“Well, I for one think it’s pretty crazy that we turned out to be neighbors.”
He’s still in here? Get a clue, dude. I want you to go away.
Just as I’m about to turn and tell him something though, I realize that he’s right next to me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at his closeness.
He holds up an empty glass, and nods toward the refrigerator. “Getting a refill. Is that okay with you?”
Did he have that glass when he walked in? And of course, he wants to get a refill while I’m standing in front of the fridge. Ugh.
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, forcing myself to ignore how close we are, “have at it.”
I’ll just walk around the other way. Which is exactly what I do as he starts to fill his glass with water.
“Hey, Meg?”
I could pretend that I didn’t hear him, but I go ahead and look over at him. “Yes?”
“No hard feelings about the past couple of days,” he drawls, tilting his head to the side, “right? You know that I was just messing around.”
Wow, how many times did I hear that back in middle school? However many times he managed to get in trouble, or did something that I didn’t like…
“Megan?”
“Whatever,” I tell him with an eye-roll, forcing myself not to say his name, “it’s not like I care anyway.”
And with that, I leave the kitchen and go back into the dining room. Everyone is still chatting it up like old friends, except for Hailee who’s “discreetly” using her phone under the table, and I set the tray of bread down before taking my seat again.
As I resume my eating, Brayden comes back into the room (with his glass full of water) and sits down next to me. Is it possible that he’s even closer now? And smells even better? Ugh, this is so stupid. Plus, to make things worse, my spaghetti is barely warm now.
“Of course, Megan would be glad to show Brayden around school tomorrow,” Mom suddenly tells Dawn with a bright smile, “she can be his little tour guide!”
I almost choke on my food at her words. His little tour guide? Like heck am I going to be his little anything!
Mom widens her eyes at me, her smile still intact. “Right, Megan?”
There’s no choice here.
“Right,” I agree with a mental sob, “I can totally show him around school.”
“Perfect!” Brayden’s mom exclaims, looking way too excited about this. “Brayden? Did you hear that? Megan is going to show you around school, honey.”
Brayden reaches for another piece of garlic bread, then gives me a brief smirk. “Can’t wait.”
Chapter 5: You’ve Changed
“Remember to be polite, Megan,” Mom tells me for the umpteenth time as I get out of the car. “The Knights are a wonderful family, and I don’t want them to think poorly of us.”
Because reelection for the neighborhood committee president will be happening next month, and she wants to make sure that the new neighbors vote for her instead of Sandy Wilson.
“Got it,” I say, holding back a sigh. “Love you, Mom.”
She raises an eyebrow and nods toward the middle seat section of the car. This time I actually do sigh. “Love you too, Kyle and Hailee.”
Hailee doesn’t say anything, probably because her earbuds are in, but Kyle pauses in his offbeat singing to give me a wide grin. “Love you, Megan!!! Have fun!”
In what world is high school fun?
“Yeah, thanks,” I reply, getting out of the car. “See you guys later.”
I close the passenger door just as Mom begins to lecture Hailee about “those darn earbuds” and then I start walking toward school’s main building. Technically, I’m supposed to wait out here for Brayden. That’s what our moms arranged to happen last night. They decided that I would stand outside looking like an idiot until he shows up and finds me. In my honest opinion, it’s a terrible plan. But I know how important it is to Mom that we make a good impression. Plus, I feel bad about the whole bread thing. She was really disappointed when the Knights didn’t mention anything about her blueberry bread last night. So, this is how I’m going to make it up to her…by sticking to their weird plan, and by being polite to Brayden.
Five minutes of waiting seems a little ridiculous though.
However, I’m not really surprised, because promptness was never a trait of Brayden’s. Especially when it came to school. Why didn’t I fake being sick, so I didn’t have to deal with this?
“What, no spit-fest this morning?”
And there it is, the most annoying sound on earth. Also—how dare he!
I whirl around to glare at him. “Excuse me?”
“Relax, Megan,” he drawls with a slight laugh, “it was a joke. Some morning humor to start the day, ya know?”
“Well, you’re not funny,” I retort, crossing my arms. “And you’re late.”
“Cut me some slack, Feisty,” he says in the same laidback way, “it’s my first day of school, I got a little lost.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap at him with a curse. “And next time, use your phone’s GPS like a normal person. Let’s go.”
He just stands there though; with pinched lips, like he wants to say something.
“What?” I ask, letting out a loud exhale. “I don’t have time for this, so if there’s something you want to say, then you just need to say it. That way we can get on with our lives, okay?”
“You’ve changed.”
He says it so simply, that I’m actually caught off-guard for a second.
Only a second though.
I feel my nose twitch ever-so-lightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He offers a shrug. “You weren’t as snappy when we were dating.”
While I should be offended by that, I’m more concerned about his usage of the word dating.
“First of all, we weren’t even teenagers yet,” I state in a matter-of-fact way, “so it’s not like we were really dating. And secondly, I’m not snappy. I just happen to have zero tolerance for things, or people, that annoy me.”
“You weren’t as uptight either,” he notes with a thoughtful look, “so weird.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t as rude,” I shoot back. I then proceed to motion behind me. “Now can we just get this over with already?”
