TMI

by Patty Blount

  But he never told her. Meg dug her nails into her palms.

  “Oh, Chase, this is so good,” Bailey gushed. “Don’t you want to see it, Meg?”

  “No.”

  Bailey opened her mouth to push the issue and then paled at something over Meg’s shoulder. Meg spun, saw Simon stroll by, his arm slung over Caitlyn’s shoulders. He spotted Bailey, tensed, but then turned away.

  “Come on, Bay. Let’s leave.” Meg put her arm around Bailey.

  The train ride home was tense and quiet. Meg stared out the window at the neighborhoods blurring past, wishing she had the colored pencils and the pad in her hands. Bailey texted on her cell and Chase sat opposite her, one leg propped on Meg’s seat, his eyes shut.

  He looked so different with his eyes closed.

  Flat.

  Impassive.

  Ordinary.

  Those motley eyes of his opened, caught her checking him out, and suddenly, it was like God breathed life onto the canvas. Meg flushed hotly and turned back to the window.

  Chase chuckled once.

  Bailey texted.

  The scenery blurred.

  A few hours later, Meg dumped the conference swag on her bed and collapsed next to it, feet screaming. Her eyelids slipped closed, and just when she was about to surrender to a much-needed nap, Meg remembered Chase’s sketch pad. She stared at it for a moment. Oh, hell. She flipped it open to her angry rendering and gasped.

  Chase had reshaped the faceless blob she’d carelessly scribbled for herself. He’d added in defiantly crossed arms under an overly generous chest that made her snicker. He’d drawn the mousy brown hair that fell in front of serious eyes. But he’d angled the eyes so that they stared up at his from under spiky lashes.

  To the image she’d sketched of him, he’d reshaped the face so that instead of the grimace she’d drawn, he now smiled warmly at the blob that used to be Meg, one arm extended, as if in invitation.

  He’d drawn them.

  Meg ripped the page out of the notebook with every intention of crumbling it into a little ball she could pitch into the wastebasket. Instead, she carefully folded it and tucked it under her pillow with a rueful laugh. Look at me, wishing for impossible things.

  Foolish and futile.

  Chapter 16

  Bailey

  Bailey dumped bags of conference swag all over her bed and wondered where Chase had found that comic panel pad. That would have been cool to buy. She could have used it for game design. Speaking of Chase, she twirled a curl and thought about the way he and Meg had acted today. Meg was mad. No, that’s not right. She was off-center. She’d been hyperaware of Chase, her eyes tracking him throughout the venue. Bailey doubted Meg was even aware of that. Something was different—it was like their connection had gotten stronger somehow. When had that happened? She should have paid closer attention, but she’d been so caught up with Ryder and keeping him a secret that she’d neglected Meg.

  Bailey hoped that hugging Chase at McDonald’s that night was what—finally—opened Meg’s eyes. She rubbed her hands together. Now all she had to do was get Meg to admit her feelings for Chase.

  It wouldn’t be easy. Bailey laughed, amused by her understatement.

  She paused in her swag-sorting and then grabbed her phone when inspiration struck. She didn’t even bother to text. She just called Chase.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  She had to play this just right. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “Oh, no sweat. I had fun—”

  “No, not I-CON. I wanted to thank you for taking care of Meg and for baking that incredible cake.”

  Chase’s voice got a little deeper. “She was pretty upset with you.”

  There it was. “I know. I’m glad you were there for her when she needed you. So…thanks.”

  “I didn’t do it for you.”

  Bailey didn’t doubt that for a second. “I know. I got a little dazed. It’s hard not to,” she admitted.

  Chase groaned. “Okay, spare me the details. Just, you know, don’t leave her out, okay? She worries about you and that really bugs her.”

  Oh, does it? Bailey grinned and did her best to sound solemn. “I promise.”

  She ended the call, tossed the phone to her bed, and paced, wondering just how many ways there were to make Meg mad enough at her that she’d turn to Chase for comfort. It had worked once and it could work again, especially now that the door had been opened. All she needed was a way—

  She froze when an excellent idea hit her. Oh, this would seriously fry Meg’s bacon. Could she be this devious? Bailey picked up her phone and texted Ryder.

