“Look.” I sigh. “I’m not trying—”
“I don’t care about you.” She puts a hand up. “I care about Blake. So stay the heck away from him.”
She gives me an evil grin and then swishes her blond hair in my face as she struts toward the parking lot.
Blake offered to help me…it’s not like I asked him to.
And was that some kind of threat?
I feel a bit threatened right now, I’m not going to lie.
What will she do if I don’t stay away from Blake?
Derek’s truck stops in front of me with the drivers’ window down. “You thinking again, Grayson?”
I try to seem nonchalant, but I’m partially freaking out. “Maybe.”
Is Savannah capable of murder?
Hopefully not…
He smiles as he gets out of the truck. “Ready?”
My eyebrows crease. “For what?”
He scoops me up bridal-style in one swift, easy motion and I drop my crutches as I throw my arms around his neck. “What the—”
“Transporting,” he interrupts, going around the back of his truck, “how else would you get in the truck?”
True. I can’t exactly climb in.
He opens the passenger door and I shriek when it hits my ankle.
“Crap!” he exclaims with a wince. “Britt, I’m sorry…are you okay?”
I barely nod. “I’m fine.”
Ow…big ow.
I’m pretty sure he curses under his breath as he carefully sets me down on the seat, making me wish I hadn’t shrieked and just acted like it didn’t hurt at all instead.
“Thank you,” I say as he starts to close the door.
“I’m sorry about your ankle.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” I smile a little. “It’s okay.”
He looks at me with a thoughtful expression on his face and then closes the door without saying anything.
Okay then.
Cool.
Chapter 30: Yes I Think You’re Hot
——————————————————
“All right,” Derek drawls, starting to drive, “talk.”
“Talk,” I echo as I fidget with my fingers. “You want me to talk…”
Suddenly talking is intimating.
What am I going to say?
“Well, hey—your best friend (or frenemy according to Blake) isn’t a complete jerk and he’s acting weird…causing me to be confused. His new girlfriend hates my guts and insists that whatever Blake and I had is over, but it still feels like he might care about me. But I’m probably just crazy. She also wants to kill me. Liv isn’t telling me something and I’m pretty sure it has to do with you. Which, by the way, why won’t you get a clue and realize that she does in fact—”
“Britt,” Derek interrupts my mental monologue, “this is the part where you talk.”
“Right…” I stall. “Talk.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Am not!” I lie, quick to defend myself.
“And now you’re lying.”
I cross my arms. “What makes you think that?”
Yeah, I know…apparently I’m easy to read, but still.
He glances at me. “Are you suggesting that you aren’t?”
“Well—” I try to rack my brain for a reply. “You’re suggesting that I am.”
That was totally lame.
“Britt, you said you were going to talk.”
“I know.” I uncross my arms. “I just—”
“You what?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Maybe talking wasn’t the best idea.”
Derek sighs. “Britt…”
“No, I’m serious,” I say, looking at him. “I can’t seem to say the right thing.”
I’m making no sense.
“Don’t worry about the ‘right thing,’ just tell me what’s on your mind.”
He doesn’t seriously think I’m going to tell him what’s really going on in my head…right?
“Well?”
Okay, so he does.
“It’s nothing,” I attempt another lie, “I really don’t—”
“Britt.” He stops at a red light and looks at me. “Just say it. Spit it out. There’s obviously something on your mind.”
Come on, Britt.
Say something. Anything.
“I think it’s going to rain!”
Well, it’s something.
“Brittany.” He gives me an unimpressed look. “Come on, what is it?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Forget talking.”
I can’t. I just can’t.
“All right.” He licks his lips as he begins driving again. “We won’t talk.”
And now he’s mad at me.
Perfect.
He could be a little understanding.
I’m under a lot of stress and I’m incredibly confused.
I don’t need him making things harder by insisting that I tell him what’s wrong.
He’s just concerned, Britt. You’re being too defensive.
Derek is always looking out for my best interest after all.
When he saw Owen and me outside together, he was worried about my reputation.
He wanted to make sure that I was okay when I twisted my ankle, so he carried me to the clinic.
He didn’t even complain. Derek never complains.
Besides the fake whining anyway…
He told me I looked beautiful and I barely thanked him; but when Blake told me, not only did I thank him…I even complimented him back.
I haven’t been treating Derek fairly.
That’s obvious. Very obvious.
So? Fix it.
I quickly look over at Derek. “You’re beautiful!”
Yeah, maybe not like that.
His eyebrows crease. “What?”
Ooh, maybe he didn’t hear me.
Let’s hope so.
“Uh…nothing?”
I add a cute little smile at the end for good measure, but it doesn’t do anything for me.
“You said that I’m beautiful?”
Crap. Why did you tell him that, Britt?
Guys don’t like to be told that they’re beautiful.
They like to be told that they’re—
“Hot!” I blurt out. “I meant to say that you’re hot!”
