More Than Each Other (More Than Best Friends Book 2)

by Sally Henson

  My sentiments, exactly.

  The bell rings, and Mr. Kellen lists the experiment steps and goes through them.

  “Any questions?” His eyes scour the class. No one raises their hand. “Okay. Get started. Stacey, Alyssa, switch seats please. You have new lab partners.”

  Stacey sits behind me and drops her verbal bomb in my ear. “You better not try to screw me over on this, Regan.”

  I couldn’t screw her over because that would mean screwing myself over on this grade, and I’m not about to do that.

  I stuff my hair into the back of my shirt and put my goggles and apron on.

  “Ugh, I hate putting these goggles on.” Stacey whines. “They mess up my hair. Why can’t we use those safety glasses that hook over your ears? This band always pulls my hair, too.”

  I roll my eyes and grab the beaker. “I’m going to measure out our liquid. Why don’t you take the weighing paper and get the solids?”

  Stacey huffs, “Fine.”

  When I get back, she’s screwing around with the hose on the Bunsen burner. “You have everything?” I ask, looking back to the board to check the steps. We’re basically doing two different experiments.

  Stacey utters a “pssh,” but otherwise ignores me. I swivel back to the lab table, and she’s about to dump the powder into one of the beakers.

  I move my hand to cover the opening. “What are you doing?”

  Her nose scrunches into a snarl. “What does it look like I’m doing? Adding the granules.”

  I growl back at her. “That’s not the granules. You can’t add things out of order. It’ll have the wrong chemical reaction.”

  She drops the snarl and looks at our setup and then to the board, skimming the directions. Her hunchback, grizzly-attack shoulders drop back into place. “Oh.” She scoots back on the stool. “I thought you were done with that part.”

  I scowl, but don’t look at her. How can she be one of Mr. Kellen’s best students? She’s terrible in lab. Her old partner always grumbled about Stacey messing them up.

  “Why don’t you make sure the Bunsen is connected?” I suggest

  I take the graduated cylinder and measure the amount of distilled water and pour it into the flask. Stacey keeps clicking the striker, and it’s getting on my nerves. That’s not saying much, though, because she’s constantly on my nerves.

  I take a look around to see how far ahead everyone else is. There are only a couple people heating their flasks. We’re not too far behind.

  “Okay,”—I slide the flask between us—“add the sodium chloride.”

  She pours the solid in, and I swirl the flask until it’s dissolved before fastening it to the stand.

  I rise from the stool and call over my shoulder as I move toward my desk, “I need to get my notebook.”

  When I turn back to our lab table, Stacey’s messing with the striker again and ignites a cloud of gas that makes a “woof” of combustion. She jumps back. Stacey’s eyes are as big and round as the beakers in front of her. Mr. Kellen was checking each lab station and runs to our table.

  I’m frozen in place, watching it all go down in front of me. Some of the girls let out screeches of horror, and the guys are laughing. I think I’m somewhere in between. Kellen turned off the gas and is checking Stacey out. The hum of students talking is overtaking the room.

  Mr. Kellen shouts, “Enough! Quietly finish your experiment and take your seat.”

  My legs start working again, and I march to the lab table. “Are you okay, Stacey?” Her skin and clothes seem okay, but the stench of burnt hair hangs around us.

  “I’m fine,” she utters with her eyes bulging in shock of what just happened.

  “Regan,” Mr. Kellen turns his narrowed eyes to me. “Clean up your table and then take your seat. See me after class. Stacey, follow me.”

  I step back and allow them both to move passed me.

  After class, I make my way to Mr. Kellen’s desk.

  He rubs his hand back and forth on his forehead, and then motions to the desk in front of his. “Sit down.”

  My stomach knots with every step. I slide in the seat and focus on the black top of his desk.

  “What happened?”

  I run through everything I could remember from the time lab started.

  “That’s not how Miss Faniger remembers it.”

  A few students for the next class come in. I lean forward. “I don’t know what she said, but that’s what happened. I promise.”