  Bailey: Hi!

  Ryder: So how did u like I-CON?

  Bailey: Awesome! Met the Zelda team.

  Ryder: NO WAY!

  Bailey: Hand to God! Got autographs, got some samples. It was cool. Wish you could have come with us.

  Ryder: Yeah, me 2. Woulda been perfect 1st date.

  Bailey pressed both hands to her mouth. First date? Oh, God, could he be any cuter?

  Bailey: Why perfect?

  Ryder: ’cuz u luv gaming

  Bailey: Yeah, but what about you?

  Ryder: 1st dates R 4 impressing the girl

  Bailey: LOL. Tell that to my 10th grade BF. He rented a movie.

  Ryder: Lame!

  Bailey frowned. It wasn’t lame, not really. Andrew, the tenth-grade love of her life, heard her say how much she’d wanted to see that movie about the guy who travels in time, so he’d rented it and invited her over.

  Bailey: No, it was pretty great. Until it wasn’t. Just like last BF.

  Ryder: Wasn’t?

  Bailey: Yeah, stopped being great. Stopped trying to impress me. Stopped caring.

  Ryder: Then he’s a loser

  Bailey: No, he’s really not. Things just didn’t work out.

  Ryder: U miss him

  Bailey: No, I’m over it.

  Ryder: I won’t stop trying 2 impress u

  Bailey: You know what would impress me? Meeting you IRL.

  Ryder: I know. I’m trying. Meg still pissed at you?

  Bailey: She doesn’t trust you, but she’s trying.

  Ryder: I swear, I’m a good guy. Want me to tell her?

  Bailey: You’d do that?

  Ryder: I’d do anything for u :)

  Bailey: Yes! Xoxo

  Ryder: Txt her nmbr. Xoxo back :)

  Bailey sent Ryder Meg’s number and wondered how long it would take Meg to erupt all over Chase. Maybe she should give Chase a heads-up. She bit her nail, weighing the options, and finally decided not to get his hopes up in case Meg didn’t vent on him. She happily turned her attention to sorting through the rest of her conference swag, reliving the day. It was perfect—except for seeing Simon and Caitlyn. And why was Caitlyn even there? It was so pathetically obvious that she didn’t know anything about gaming, but there she was, hanging off Simon’s arm like a cheap accessory. She pulled in a deep breath, forced herself to stop thinking about them. She’d gotten all this free stuff like autographs and had even met the Zelda developers—who cared about Simon? She thought about the tall blond guy she’d met in the autograph line.

  He was there with his dad.

  The dad was outrageously excited to be there. He knew every game and character name. The guy wasn’t that excited—she could tell—but he was there, hanging out and busting his dad’s chops. A sad little smile formed on her lips. Would her father have gone to I-CON with her? He would have, she believed. He would have geeked out and tugged her from booth to booth, introducing her to people he knew because he was a bigger gamer than she was. She’d have inherited her mad skills from him. She was sure of it.

  The computer beckoned her. She logged on to the classmates website where she’d registered as her mother and checked fo
r notifications. A few messages awaited—long-lost pals looking to reconnect, a plea for donations from the alumni group, and a form letter welcoming her to the site. She’d hoped that the guys her mother had let go might see her name, reach out, and say hi.

  That would be a good starting point to locate her dad.

  At the sound of her bedroom door opening, Bailey spun in her chair, barely managing to hide the window and look nonchalant.

  “Mom, hey. Um, you look nice.”

  Nicole frowned at a sheet of paper in her hands. “Bailey, what’s this?” She thrust the paper under Bailey’s face.

  Crap. It was this month’s credit card statement. She hadn’t expected the fee for the classmates website to show up so quickly. But there it was. “Oh, that’s nothing. I just wanted to stay in touch with some of the seniors leaving this year. You know, like Chase?” She twirled a lock of hair and smiled.

