The Boyfriend Bet (Boyfriend Chronicles #2)

by Chris Cannon

  Jane nodded. “I really like Nathan, but sometimes he acts like the world rotates around him.”

  “Aren’t all guys like that?” My brother expected everyone to do what he wanted. My dad had ignored my mother when she told him not to drive a classic muscle car that didn’t have air bags. He’d laughed at her concerns. A few months after that argument, he was dead. Tears filled my eyes. Would this ever stop happening? Being ambushed by grief had become a regular event over the last year. The frequency had lessened. The emotional wound wasn’t raw anymore, but it still hurt.

  “You okay?” Delia asked.

  “Give me a minute.” I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, focusing on the moment. Thinking about how my dad would want me to be happy. Once I felt in control I opened my eyes. “Sorry. That one snuck up on me.”

  “I think it’s time for coffee,” Delia said. “That always makes you feel better.”

  Jane rejoined us with a smile on her face. “Nathan will meet us for dessert. All I have to do is text him with the name of the restaurant when we’re almost done eating.”

  “Sounds good. Right now I need a café mocha.” I pointed toward the mall. “Starbucks is this way.”

  “Where are we going for lunch?” Delia asked.

  “That is a question we can discuss over coffee.”

  Once we were seated with our caffeinated beverages, Jane asked, “What restaurant has the best desserts?”

  “Betty’s has the best pie,” Delia said.

  Jane frowned. “I’m not a pie person. I don’t understand why people make such a fuss over warm fruit.”

  “Because it’s awesome,” Delia said. “But if you want cake we can go to Frank’s BBQ.”

  “Why are all the restaurants around here named after someone?” Jane asked.

  “Because they aren’t chains,” I said. “They are family owned and operated, which makes them better.”

  Jane pointed at my mocha. “How’s that chain coffee tasting?”

  “Starbucks is awesome but they are the exception to the rule.”

  After some more shopping we headed to Frank’s as planned. I was halfway through my plate of barbecued ribs when Jane texted Nathan.

  “I want to be sure and give him enough time to meet us.”

  I hoped Nathan was as wonderful as she thought. In my limited experience, most boys didn’t live up to the way guys were portrayed in movies. When Nathan entered the restaurant half an hour later, I realized he could definitely play a leading man. Jane’s face lit up when she saw him and I was relieved to see him beaming right back at her. Of course that didn’t stop half the women in the restaurant from checking him out. Not that I could blame them. If he wasn’t dating my cousin I’d be staring at him, too.

  He arrived at our table, sat down, and kissed Jane on the cheek. “Hello.”

  She blushed. “Hello, yourself. Nathan, meet Zoe and Delia.”

  We did the normal nice to meet you round of introductions, and then Nathan tilted his head and touched the sleeve of her turquoise yet far less fuzzy replacement sweater. “What happened?”

  Jane ducked her head. “I spilled a drink on my sweater. Sorry.”

  He stared at her for long enough that the situation became uncomfortable. “You don’t like the sweater.”

  “Of course I do.” Jane sounded slightly panicked.

  “Let me rephrase that. You don’t have to like the sweater just because I gave it to you.”

  “I do. End of discussion.” She snagged the dessert menu from the center of the table. “More importantly, do you want to split the carrot cake and the crème torte or should we switch one of those out for German chocolate cake?”

  “The first two sound good,” Nathan said.

  “Vegetables don’t belong in cake,” Delia muttered as she looked at the dessert menu.

  “Most don’t,” I agreed. “Carrot cake is a wonderful aberration.”

  We made easy small talk with Nathan while we ordered and then ate dessert. I could see why Jane liked him. He said all the right things and told funny stories but he reminded me of someone running for political office. He was a little too smooth and perfect to be real. Then again, who was I to judge? I’d just met him.

  Chapter Ten

  Grant

  I heard voices coming from the dining room as I headed out the door, Sunday morning. One of them sounded disturbingly familiar. I froze halfway down the hall.

