I know who Carter is.” She lifts the bottle to her lips to take a drink, then pauses. “Why do you seem so surprised by what I’m telling you? If you’re going on a date with him, you should think he’s a nice guy.”

I cross my fingers I don’t look as guilty as I feel. “I do think he’s a good guy.” God, I suck. “I just didn’t realize he did all that stuff for you.”

And if he did, why did he make that remark about the cleaning lady needing to clean up the oil in the garage. He was so rude then, so none of what my mom is saying makes sense.

“He’s a really sweet guy.” She takes a sip of her water then sets the bottle down on the counter. “So, what are you wearing tonight? And where is he taking you? I want all the details!” She claps her hands together, gushing again.

Me, I’m left feeling lost. Like I’m falling.

Falling into the unknown.

And soon, I’m going to crash.