Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4)

by Robin Daniels

  Jayden slapped her palm to her forehead. “Oh, great. What did I actually say?”

  “I honestly had no clue what you meant, until you told me, because directly translated, herido means injured.”

  “Injured?” Jayden squeaked. “How was I so far off?”

  “Did you ask it to translate to be smitten or just smitten?”

  “Shoot!” Jayden winced. “I only put smitten.” Her thinking face was cute as she put two and two together. “So, the translator assumed smitten, like to smite, as in to hit, and it translated as being injured.”

  I gave her a golf clap while saying, “Very good.”

  “Too bad I wasn’t as brilliant at lunch. What was wrong with aletear?”

  “You were a lot closer with that one. I figured it out right away. Technically, aletear means to flap. Like, to flap your wings. If you’d wanted to say to flutter, the better word would have been revolotear. But that just means flutter, not to flutter. The two terms are used interchangeably since they aren’t very common words. If you’d typed in a whole sentence, the translator probably would have switched aletear to revolotea automatically.”

  The timer beeped, so Jayden pulled out the pizza and set it on the stove to cool. Then she faced me and leaned back against the counter, with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side. “So, you’re telling me that I said I flap because I’m injured?”

  I chuckled at her obvious frustration. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. The sentence you made said, I am injured, and my stomach starts to flap.”

  “Like that’s much better. It was supposed to say I’m smitten and my stomach is starting to flutter.”

  “I knew what you meant. And your attempt wasn’t that bad,” I insisted, biting back my smile in a show of support. Her face said yeah, right. “You conjugated to start correctly. And, in your defense, we haven’t covered the other two verbs. I doubt we will, either. They aren’t exactly essential for basic conversation.”

  Jayden threw her hands in the air. “Ugh! Why does the Spanish language hate me?”

  “Maybe because you hate it?” I suggested.

  Jayden picked up a knife and started slicing the pizza. She handed me a couple pieces, took a few for herself, and sat back down across from me. “I don’t hate it. It just sounds stupid coming out of my mouth. It sounds sexy coming out of yours.”

  That wasn’t the first time she’d said so, and while I didn’t point it out, I couldn’t let her comment go unaddressed. I replied with, “Then, siempre hablaré español para tí.” It was a gamble, since she’d probably figure out what I’d said in a second, but I felt like exploiting her weakness.

  Over the course of the day, Jayden had made me happy, then giddy, then annoyed, then angry, then back to happy. And right now, as much as I hated to admit it, I was feeling kind of smitten, in the non-injured way. If I was being totally honest with myself, I couldn’t deny that I had feelings beyond friendship.

  What was I supposed to do now? I wasn’t totally sure how she felt about me. At the very least, I knew she liked me shirtless, but that didn’t mean much. Sometimes I thought she was flirting, but other times she acted more chummy. And half the time she seemed downright annoyed with me. She was extremely hot and cold, so maybe it meant she was equally confused. The one thing I did know, is that when I’d almost kissed her, it felt like she wanted me to.

  Jayden eyed me with uncertainty, then stood suddenly. “You want to watch some TV while we eat?” She didn’t wait for an answer, heading into the family room without me.

  Had I done something wrong? Did she figure out what I said and get freaked out? I wasn’t blatantly flirting. Okay, I was, but it didn’t count if she couldn’t understand what I’d said. Even if she had, it wasn’t any worse than the other times I’d said flirty things. Except, the mood was totally different this time.

  I picked up my plate and followed, to find her sitting on the couch—exactly in the middle. That meant she wanted me to sit by her, right? Because she didn’t give me the option of sitting far away? Ugh. I was making a bigger deal out of this than I should. I had to stop overthinking everything.

  Okay, so I liked her. No big deal. It’s not like I was clueless about girls. Being assertive with the ladies wasn’t usually a problem for me. So why now? Because I didn’t usually care about them, that’s why. You need to freaking man up Mike, I told myself.

  I sat next to her and tried to get relaxed, but the couch wouldn’t let me. No matter how I moved, there was absolutely no give. Jayden watched me, an amused expression on her face. “How’s that working out for you?” She smirked.

