Phil’s POV
“You were at his house again.”
I just held the phone to my ear, stomach in knots, staring down at my shoes. I kept scuffing them as I walked home, feeling my anxiety tug at me relentlessly. “Mami, I just—”
“Why did he come over yesterday?” she asked. “What was he up to?”
Up to. Like Theo is always up to something. Rotten. Bad. A corruptor. Chewing on my lip, I thought about how bad this must look to her, especially after all the jabs I’d made at him in the past about girls. Always having girlfriends. Smelling of weed. God, I’d pretty much set myself up for failure in regards to . . . trying to . . . you know, date him. Be with him.
Mom won’t . . . how could she possibly agree to it?
To us.
“He wasn’t up to anything,” I mumbled, rakin