  My mother stepped into the hallway and smiled like everything was right in her world, which confirmed my suspicion. “There you are. Come join us. Lena and her mother dropped by with scones and coffee.”

  I pulled my keys from my pocket. “Sorry. Aiden is waiting for me.”

  “Then come say hello before you leave.”

  I could make a break for it and run out the door, but the grief I would receive over my rude behavior wasn’t worth it. “Of course.”

  I stepped into the dining room, ready to nod, say hello, and run like hell, but I didn’t manage to get a word out. For a moment, all I could do was stare, and I knew I was being an idiot, but my brain was having trouble processing this unexpected development. Lena, my controlling and manipulative ex-girlfriend had transformed herself. Gone was her standard ponytail. Her hair was cut short in a way that made her eyes look huge and her bright red lips kissable. “Your hair.” Was all I managed to get out.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, like she wasn’t quite sure it had been the right move.

  I nodded, afraid of what might come out of my mouth.

  “Thank you. I was in the mood for a change.” She pointed at the platter of pastries on the table. “You should try the cranberry scones. They’re amazing.”

  “Sure.” I sat down and picked up a scone, even though the rational part of my brain was screaming at me that this was a trap. If I sat here and made small talk, I’d end up agreeing to do something else with Lena.

  My mother and Lena’s mom had their heads together while they pored over some decorating magazines. “What’s that about?” I asked, trying to take control of the conversation, at least.

  “Mother wants to redo the screened in porch and turn it into one of those all season rooms with glass walls and a fireplace.”

  I took a bite of the scone, not tasting it. Lena was smiling at me and my mother was smiling at me and I needed out of this room before the two of them somehow managed to screw up my life. Pushing away from the table, I stood. “Nice seeing you. I have to go. I’m meeting Aiden.”

  “Where are you meeting him?” my mother asked.

  Wherever I said I was going, my mother would suggest I take Lena along for the ride. Come on brain. Think. Where would Lena not want to go?

  My cell buzzed. Talk about divine intervention. “Excuse me.” Aiden’s name flashed on the screen along with a text that he needed more sleep so he didn’t want to do anything until later.

  “Something wrong?” Lena asked.

  I knew she could see the screen and the message from where she sat, which meant I was doomed, unless I acted fast. “I should call him.”

  Lena leaned in close and whispered, “You’re terrified your mother will suggest you and I do something together, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t sound mad, like I thought she would. “Maybe.”

  “Don’t worry. I see now that I may have been a little pushy before. I’m trying not to be that person anymore.”

  What do I say to that? “Oh…that’s good.”

  My mother asked Lena a question about the all season’s room, passing her a magazine. I ate my scone while I calculated my odds of escaping the dining room without my mother manipulating me into doing what she wanted.

  Lena passed me the magazine and pointed at two photos. “Which one do you like better?”

  “They’re both nice.”

  My mother laughed. “That’s exactly what your father would say if I asked him, which is why men are no help when it comes to decorating.”

  And he
re was my opening. “Since I can’t help, I’m going to take off now. It was nice seeing both of you.” I nodded at Lena and her mother as I beat a hasty retreat to the garage, my car, and freedom. I didn’t have a destination. I just wanted to drive so I headed for the highway.

  That hadn’t been so bad, after all. Lena wasn’t acting at all like her old self. Had she changed? She’d always been beautiful, but her new hair made her hot. It was just hair. Still. She’d looked amazing.

  The buzz of the pavement under my tires had my mind wandering to the good times Lena and I used to have together. Wait. Why was I doing this? Did I want to get back together with her? That was ridiculous. What were my other options? Amber had become annoying. Zoe’s face popped into my head. Maybe I should talk to her. See how I felt when she smiled at me.

  Consciously or not, I found myself driving toward the exit for Betty’s Burgers and Zoe’s house. I pulled into the parking lot at Betty’s. I needed to think this through before I did something stupid. If I’d learned anything from my relationship with Lena it was that breaking up with someone was no guarantee they’d be out of your life. Unless one of you moved to another city, you still had to see the person at school and around town. Did I really want to start something with Zoe when I’d have to see her every day in Foods class?