  “No wonder you refused to give up your bed. I can’t believe you’d make me sleep on this,” I answered in fake outrage. “It’s a cool-looking couch, but on the comfort scale, it’s like one step up from a concrete platform.”

  Jayden laughed and nodded. “That’s probably why I fell asleep on your couch the other day. Compared to this bad boy, it was like sitting on a bed of cotton balls.”

  “Oh my gosh, Jayden. This is awful. How do you ever relax?”

  “It’s not easy. There is one trick, but it doesn’t help much. And it won’t work as well with two of us.”

  “I’ll do anything,” I pleaded.

  “It involves sitting close to me. Can you handle that? Since you’re so worried about being smelly.” She grinned at me, knowing I was desperate enough to overlook my previous concern.

  “Maybe the smell of the pizza will overpower mine,” I suggested.

  “There was a reason I sat in the middle,” she explained. “The only place you can even remotely sink in is at the crack. Stand up; I’ll show you.”

  We both stood, and I examined the couch. It was covered in very fancy, very tight, very squeaky leather. It had two long cushions—and I use the term cushion loosely—on the bottom and two identical ones on the back. All the cushions were attached to the couch, so you couldn’t remove or reposition them. Jayden stepped sideways and sat in the middle of a cushion. It didn’t even budge. It was like trying to sink into a park bench.

  Then she stood and stepped back to the middle of the couch, sitting directly on the crack where the cushions met. “Did you see it?” she asked.

  “See what?”

  She frowned. “I sank into the crack a tiny bit.”

  “That’s not sinking in. The cushions barely moved,” I pointed out, then smirked. “You’re not sinking in crack, you’re smoking it.”

  Jayden rolled her eyes at my admittedly lame joke. “It’s the best I can offer. Take it or leave it. But I don’t think you’re being very appreciative, since I’m willing to share my crack with you.” She paused, then giggled. “That sounded really bad. What I meant to say is that you should be grateful I’m willing to let you straddle the crack with me.” The second she said it, her face contorted.

  I held up a hand and laughed. “That was way worse; you should stop. Thank you, Jayden, for giving me some of your crack.” She giggled again. Stinky or not, she was inviting me to snuggle on a concrete couch. How could I say no?

  I sat on my half of the crack, and she propped a giant throw pillow behind me. Then she pulled the coffee table close and put another giant pillow on it for our feet. Finally, she grabbed a blanket and sat next to me, tucking it around our legs. “See how cozy this is?” If grins could be sarcastic, then she totally nailed it. “Now, what should we watch?”

  “It’s your house, you pick.” She went to the TV guide channel, then entered the numbers for ESPN. “Aww, you do like me,” I teased.

  Another dry look. “No, I just feel bad about entertaining a guest on my horrible couch,” she replied. There she went again—hot and cold.

  We ate our pizza and fell into comfortable conversation, joking and laughing, barely noticing the television. We were arm to arm, hip to hip, and leg to leg the entire time. I’d even forgotten about needing a shower. After a while, I remembered I didn’t have my phone. I really didn’t want to get up,
because once I moved, we’d lose the chemistry connecting us. I sat there, debating with myself about whether to retrieve the phone or pretend I didn’t have it. Responsibility won the battle, and I threw the blanket off my legs.

  “Where are you going?” Jayden asked.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to grab my phone.” I went to the foyer to fetch it from my bag, but when I looked at the screen, I noticed that I’d been here for over two hours. And that I’d missed four calls from my mom. I cursed softly, then picked up my bag and walked back to the living room.

  “I have to go,” I said with a frown.

  “For realz?” She was mocking me, but her frown mirrored mine. It sounded adorable when she said it, and she looked genuinely disappointed.

  “Yeah.” I winced. “I forgot to call my mom to tell her I was eating dinner with you, and then I left my phone in my bag. It’s after dark, I’m two hours later than I said I’d be, and she’s called four times with no answer. I need to do some major damage control.”