  He sighs, picks up his pen, and grabs his note pad, scribbling. “I’ll write you an excuse for your next class.”

  I stand and make my way around the desk.

  “This silly, schoolgirl behavior could have cost someone’s life.”

  “Mr. Kellen, science is my thing. Chemistry is a major part of my future in marine science. I take it seriously.”

  He tears off the paper and hands it to me with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “A small town, land locked girl wants to be a marine scientist?”

  I nod, as small smile spreads across my lips. “I do.”

  He stares at me for a minute. “You both get a zero for lab today. Learn to work together.”

  I take the note and storm out of class. A zero? It wasn’t even my fault.

  21

  Regan

  I pass go and speed walk straight to my room to hide out. As soon as my door’s closed, I lean against it and think about the G5, wishing I could go to the party tomorrow. Lane will be there, and I haven’t talked to him since last Friday. This whole thing is not fair. I flop on my bed and pull the iPod out. My pillowcase is an excellent hiding place where my dad can’t see it and decide to confiscate it because, obviously, I’m not grounded enough. What music am I in the mood for?

  Barlow Girls…too upbeat for my mood right now.

  Toby Mac…nope.

  Twenty-One Pilots…maybe.

  SuperChick…may not be enough of a distraction. What books do I have left?

  “Regan?” Dad calls me with a knock at the door.

  Now what? Can’t he just leave me alone? I didn’t think I existed to them anymore. They haven’t spoken to me. I jerk the earbuds out, stuff everything under my pillow, and spring up. “Yeah?”

  “Are you dressed?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”

  He turns the knob, opens the door, and gestures down the hallway, with his head, barely looking at me. “Come on out. We’re going to Dan’s to discuss this problem with you and Lane.”

  Lane and I aren’t the problem. You are. “Me too?” I ask.

  “Yes. Get your shoes on.” He leaves my doorway and I watch him until he disappears down the hallway.

  Oh, my gosh! Maybe I get to see Lane too. I leap off my bed, run to the bathroom to pull my hair into a ponytail, gargle some mouthwash, and rush back to my room for my coat.

  A ton of questions race through my brain, but I need to keep my emotions to myself. I so want to squeal like a girl right now. That’s all I need—to jinx myself. This discussion may not be a good thing.

  As we drive to the Cary’s, Mom and Dad chatter about Dad’s work as if my life isn’t turned upside down and falling apart. I chant my wish over and over in my head. Please let Lane be there. Please let this work out.

  We near their driveway, and I squeeze my eyes closed. The car slows and turns. My heart vibrates in my chest. Slowly, I creak my eyelids open and look from side to side. Lane’s old white truck is parked in its usual spot, and a whoosh of relief leaves my lungs.

  I want to sprint to the house and fling the Cary’s’ door open, hugging Lane so tight no one could pull us apart. Instead, I reserve myself, ambling behind my parents. Every window in sight is covered with blinds, and there’s no chance of me catching a glimpse of him.

  The door opens before Dad even knocks. Mr. Cary welcomes my parents as if it’s any other day—as if my parents don’t think falling for my best friend is a problem. In the background, behind the make-believe gam
e going on in the doorway, is that boy—my kissable best friend.

  Our eyes connect, and I stand a little taller.

  22

  Lane

  Dad told me to let him handle the conversation with Regan’s parents and not to react to anything. Little does he know I’ve already handled it. The phone call I made to Mr. Stone Tuesday night settled the issue and this little “meeting” is just for show.

  It was hard not to spill my guts, to tell Dad Mr. Stone was holding Regan hostage until I agreed to change her mind about marine science. But I didn’t say a word because I’m freaking weak and need her in my life.

  Dad would be so ticked at Mr. Stone for using me to manipulate his daughter. They’ve been best friends for a long time, and I don’t want to be the reason to end that. It would make things worse for all of us. Besides, I think I’ve figured out how to handle this thing with her dad. It’s all going to work out.