Stupid…
“Did you just—”
“No!” I don’t hesitate in interjecting. “I mean, not that you’re not hot. But I—”
He laughs and I cross my arms. “Derek, stop. It’s not funny!”
“Well,” he drawls, “to me it sounds like you can’t decide if I’m hot or not.”
As if laughing wasn’t bad enough, he had to say that…and laugh while saying that.
“Derek!” I whine. “That’s not what I said!”
“So you’re just in denial then,” he says, not looking away from the road, “is that—”
“No!” I exclaim again in exasperation. “It’s not like that!”
“It’s okay,” he assures me. “I know it’s hard not being attracted to me.”
“I’m—you—no—I,” I sputter without any intelligence. “I mean—there’s—you—I—”
“Britt,” he interrupts me, “relax…it’s normal for you to think I’m hot.”
What the crap? Normal? No.
It is anything but normal.
“Just like it’d be normal for me to think that you’re hot.”
My eyes widen as I look at him. “What?”
He can’t think I’m hot. It’s too weird.
And it just seems wro—
“Don’t sound so surprised, Britt,” he cuts into my thoughts, “lots of guys think you’re hot.”
Of course I’m surprised.
I mean, I know I’m not ugly…but I didn’t see any guys lining up to be my boyfriend when Blake and I broke up.
Not that any of them would’ve really had a chance bec
ause I agreed to be Derek’s—
“Wait,” I say in realization, “you’re fake-dating me because I’m hot!”
“What? No!” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Britt—”
The next thing I know, he’s pulling over to the side of the road and my eyebrows shoot up. “What the heck are you doing?!”
“We need to clear some things up.” He puts the car in “park.” “Okay?”
Still aggravated, I grumble, “Fine.”
He sighs. “Yes I think you’re hot—”
I start to reply but stop when he puts a hand up. “But I’m not fake-dating you because of that, understood?”
“Well you—”
“I’m serious, Britt.” He looks at me intently. “I’m fake-dating you to help you, not because I find you attractive.”
“It’s just weird…” I trail off. “You know?”
He shrugs. “It’s not that weird.”
“Yes it is,” I insist. “It is that weird.”
It’s too weird.
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It could be weirder.”
I don’t even want to think about how that could be possible…
“So…” He taps the side of the steering wheel with a slight smirk. “You think I’m hot, huh?”
I roll my eyes at that. “Shut up, Derek.”
——————
“How’s my Britt-Brat?” Zach teases through the phone.
“Sitting on the couch with her foot propped up,” I mutter, “bored out of her mind.”
“Sounds like just what the doc ordered,” he replies in approval. “You got ice on it?”
“Yes, Doctor Doofus.” I scowl even though he can’t see me. “And it’s flippin’ cold.”
“Good to know, Patient Pain-in-the-Butt,” he retorts. “How’s that boyfriend of yours?”
“Blake’s—”
“Blake?” he cuts in. “I asked about Derek.”
Oops.
“Yeah, Derek.” I force a laugh. “That’s what I meant. I just—I bumped into Blake today at school so, yeah…”
“You okay, Britt?”
“Who me?” I ask, well aware of how cringey I sound. “I’m fine…great, dandy, totally fantast—”
“You sure?” he interrupts. “You sound weird.”
“Well,” I drawl, “maybe it’s your ears that are the problem.”
“Maybe,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Hey, when you lose the crutches I’m gonna come up and we’ll celebrate. Okay?”
I smile some. “Sounds good.”
“Just you and me,” he clarifies, “all right?”
“You and me,” I agree.
“Love ya, squirt.”
“Yeah, I love you too.”
He hangs up and I glance at my propped up, ice-covered ankle.
Cold was an understatement.
It’s freezing.
I can feel the ice through the hand towel.
“Brittany!” Mom exclaims from the front of the house. “You have visitors!”
Visitors? Who the heck would be considered “visitors”?
I hear her tell my mystery visitors that I’m in the back and to go ahead while I’m here dying of curiosity.
But then I’m dying of embarrassment when I see Aiden coming into the room. With Owen.
Owen. What?
I look terrible!
My hair is in this sloppy ponytail and—makeup?
Forget it, I’m not wearing any.
And my clothes! A tank and yoga pants…
No, no, no!
“Aiden…Owen.” I attempt fixing my hair. “What are you doing here?”
I. Can’t. Believe. This.
Aiden shrugs a shoulder. “We were in the area.”
“And decided to come and see you,” Owen further informs me with a smile. “How’s the ankle?”
“Ankle’s fine,” I try to sound casual as they both walk around the couch. “I didn’t know that you guys were going to be stopping by, otherwise I would’ve—”
I shriek when Aiden suddenly sits on my ankle and he jumps up while cursing. “Sorry, Brittany!”
“Way to go, Aid,” Owen tells him as I bite my lip…trying to block out some of the pain. “Are you okay, Britt?”
Ow.
“Uh-huh.” I manage a small smile. “I’m—”
“What? What happened?” Mom asks, rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reply, shaking my head, “just a little accident.”