  Nicole folded her arms and angled her head. “Try again.”

  “Mom—”

  “Bailey, I got calls this week from two different people I haven’t thought of in seventeen years and both mentioned how happy they were to find me after all this time.”

  Bailey scrunched up her shoulders. “Oh.”

  “That’s it? ‘Oh’? Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

  Fine. She would do just that. She forced her shoulders to relax and dove in. “Okay. I’m looking for my father.”

  Nicole’s lips thinned and she sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re what?”

  “I want to find my dad.”

  “You can’t. I forbid it.” Nicole took two steps away and turned her back.

  Bailey rolled her eyes. “Mom, I’m not four years old anymore. I want to find my father, get to know him.”

  “What for? You’re already too much like him.”

  Bailey’s mind went blank. It was just for a second. One brief second of numbness before her mother’s comment slashed at her heart and she gasped at the shock of pain. “I bet you hate that, don’t you? That’s why you won’t tell me anything about him. Because you’re punishing both of us!”

  Nicole spun around. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  That was the reason. It had to be. “Then why won’t you tell me who he is?”

  “God, Bailey, it’s not that simple.” Nicole moved to her bed, sat down, stared at her hands. “I didn’t want him to hurt you the way he hurt me.”

  “Hurt you? Like hit you?”

  Nicole put up a hand. “No. No, it wasn’t like that.”

  Her mother hiked up the skirt on her designer suit and tucked her legs beneath her on the bed. It made Bailey’s breath hitch. She looked like a little girl. A sad, brokenhearted little girl.

  With a jolt, she remembered Nicole wasn’t all that much older than she was.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…need to know.”

  Nicole said nothing for a moment. “Okay,” she said finally, holding up her hands only to let them fall back to her lap. “We met when I was fourteen. He was older. He wasn’t like any of the boys in my school. He was…fun. Nothing ever bothered him, ever made him stop smiling.” Nicole raised her head, managed a brief smile. “Just like you. I loved that about him.” She stood, walked back to the window, and stared down at the street. “I did. I really loved him, Bailey. I loved him with every atom in my body. But he never took anything seriously. Everything was a game! School. Work. Life. Just one big party. Even when I told him I was pregnant, he laughed.”

  Bailey listened. But honestly, she wasn’t seeing the problem here. Her dad sounded great.

  “I knew I’d never be able to count on him for anything more than just fun. I was sixteen years old and pregnant, and I needed more than that. I needed to know he’d be there for us, that he’d support us.” Nicole turned back and shrugged. “He wasn’t.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He left town. I never saw him again.”

  No. Damn it, no. Bailey’s eyes filled. “That was years ago! Maybe he grew up and changed, you know? Matured. What does it hurt to just—”

  “No!” Nicole’s sharp retort had Bailey backing up a step. “I made my decision. If he wanted to find me, he could have…easily! I’m exactly where he left me.” Nicole stopped and took a deep breath when Bailey’s lip trembled. “Bailey, I’m sorry. I can’t. If you’re determined to know him, I guess you’re right. I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to help you either.”

  Nicole spun, left the bedroom, and closed the door with a soft click behind her. Bailey waited until she heard mom shut the door to her room and let the tears take her.

  Chapter 17

  Meg

  As the evening slowly ticked down, Meg wondered what to do with herself. Her mother had already been home and left for her second job waiting tables. She nuked a frozen meal for dinner and threw a few hours into studying that wasn’t so bad because she had leftover cake. Around 9:30, she grabbed a paintbrush. She clipped a piece of Bristol paper to her easel. Its smooth surface was great for testing colors. She got out some acrylics and starting layering colors—olive green, khaki, mustard, golden rod, chocolate, moss, ochre, and ivory. Meg mixed and blended and scraped but still couldn’t get the eyes right.