  The door swings open, and my eyes lock on Regan. While the parents are greeting each other, I step around them and whisper in her ear, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  She nods, but her expression says she doesn’t believe it will.

  I rush out, “You smell so good.”

  Regan’s neck and cheeks turn pink. She looks down at her shoes and whispers back, “You too.”

  Right off the bat, Mom calls Regan into the kitchen to help her serve the tortilla soup for dinner. I’ve missed Regan so much, I’d like to take her around the corner of the laundry room, pull the rubber band out of her hair, and kiss her like crazy. But that would probably ruin the deal I made with her dad.

  I head to the kitchen to help Regan carry the food to the table. She catches me staring at her and smiles. We carry the bowls full of soup to the table and take our seats. I can’t wait to kiss her later.

  Dad clears his throat, pulling my thoughts away from locking lips with Regan to the present moment. His eyebrows lift high on his forehead in question.

  I shrug and try to wipe the dopey smile off my face.

  As soon as Dad gives thanks for our food Mr. Stone asks me about my week. Which is kind of out of the blue since he’s supposed to be mad at me and he’s basically ignored me since he walked in the door.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “Between homework, working a few evenings, and playing my guitar, it keeps me busy.” Not too busy to think about Regan almost every minute of the day, though. Did I mention I’ve been working out twice a day to keep my mind off of the whole fiasco? Oh, and I lay in bed at night staring up at the ceiling trying to figure out how to technically discourage Regan from marine science while still encouraging her.

  This week has been terrible. It was so humiliating to be sent home as if I were an eight-year-old boy who’d gotten caught cheating in class. It was killing me not knowing if I’d see her again.

  The conversation finally turns to the reason we’re all at this table. Dad brings up the fact that Regan and me dating has been inevitable. That’s news to me. Have they discussed this before?

  Regan angles her head so that no one else can see her face but me. Her eyes bulge. I raise my shoulders ever so slightly to let her know I don’t know anything about it.

  Mom adds a juicy tidbit that ever since Regan could follow me and Linc around, our moms had hoped we would grow up and fall in love.

  We’ve been blindsided by our parents. Should I be weirded out over this? I’m not. Instead, my chest puffs up at the thought of falling in love with Regan. Because every little kiss brings us closer together. I think I’m falling for her like that…in love. We’re better together, like a team. More than her—more than me— more than each other.

  Regan’s skin pales when she hears our mom’s plans. I can see the wheels turning in her brain, freaking out about falling in love. She doesn’t want to fall in love. Not now. Not until she’s a marine scientist.

  Here I am making deals with her dad to get that idea out of her head. Ugh, the soup curdles in my stomach.

  Yeah, don’t think I’m hungry anymore. I’m not sure I can sit here and pretend like what I’ve agreed to is not really happening. Regan’s been so anti-dating ever since her cousin Susanna had “the talk” with her. Which ended up being talk after talk, over and over until Regan was brainwashed to making her no dating rules.

  Now I’ll be brainwashing her against marine science.

  I excuse myself from the table. Sweat beads on the back of my neck by the time I make it to the bathroom. The person staring back at me isn’t someone I want to know.

  You don’t have to do it forever. Just until summer. Talk her into telling her dad she’s undecided.

  It’s a short-term solution. My stomach settles with this statement. I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face. If I stick with this, she’ll understand.

  Do this or no Regan.

  After I dry off, I look in the mirror and repeat the promise, “Just until summer.” And I’ll do as little as possible.

  When I return, I help clear the table for dessert, and Regan serves the cheesecake with blueberry sauce. I walk by and graze my hand against hers. She pulls away like she doesn’t want to touch me.

  I take the coffee cups out of the cabinet, stand beside her at the coffee maker, and whisper, “I want to kiss the breath out of you, not marry you. Relax.”

  She snickers and drops her tense shoulders. “It’s just … weird, them saying that stuff about us when we were practically babies. Don’t you think?” She pours coffee in each cup.

  It’s weird, but Regan doesn’t need to start thinking there’s some conspiracy going on, or she might find one.