He has the nerve to smirk. “Lead the way, my little tour guide.”
I scowl at him. “Again, not funny.”
“So, this is Robinson High,” he says, following me up the few steps of stairs that lead to the entrance doors, “filled with lots of pretty girls from the looks of it.”
Spare. Me.
I tug open one of the doors and step inside, not bothering to hold it for him. He’s quick enough to catch it though. Good for him.
“All right, let’s get your schedule,” I mutter as I start to walk toward the front office. “That way I can finally get rid of you…”
“What was that?” he asks, coming beside me. “You were talking under your breath, so I couldn’t hear the last part.”
“Really?” I widen my eyes at him. “And here I was thinking that you could.” I motion ahead to where one of the secretaries is on the phone. “That’s who you can talk to about getting your schedule and whatever else you need.”
I turn to leave, desperate to get the heck away from him, when he suddenly grasps my arm. “Wait, where are you going?”
Crap, I should not be feeling tingles right now.
“I’m going to class,” I reply, grateful that he let go of my arm just as quickly as he took a hold of it. “Just like thousands of other high school students do almost every single day.”
His eyebrows crease (but not in a cute way…at all). “Well, what about showing me around?”
He must notice my annoyed look, because he then adds, “Or can you at least show me where the bathrooms are?”
“Fine,” I grumble with an eye-roll, “I will show you where the bathrooms are. Now go get your
schedule.”
He gives me a lopsided grin before walking over to the front desk, and I tell myself that he’s not attractive in the slightest. Which is a total lie—of course—but I can’t afford to think that Brayden is a major hottie! Thinking that is so not okay. I mean, I broke up with him for a reason! Three reasons, actually…
Oh my gosh, that breakup note was so stupid. See? This is why preteens shouldn’t “date.” Thank God that Mom changed the dating age rule to fourteen when she did, otherwise Hailee could be making the same mistake(s) that I made. Or worse.
“Got my schedule,” Brayden announces, strolling back over to me, “and if we’re lucky enough, we just might have the same classes as each other.”
“Darn,” I tsk, snapping my fingers, “too bad I’m a totally unlucky person.”
That’s how I got stuck with him as a neighbor, after all.
“Don’t worry, Meg,” he tells me with a wink, “I have great luck.”
Oh, joy.
“Follow me,” I huff, turning to walk toward the nearest bathrooms. “Or don’t. Whichever.”
But, of course, he’s right behind me. Humming under his breath.
How. Annoying.
Except, it’s actually not.
“Okay,” I say, stopping in front of the bathrooms, “here you go. The bathrooms. Goodbye.”
“Thanks, Meg,” he drawls, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “So, I guess I’ll see you later then?”
I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Well, we are neighbors.”
He’s such a jerk for smiling like that’s funny.
It’s not funny.
It’s a flippin’ disaster.
“Hey,” he speaks once again, “where’s hallway B? That’s where my first class is.”
I point a finger to the left, where (after taking a turn or two) hallway A is located, then proceed to walk away from him.
With his great luck, I’m sure he’ll totally be able to make it to class on time…
Or not.
Whichever.
——————
The second that I walk into class, I’m rolling my eyes. Why? Well, it’s very simple. Beth Valerio…that’s why. She’s literally sitting on top of a desk with three—no, four guys crowding around her as she undoubtedly flirts with them. Like she always does. And then I (unfortunately) witness her “slow-motion hair flip.” No joke, it’s an actual thing. Almost every day, those blond locks of hers get to dramatically fall over her shoulder. To make things even worse, this has been going on since freshman year.
And it doesn’t seem like she’s planning on changing that.
I take a seat in the middle of the classroom and drop my bag on the floor next to me just as Mr. Sunshine comes into the room. Yep, that’s really his last name. And while the poor old guy gets a lot of negative attention for it, he never seems bothered.
Beth’s “admirers” scatter to find seats, and she discreetly slips into her own chair as Mr. Sunshine tries to find his glasses. The same glasses that he was just wearing when he walked into the room. As usual, he forgot that he set them on top of his desk.
Shocker.
Almost as soon as class starts, it ends with that wonderful bell ringing. I swear, the only thing that could make me love Mr. Sunshine’s class even more, would be if Beth wasn’t in Mr. Sunshine’s class. Just saying.
“There you are,” Lora says, coming up to me as I walk out of the classroom. “Soooo, how did the tour go with the ex?”
I step off to the side and scowl at her. “We’re no longer addressing him as that, remember?”
We already agreed on this last night when she finally got around to calling me.
“Meg, you had a name picked out for the dog that you guys were supposed to adopt after you both finished college and got married,” she tells me in a dry tone, “he counts as your ex.”
“You don’t know me,” I hiss, closing my drawstring bag shut.
She just rolls her eyes at me. “Has he mentioned anything about the note?”
“No, thank God,” I reply with a huff, “otherwise I’d probably be hiding out in the bathroom right now.”
“See? Didn’t I tell you there was absolutely nothing to worry about?”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble as I cross my arms, “your middle school boyfriend and preteen mistakes haven’t come back to haunt you.”