  Jayden got up and walked me to the door. I stepped onto the porch and she said, “Make sure you tell your mom it wasn’t my fault that you’re late. I don’t want her to hate me.” She paused, leaning her head against the side of the door. “Actually, tell her I insisted you go home, but you wouldn’t listen.” Now she was grinning.

  Oh, man did I want to kiss her. Maybe more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone. Her eyes were dancing, and her glossy, pink lips were saying, kiss me, Mike, kiss me. After how well the evening had gone, now would have been the perfect time for taking the chance. Except I still needed a shower, and my mother was probably going berserk. With my luck, I’d kiss Jayden, she’d be totally into it, and then I’d have to walk away. That’s not something you start unless you have time to finish it.

  “Thanks for feeding me,” I said, heading toward the sidewalk, “and for running with me.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. If you hadn’t, I might never have realized what a good runner I am. Maybe I should join the cross-country team?”

  “No. I forbid it,” I said over my shoulder as I started to jog away.

  “Why?” she yelled out.

  I turned to jog backward as I answered, “You might make me look bad.” I’d have winked, but I was too far away for her to see it. She smiled and waved before shutting the door. Then I really took off and set a record for the fastest half mile on the planet.

  “Where have you been?” My mom rushed me when I opened the door. I tried to apologize, but I couldn’t breathe because she was squeezing me so tightly.

  “Mom, ease up, will you?” I panted, still winded from the sprint.

  “Sorry.” She let go of me and stepped back, placing a hand over her heart. “I know you’re practically an adult, and I don’t care that you were out. But it’s unlike you to not return my calls. You know how quickly my mind jumps to the worst-case scenario. I was convinced that the two of you had been hit by a car and rushed off to the hospital with nothing to ID you.”

  “You’re so dramatic.”

  “No, I’m a mom,” she answered. Her inflection said not to argue.

  “I’m sorry I forgot to call. I stayed at Jayden’s house for dinner, and I lost track of time. My phone was buried in my water pack, so I didn’t hear it ring.”

  Now that she knew I was safe, her worry lines softened, and her eyes twinkled playfully. “Just dinner?” she asked suggestively.

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Mom. It’s like you’re encouraging me to be promiscuous. What kind of parent does that?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “The kind of parent that wants her kids to be happy. And I’m not encouraging promiscuity. But an actual healthy relationship with…a girl would make me feel better.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Nothing.”

  “Mom,” I said sternly.

  She sighed, as if she knew she was in trouble. “It’s just…well, you’ve never seemed seriously interested in a girl. Or talked about anyone specific, or even brought anybody home. And you’re eighteen. I was starting to wonder if…”

  “What the hell, Mom? You honestly thought I was gay?”

  She obviously felt bad enough to overlook the swear. “It wouldn’t have been a big deal if you were”—she fumbled anxiously— “er…are…” She stopped talking and waited for me to confirm her dangling implication.

  I was shocked, and a little irked. “No, I’m not gay. I’m as not gay as a dude can get.”

  “Well, you can’t blame me for wondering.” She sighed as she eased herself onto our couch. Our comfortable, fluffy cotton ball couch. “It’s okay if you’re a late bloomer.”

  “Mom!” I practically shrieked. “You’re killing me here!” I closed my eyes and started rubbing my temples. This conversation was getting out of control and giving me a headache. “I’m not a late bloomer. I’m picky.”

  “Oh.” Her lips formed a tiny O, as if that thought had never occurred to her.

  I sat on the couch next to her and tried to put her mind at ease. “All the single girls I know are boring, or ditzy, or overly concerned with their social status. I don’t have anything in common with them or find them interesting in any way. The only reason I haven’t brought a girl home is because I haven’t found one worth bringing home.”

  “You brought Jayden home,” she pointed out.

  “Out of necessity.”

  There was a pause before she asked, “But you like her, don’t you?” I didn’t answer right away. “Michael McGinnes, you almost gave me a heart attack tonight. You better not lie to me on top of it.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I like her.”