  Thank God Chase never asked about the easel. She’d have cracked like dried-out paint and never been able to face him again. If he’d noticed, he pretended he hadn’t. She thought of his hands on her shoulder and her hip, and her eyes slipped shut. She relived his lips, his tongue on hers, and sighed at the way her body reacted to just the thought of his hands on her. If he’d pressed her for more, she wasn’t sure she’d have said no. When the stab of pain came, as it always did, she carefully draped a cover over the easel and started cleaning brushes.

  That’s when her cell buzzed.

  Meg glanced at the screen, but it was a text message from a number that wasn’t in her contacts list.

  Ryder: Hey. I hear u been asking a lot of questions about me.

  Meg frowned at the screen and quickly typed a reply.

  Meg: Here’s a question. Who is this?

  The phone pinged with a reply.

  Ryder: Sorry. My name’s Ryder. Ryder West. I’m Bailey’s friend.

  Her eyes narrowed. Bailey’s friend? She’d be pretty pissed to find out he was just a friend and not a boyfriend. Meg texted back.

  Meg: Well, Ryder West, I’m Bailey’s friend, and you’re right. I do have questions about you.

  Ryder: Fine. Ask.

  Oh, she planned to.

  Meg: How did you meet?

  They hadn’t met, not officially, as far as Meg knew.

  Ryder: We both like Xbox games.

  Meg knew that much.

  Meg: So you played a few games and thought you’d pick up the other player?

  Ryder: U know it’s not like that. Stop wasting time and get to the point.

  Meg shook her head in disgust. Ryder wasn’t quite the gentleman Bailey thought.

  Meg: Fine. What’s your deal?

  Ryder: No deal. Just like hanging out with her.

  Oh, she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

  Meg: So what are you texting me for?

  Ryder: I just wanted to show u I’m not jerking Bailey around. Can u ease up on her? I don’t like hearing her so upset.

  Upset? Bailey was upset? This was news.

  Meg: Why is she upset?

  Ryder: Testing me again? Fine. She told me UR mad at her because she forgot about plans she made with u.

  Meg wished she could believe that. The truth stung a bit, and she tapped out a reply.

  Meg: She didn’t forget. She just wants to talk to you more than me.

  Oh, God, could she be any more pathetic?

  Ryder: I feel the same way ab
out her. If u were really her friend, u wld be happy 4 her.

  Oh, hell no. Meg stabbed at the buttons with extra fury.

  Meg: I really am her friend, and that’s why I’m making sure you’re really who she thinks, so why don’t you prove to me you’re not some 50 year old pervert getting off by the sound of her voice?

  Ryder: UR really sick. Why can’t u just be happy for us?

  Meg rolled her eyes. He’s the creep hiding behind a keyboard and she’s the sick one?

  Meg: Is English not your first language? I’m not backing off until I know you’re for real.

  Meg waited, but no further texts arrived.

  Chapter 18

  Bailey

  Bailey stared at her phone, willing it to buzz or vibrate or do something other than look cute in its glitter skin. She’d given Ryder Meg’s phone number ages ago and neither one of them had contacted her. What were they talking about all this time? She nibbled a fingernail and obsessed. Meg was probably doing her TV lawyer routine, citing all the statistics and facts and reasons why Ryder was a liar and Bailey was a ditz for trusting him. Ryder was probably being his usual adorable self and doing his best to calm Meg down.

  Unless—what if Meg was right and Ryder really was a guy in jail for murdering some poor teenager he’d met in person and then hiding her body in a creepy corn field? What if Meg totally scared Ryder away and she never heard from him again? She’d never know what he was really like…or what he looked like. She didn’t even know where he lived.

  She stared at her computer screen and opened the last email he’d sent. It held a link to a new game engine he’d mentioned—one that was geared toward newbies like herself and much easier to use than the one Chase had told her about. She clicked the link and did her best to concentrate on roughing-in the game’s bones instead of on what Ryder and Meg were talking about.

  Meg must have been furious with her all over again. It was the only explanation Bailey had to explain her silence. With luck, Meg was even now turning to Chase for comfort. This was a lot harder than she’d expected. What if Meg hated her for doing this? Could she live with that? What if even after all this scheming, Meg and Chase still didn’t hook up?