  I cock my head to the side and reach for two full coffee cups. “Weirder than you?”

  Her lips twitch upward. “Shut up.”

  Regan follows me to the table, and we deliver the coffee to our parents, taking our seats next to each other once again. I bump my knee against hers. She gives me a sideways glance and rubs her libs together, trying to hide a smile.

  “Tim,” Dad says, placing his clasped hands on the tabletop. “What do you say to a compromise with the kids?

  Mr. Stone leans his back against the chair. He glances at Regan and me before taking a drink of his coffee. It feels like hours go by before he says anything. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  Yeah, right. This whole thing is a sham. Why don’t you talk about that?

  He locks eyes with me. For a second, I think he might be reading my mind, and I shift my gaze to the wall behind Mom and Mrs. Stone.

  “I should have heard you out when you brought Regan home from school.”

  I nod. It’s not quite the same as him admitting, “I was a jerk for kicking you out. I’m sorry. Forget all about that hush-hush agreement to ruin my daughters hopes and dreams,” but I’ll take what I can get.

  “That said, Regan is still grounded.”

  Regan’s head drops. Tears build on her bottom lashes in an instant.

  “But I will agree to you coming to the house on the weekends.”

  I hook my foot around hers. She sniffs and looks at me. Judging by the look on her face, she’s shocked we get to see each other while she’s grounded.

  Dad bargains for more. “How about we extend that to our house too?”

  “Yes,” Mom says. “Our house is Regan’s home too.”

  Mrs. Stone turns to her husband. “I think that would be okay. Don’t you, Tim?”

  Mr. Stone nods.

  “Okay then.” Dad taps his knuckles on the tabletop, sounding the gavel. “Regan and Lane are free to see each other on the weekends as long as they’re either at your house or ours.” Court is adjourned.

  The conversation changes to Dad and Mr. Stone’s work hours.

  Regan and I team up to clear the dessert dishes from the table. She comes up beside me at the sink wearing a frown, and murmurs, “We’re about to leave.”

  I’d rather she didn’t. “Maybe I can take you home?”

  “That would be great, but I don’
t want to press my luck.”

  I turn toward Regan’s parents, and ask to take Regan home and hang out there tonight. Mr. Stone gives me the go ahead, like I knew he would. I’m doing his dirty work, why wouldn’t he?

  23

  Lane

  Cam’s truck is already in Tobi’s drive when I pull in. I park beside him, grab Haylee’s gift, and jog to the door. Tobi had said to come on in when I got here, so I make my way down the carpeted stairs, figuring out how I can get out of here as soon as possible without ticking Tobi off. The G5, it’s been a while since I’ve hung out with them, but I want to spend my home time with Regan. I get all the hanging out with friends I want at school.

  “Dude!” Cam calls from across the room as I make it to the end of the steps. “You finally decided to bless us with your presence.” Tobi and Haylee turn my way too.

  “Sorry I’m late.” I’d planned on showing up much sooner so I could leave early, but I wanted to make up for time lost with Regan. If I could’ve stayed with her, I would have.

  Cam steps like a robot to meet me, and then proceeds to hug me and plant a kiss on my cheek.

  I push him away and wipe my face where his lips touched. “Gross, Cam!” I glance at Haylee. “That’s what you have Haylee for.”

  His head flinches back, looking all kinds of offended. “Lane, that was my birthday present to you.”

  I shake my head, moving past him to hug Tobi and the birthday girl. “How do you put up with this guy?” I ask Haylee.

  She giggles and says, “You should’ve seen your face. Priceless.”

  “Yeah, Lane.” Tobi smacks my shoulder. “You look a little confused. Do you have something you want to share with us?”

  “Oh, so this is how it’s going to be tonight, huh? I’m definitely not confused.”

  Cam snorts. “He’s so not confused, ladies. I bet I know exactly where his not confused self is going—”

  I shoot Cam a look.

  “—after this,” he trails off and grimaces, mouthing, “What?”