“Accident?” she echoes with raised eyebrows. “Brittany Jennifer Grayson, you tell me what happened right now.”
Before I can reply, Aiden awkwardly raises his hand. “Mrs. G?”
Mom sighs and looks at him. “Yes, Aiden?”
He scratches the back of his neck. “I might’ve sat on her ankle.”
Owen snorts at that. “Might’ve?”
Aiden glares at him and Mom’s eyes widen. “Her twisted ankle?”
“Yeah.” Aiden winces as he turns his attention back to Mom. “It sounds really bad when you say it like that.”
“For crying out loud…” Mom motions to a chair diagonal from the couch. “Sit there.”
“Actually…” He laughs a little. “I need to use your bathroom.”
“Go ahead,” she replies, sounding slightly exasperated. “You know where it is.”
He mutely leaves the room and Mom looks at me. “Do you need some more ice, hon?”
“No, Mom,” I assure her. “I’m good.”
“All right.” She nods. “I’ll be in the kitchen working on dinner…if you need anything send one of the boys to get me.”
“Will do,” I say as she leaves the room, “love you!”
“Love you too!” she calls back.
“You sure you’re okay?” Owen asks, looking concerned as he sits where Mom told Aiden to sit. “That was a heck of a shriek.”
“Sorry.” I find myself blushing. “I probably didn’t need to shriek that loud.”
“It’s okay,” he verbally waves me off. “It was a cute shriek.”
A cute shriek?
Is that possible?
Who cares?
I blush even more. “Thanks.”
I. Am. So. Pathetic.
He clears his throat some. “So, how’s Derek?”
My shoulders drop slightly. “Derek’s fine.”
Why the heck is he asking about Derek?
I don’t know, maybe because Derek’s supposed to be your boyfriend, duh.
But still.
“Good.” He nods. “I’m glad.”
Yep.
Crap am I tired of being in this position—my legs want to bend, they need to bend.
So I bend them slightly, sighing in the process.
Better…much better. But bending them isn’t enough.
“I want to get up,” I say out loud.
“Uh…” Owen’s eyebrows crease. “Are you supposed to?”
“It’s fine,” I assure him, carefully turning so my feet are touching the ground. “I’ve been lying…sitting, way too long.”
“Okay.” He stands up, looking unsure. “Well, do you—”
“Can you hand me my crutches?” I motion to the evil things. “Please?”
“Yeah,” he says, grabbing them. “Just be careful, okay?”
I slip them under my arms, holding on to the crutches’ handgrips and when I look up…I realize how close we are.
Owen and I—we’re close.
Really close.
Close enough that I can see how pretty his eyes are.
Close enough that I actually swallow.
Close enough that I could…kiss him.
I could. Kiss him.
Kiss Owen. It’s a crazy thought, but I don’t think that I really mind.
His eyes search mine, and it’s pretty clear that he has the same idea.
So, I press my lips against his.
Chapter 31: He’s the one I Want
——————————————————
Can I just say that kissing Owen is amazing?
Like, so amazing?
His arms go around my waist to keep me from falling down because my arms are around his neck and the crutches are long gone…forgotten, as we continue to kiss.
Unfortunately, a phone starts buzzing like crazy.
I try to ignore it…but it won’t stop.
It keeps buzzing.
I reluctantly break away from Owen with a groan. “I think it’s mine.”
“Well, do you want to answer it?”
“No,” I sigh, “but I probably should…and see who it is.”
“Okay,” he says, carefully helping me sit down. “You check and I’ll pick up your crutches.”
Crap, do I feel out of it…probably because of what great kisser he is.
Trying to gather my bearings, I grab my phone off the couch to see that Derek has texted and called me several times.
I freely curse.
How could I forget about him?
Easy, I wanted to forget about him.
“What?” Owen asks as he sets my crutches aside. “What is it?”
“Derek. He wants to know what I’m doing.”
What the heck am I going to tell him?
Owen licks his lips. “I guess lying is out?”
“I don’t want to lie to him.” I shake my head. “I’ll just tell him that I was resting my ankle.”
Since I technically was…
So that’s what I text him back, trying to ignore the guilt gnawing at me.
I look up at Owen and we kind of just stare at each other.
Everything’s just really awkward now.
“Listen.” He runs a hand through his brown hair. “I didn’t mean to cause problems between you guys.”
“No.” I lean back into the couch. “This is my fault…I kissed you, that was wrong.”
It sure as heck felt right though. Yeah.
“So…” he trails off, “are we just going to act like—”
“Dude,” Aiden interrupts him, coming back into the room. “We gotta go…Mike just texted me.”
Mike? Who the heck is Mike?
And what did he text Aiden that they suddenly need to leave?
“All right,” Owen says, nodding before turning to me. “Maybe we can talk later. I’ll give you my number?”
“Sure,” I reply with creased eyebrows. “That’s fine.”
This situation has taken a weird turn of events.
I’m frankly just lost.
My Boyfriend's Best Friend Page 18
