Worth It

His shoulders fell an inch. Then he nodded and gave a very serious murmur. “Good.”



An unexpected thrill raced through me. He’d been worried about me. I loved that, too.



Clearing my throat, I glanced away. “My aunt’s a child psychologist,” I explained.



He nodded and kept watching me but didn’t respond, so I felt compelled to talk more. “I adore her. She’s just...she’s so awesome. And she’s never tried to psychoanalyze me, or whatever, but there have been things she’s said here and there over the years that’s always made me feel better. It’s just like she...gets my predicament, or something.”



“Your predicament?” he started, only for his gaze to clear with understanding. “Oh, you mean the misfit thing?”



My face heated as I glanced away, uncomfortable with this track. “Yeah. I guess.”



But Knox only nodded, no censure or judgment in his gaze. “I take it she’s not a snob like the rest of the Bainbridge clan.” When I sent him a scowl, he shrugged. “What? You still haven’t convinced me to like anyone else in your family, except maybe Aunt...”



“Cynthia,” I provided. “Except she’s not a Bainbridge. She’s my mom’s older sister on the Worthington side.”



“Holy shit,” he squawked, his mouth falling open. “Your mom’s a Worthington? And your dad’s a Bainbridge. Jesus, I don’t stand a chance, do I?”



Heat flooded my belly. I didn’t mean to ask, but my mouth formed the words, anyway. “Stand a chance at what?”



He froze, looking caught, before glancing away and muttering, “Measuring up.”



All the air inside me vacated my lungs in a rush. I was so bamboozled by his answer I just gaped at him for a good minute.



But, seriously...what?



Why would he in any way feel the need to measure up to me? He was the super-hot, super-sweet, super-amazing older boy who took my breath away with a mere glance. I was the one who felt all insignificant, inexperienced, and...cheesy.



But there was this flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he checked on Bentley, swallowing so hard the muscles in his throat seemed to trip over a bundle of nerves.



Needing him to know immediately that he had nothing whatsoever to worry about in that department, I cleared my bone-dry throat. “I think the worth of a person comes more from who you are and less from what you are.”



Knox glanced at me. His brown eyes were hooded and dark before he shook his head. “Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “You’ll do just fine as a child psychologist.”



There was never anything so impossible as trying to pee when someone stepped into the bathroom stall next to yours.



I probably should’ve waited until I got home to do this instead of dashing into the store’s bathroom for immediate answers as soon as I made my purchase. But then I remembered, oh right, going home currently wasn’t an option. Damn.



Biting my lip, I closed my eyes and tipped my face toward the ceiling. Come on. Come on. Niagara Falls. Atlantic Ocean. Rushing streams. Water parks and flooding canals.



Pee already!



The lady next door finished her business and flushed. As the pipes drained, I finally felt a trickle. I rushed to aim the stick under me, hoping I was hitting my target. But this was even more challenging than pissing in a cup at the doctor’s office. Inability to aim pee sucked ass.



Suddenly I resented men even more than I had ten seconds ago.



Lucky bastards.



Lucky cheating bastards who could aim their pee.



Outside my stall, the other woman began to wash her hands. After I finished and flushed, I pulled up my pants and then waited, sitting, refusing to even look down at the test in my hand.



Please be negative, please be negative, I silently begged.



With no idea what I’d do if the result came out with a plus sign on the stick, I hesitantly lowered my face and looked.



“Oh my God,” I wheezed, as the door to the ladies’ room came open again, admitting a new full-bladdered woman. “Oh, thank you, God.”



When I stumbled out of my stall seconds later—possibly looking a might crazy-eyed—the woman was still frozen just inside the doorway, her eyes wide with her purse clutched close.



I blasted her with a smile I couldn’t stop. “Hi! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”



Then I laughed—one of those maniacal, uncontrollable laughs—because up until now, it’d been a pretty shitty, miserable day for me.



The woman blinked and then darted into a stall, probably to escape the insane woman she was trapped in a public bathroom with.