“True,” she agrees with a nod, “but I have my own ex problems, which you know.”
“Speaking of…” I trail off, looking past her. “He’s coming this way.”
She proceeds to curse. “Just go ahead and put me out of my misery.”
“Lora,” Holt singsongs, stopping beside her, “what’s going on, babe?”
“Holt,” Lora deadpans, swatting his arm away as he tries to put it around her shoulders. “I don’t have time to deal with you right now, I’m going to be late for class.”
“I’ll catch you at lunch then,” he drawls, his brown eyes watching her expectantly, “sound good?”
“See ya later, Meg,” Lora says, not bothering to acknowledge Holt as she walks past us, “keep me posted.”
“Posted about what?” Holt doesn’t hesitate in asking me. After all, he’s always been incredibly nosy.
I purse my lips at him. “None of your business, Márquez.”
“Rude,” he hums, pushing his eyeglasses back up his nose. “Hey, has Lora been talking about me more often these last few days?”
“I have class, Holt,” I state in a matter-of-fact tone as I go around him. “And even if I didn’t, you can be sure that I wouldn’t be passing along private intel to you.”
“So, that’s not a no!” he exclaims after me. “Right? Megan?”
I wave him off, continuing to walk down the hallway. If he wants to get back with Lora, that’s between him and her. I don’t want, or need, to be in the middle of their relationship drama. Case closed.
Once I make it to my next class, fully ready to open the door and walk in, someone reaches past me to grab the doorknob. What the—
And that’s when I lock eyes with Brayden.
He gives me the same lopsided grin from earlier this morning. “Told ya I have great luck.”
“You’re joking, right?”
At this point, I’m just holding onto false hope…
“Read it for yourself,” he drawls, handing me his folded schedule.
I reluctantly unfold it and look over the dreaded thing. Sure enough, he and I both have this class right now. Plus, we share another class. As well as lunch. I go ahead and make a mental note to hide during that period.
Fannnnnnntastic.
“Here,” I mutter, smacking the sheet of paper against his hard chest, “congratulations on having such amazing luck.”
In saying that, I open the classroom door and walk inside. Shockingly enough, he catches the door again. Yes, that was sarcasm. And no, I’m not bitter.
“Hey, Mrs. Flint,” Brayden greets our teacher oh-so-casually, “I’m Brayden Knight.”
“Ah, yes!” Mrs. Flint exclaims with a wide smile. “The new student. Well, I don’t have a tablet for you yet, but—oh, Megan!”
No.
Please, no.
“Could you share your tablet with Brayden?” she asks, looking at me expectantly. “Just until we can get one for him?”
I’m sure that any other girl in here would absolutely LOVE to share their tablet with him.
So, why do I find myself nodding?
“Sure thing, Mrs. Flint,” I agree for whatever stupid reason.
“Very good!” She sighs in apparent relief, then motions toward the middle of the room. “You have my permission to move your desks closer together, that way it’ll be easier for the two of you to share the tablet.”
Once again, I have made an extremely poor decision.
Even so, I trudge over to an empty desk and proceed to sit down. Brayden then takes
that as his cue to pick up another empty desk and set it right next to mine, along with its chair. Crazy enough, I’m pretty sure I hear a girl gasp. Wow, he can lift a desk and a chair…big deal. It’s not like he’s some kind of Hercules. I mean, I barely noticed his arms flex.
As Mrs. Flint begins to talk, Brayden sits down beside me, and I try not to cringe at our closeness. Why did I say that we could share a tablet? And why does my throat feel so dry all the sudden?
“Hey,” he whispers, his cool breath teasing my ear, “you good?”
Nope. Absolutely not. I am anything but good.
“I’m fine,” I snap, matching his quiet tone, “stop talking before you get us in trouble.”
His only response is a low laugh.
A low laugh that I wish didn’t sound so darn sexy…
Chapter 6: This Could Be Fate
By the time that lunch period comes around, I still have his sexy laugh stuck in my head.
So. Stupid.
Even more stupid? I can’t stop looking for him in the cafeteria. At first, it was just to make sure he wasn’t anywhere near me. Except, now I’m seriously wondering where he is. See? Stupid. I shouldn’t care if he’s in here or not.
“What’s that look for?” Lora asks, sitting across from me.
“There’s no look,” I fib as she sets her tray down in front of herself. “What took you so long?”
She rolls her eyes. “I was watching some cat video on my phone, and four people took that as an advantage to cut in front of me.”
“Ya know,” I drawl, motioning to her with one of my chips, “you could just finally get a cat, Lor. Didn’t your mom say that you could?”
“Correction, she said I could get a cat if I get my history grades up,” Lora says with a slight frown, “and we both know that history is my worst subject.”
If I was going to get in the middle of her relationship drama with Holt, then this is where I’d mention Holt’s straight A’s in history. But I’m not getting in the middle of it. So, I’m not mentioning it.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She raises an eyebrow at me before using her fork to carelessly push her mac and cheese around. “I’m not that desperate though.”
My Dilemma Page 4
