I walk through the house looking for Aunt Clara, needing to return her book to her and ask her some questions. After searching for what seemed like an eternity, covering nearly every room in the house, I find her on the patio watering some of her plants.

"You do know it's supposed to rain later tonight, right?" I ask her, sliding the back door closed behind me. Her face turns slightly, allowing me to see her frowning at the yellow watering can.

"Well shit," she mutters. "I guess you're going to help me bring in my babies before it rains so they don't drown."

I let out a small laugh, setting my backpack down on a lounge chair. I walk towards her, holding out the book Tristan gave me. "I believe this is yours."

"Where did you get this?" she asks, taking the book from my outstretched hand. "I have been looking for this everywhere!"

"Tristan, the guy that lives next door, gave it to me. He said you left it at the last book club meeting."

"Oh, Helena's son," Aunt Clara says mostly to herself. "You've talked to him?"

"Only a couple of words here and there," I answer honestly. "We wait for the bus together at the end of the street and he's in most of my classes. He actually gave me a ride home today, that's when he asked me to give you back your book."

"I see," my aunt says, trying hard to contain a goofy smile. I can tell because the corners of her eyes are crinkling. "He's very quiet. But quite cute, if I do say so myself."

"Really? I haven't noticed," I say, sitting down next to my bag, fiddling with one of the straps. I refuse to look her in the eye right now. If I did, she would see that I'm lying. I don't really need her to pry a confession out of me about how I've been mutually stalking our gorgeous neighbor, trying to force him into being my teenage challenger. Aunt Clara would think I'm certifiably crazy.

I am though, when it comes to Tristan Johnson.

"Mmhmm," Aunt Clara hums, taking a seat across from me.

"So how long have you been in book club with Mrs. Johnson?" I ask, attempting to sound casual to cover up how eager I am to receive any information I can about Tristan and his family.

"Helena goes by her first name ever since she got divorced," she says. "It was hard to break the habit of calling her by her maiden name since I feel like she could be MY mom. But I digress. I think I've been part of book club ever since she welcomed me and Luke to the neighborhood two years ago. She stopped by with her son to invite us to a dinner party she was hosting."

"Tristan's mom is divorced?" I question. "For how long?"

"Well aren't you just the little gossiper today," Aunt Clara teases. "She was already separated from her husband before we moved in. I heard it was a nasty divorce. Some of the other book club members told me the cops had to get involved one time. A loud domestic dispute, I believe. One of the other neighbors must have called complaining about the noise."

"Wow, that's terrible." Maybe coming from a broken home is the reason Tristan is the way he is. Quiet, brooding, and intimidating.

"Oh, I wouldn't feel bad for her. Helena is doing absolutely great," she assures me. "She's always had her son and a good group of friends to keep her company. She even started going back to work after tired of being a stay at home mom"

"That's good to hear," I say genuinely. "I wonder what it was like for Tristan going through all of that," I attempt to steer the conversation closer towards my target.

"I know what you're trying to do," Aunt Clara says, throwing a small packet of flower seeds that was sitting on the table at me. "I may be oblivious to the weather app on my phone, but I'm smart enough to know when a young girl is trying to find out more about her crush."

"I do not have a crush on him," I sigh. This is going to be exhausting trying to explain to everyone that I don't like him, despite my insane physical attraction to him.

"Who don't you have a crush on?" Uncle Luke asks from the back door. "Leila, I told you that I don't want to be excluded from girl talk!"

"Sorry," I mutter, rolling my head to rest on the back of the chair. There's no way I can get this conversation back on track when I have these two tag teaming me.

Uncle Luke kisses the top of my head before walking to the watering can. "So are either of you going to tell me who we are talking about?" He starts watering the pot of pink flowers closest to him.

"Luke, it's going to rain later tonight," Aunt Clara says. "Put down that can before you kill all of my plants!"

He immediately sets down the watering can, looking embarrassed. Aunt Clara winks at me, letting me know that we won't be telling my uncle about my non-crush on the next door neighbor.

"Sorry, babe," he says, bashfully looking up at the encroaching dark clouds in the sky. "I'll start putting some of the pots inside." He grabs two pots housing flourishing greens and takes them into the house. Aunt Clara gets up to grab a couple more pots to set inside.

"This discussion isn't over," Aunt Clara whispers as she passes me with her armful of plants.

Well, it looks like I'm not going use my family to get any information about Tristan. Not unless I want to be interrogated about why I want to know so much.

I wonder if Tristan has ever asked his mom about me or my aunt and uncle. Is he even curious enough about me to ask? He has to be considering the whole window incident that occurred last week.

Oh my God, why do I want him poking around my life? No one outside of Aunt Clara and Uncle Luke can know the person I was before moving here. Yet it makes me feel a pang of disappointment to think that hypothetical Tristan doesn't want to know anything about me.

What the hell is legitimately wrong with me...