  “A lot?” Mom had a hint of giddiness in her voice.

  “Maybe.”

  “That means yes.” A broad smile spread across her face as she slapped me on the knee before standing up. “Good. Now, go do something about it.”

  JAYDEN

  “Oh goodness,” I whispered as I shut the door after saying good-bye to Mike. I didn’t know a lot of Spanish, but I knew the important words. Muy caliente—very hot. That simple phrase ran through my head every time I thought about my shirtless Spanish tutor. I must have entered an alternate universe, because Mike had been nothing but charming for the entire afternoon. Then, there was the thing he’d said in the kitchen. I’d understood the words speak, Spanish and you, but was unsure what siempre meant, and I’d been dying to look it up. As soon as he left, it was the first thing I did.

  “Siempre hablaré español para tí,” I said out loud as I typed. It hadn’t sounded rude when he said it, but I was still surprised when the translation popped up. “I will always speak Spanish for you,” I mumbled. That was kind of sweet, almost romantic even. I reminded myself not to read into it. Mike was a jock and I was a brain, and it didn’t matter that we’d just had an amazing afternoon together. He’d spent his entire young adulthood trying not to be like me. It was highly unlikely he’d throw everything out the window to date someone like me.

  I woke up the next morning, thinking about Mike. Which had been what I was thinking about when I fell asleep, and even though I don’t remember, I’m betting I thought about him in my sleep, too. It seemed I’d developed a crush, which was crazy because the guy drove me nuts half the time. And it was hopeless since I wasn’t his type. I mean, I don’t really know what his type is, but I’m sure it wasn’t me. That didn’t stop me from thinking about him shirtless all through first hour…and second…and third. Not in fourth hour, though, but only because I had a test.

  “You’re looking dreamy today.” Becca grinned.

  “What are you talking about?” I slammed my locker shut and wiped my face blank.

  Becca scrutinized me carefully. “There’s something off about you,” she said as she waved her hand around my body. “You look all…glowy.”

  “Glowy isn’t a word.”

  “It’s a word if I say it’s a word. Now what gives?”<
br />
  I tried to think of a reasonable excuse. I couldn’t tell her the truth. For some reason, it felt tacky to say I was glowing because I had a fatty crush on her homecoming date, who, by the way, looks awesome half naked. “I’m still riding the A minus high.” I slapped on a mega-watt grin.

  I think she bought my story, because she returned my smile and pinched my cheeks. “And I’m still sooo proud of you,” she said in a baby-talk voice.

  I swatted at her. “I’m having a good morning. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

  “Heck yes, it is.” She held up her hand for a high five. It was something she did regularly to tease me, since I had to jump to reach it. I usually blew her off, but today I humored her and hopped up to tap it. She raised an eyebrow in response. “Wow. You really are in a good mood.”

  I shrugged. “What’s not to feel good about? Once I get through my recital tonight, it’ll be smooth sailing. Mr. Thompson already nixed our homework, and none of my other teachers will be cruel enough to assign it this weekend. I’ve got a girl’s night with my mom on Friday, hair and nails with you and Summer on Saturday morning, the dance on Saturday night, and I plan to sleep all day Sunday. It’s going to be an awesome weekend.”

  “I’m liking this new, peppy, happy, less sarcastic Jayden. So much, in fact, that I’d like to take her to lunch.” Becca hooked her elbow through mine and grinned as she held up her brown paper sack. “It’s my treat.”

  “You’re such a goofball, but I accept,” I replied.

  We walked into the cafeteria and sat at our table, talking about Saturday’s plans. I felt someone approach and looked up to find Mike standing behind us, baseball cap turned to the side. Ordinarily, I would have said something about how stupid he looked, but I thought about how not stupid he looked yesterday and forgave him for the fashion no-no.

  Becca cupped her hands around her mouth and called out in a low, rumbling voice, “Mike M in da hooouse!” The word house came out as a howl.

  I reached over the table and slapped a hand to her forehead, pretending to check for a fever. “I think he’s infected you. We should get you to a doctor, ASAP.”