  A knock on the window brought me out of my thoughts. Zoe stood there smiling. Delia was on her cell. I rolled down the window. “Hello.”

  “What are you doing here?” Zoe asked as she leaned down to talk to me.

  “Learning how to play violin, obviously.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let me rephrase that. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

  “Hiding from my mother.” Wait. Why did I say that?

  “I see. This is like witness relocation for snobs?”

  “Exactly. What are doing today?”

  “Delia and I just finished eating. We were thinking about playing putt-putt golf since it’s so nice outside. Want to join us?”

  It’s not like I had any other plans. “Sure. I could call Aiden and we could meet you guys.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I dialed Aiden’s number and explained the situation.

  “I’m sleeping,” was his answer.

  “Throw on some clothes and meet us at Putt-Putt Village.” I hung up, not giving him a chance to back out.

  “Aiden’s in. He’ll meet us there.”

  On the twenty-minute drive to my destination, I ran through a dozen different scenarios of how dating Zoe could turn out. None of which helped me figure out what I wanted to do.

  I met up with Zoe and Delia in the parking lot. We sat on a park bench while we waited for Aiden. Zoe told me about her cousin and the guy she dated.

  “Why would she tell him she liked the sweater if she didn’t? Guys don’t want to be lied to.”

  “If you gave a girl something and she told you to return it, how would you feel?” Zoe asked.

  “I wouldn’t be happy, but it’s better than finding out later that she lied.”

  “So honesty is always the best policy?” Delia asked. There was a note of challenge in her voice.

  “Yes,” I said and then looked at Zoe.

  She tapped her nails on the bench. “I’d say almost always, unless you’re bending the truth to save someone’s feelings.”

  Once Aiden joined us, we each paid for our own golf balls and grabbed a putter. Zoe went first, smacking the ball too hard so it rebounded off several obstacles and rolled back to the starting line.

  “You do realize that the point of this game is to make your ball go in the other direction, don’t you?” I pointed toward the hole.

  “Smart ass.”

  I laughed. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

  I tapped my ball and it rolled through the obstacles and stopped a foot from the hole.

  “That’s a boring way to play,” Zoe said.

  Delia hit her ball so it ricocheted off several obstacles, and made a hole in one.

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” said Aiden.

  “Why not?” Delia asked.

  “The angles don’t work that way. If you look at it mathematically, you should’ve ricocheted the ball off the second obstacle to make a hole in one.”

  Delia shook her head. “It’s not about math. It’s about balance and patterns.”

  “We’ll see.” Aiden lined his ball up, tapped it and sent it smacking into the second obstacle and into the hole. “That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

  “You play your way, and I’ll play mine.”

  By the last hole, Delia and Aiden were tied for first place. I was in second and Zoe was in a distant third.

  “Maybe if you aimed the ball, it would work better.” Delia said to Zoe.

  “That would be boring.” She whacked the ball and ended up bouncing it off the green onto the sidewalk. Rather than being upset, she picked up her ball and waited for us to finish.

  “Good thing we aren’t playing for money,” I said.

  “We’re playing for fun,” Zoe said. “My way is fun for me.”

  “Even though you won’t win?” Aiden asked.

  “I don’t really care about winning this game,” Zoe said.

  “Don’t let her fool you. There are games she’s prepared to spill blood over.” Delia lined up her shot, and ricocheted the ball off the wall three times before it dropped into the hole.

  Aiden made a pained sound. “How are you defying the laws of physics?”

  “It’s making you crazy, isn’t it?” Delia sounded like she was enjoying the situation.

  “Yes,” Aiden said. “You’re systematically destroying the rules of my world. Knock it off.”

  “Change is good for you.” Delia gave an evil laugh.

  “No. It’s not.” Aiden lined up the angle of his putt, and then tapped the ball a little too lightly. It headed straight for the cup but stopped an inch from the hole.

  “Woo hoo!” Delia threw her arms up. “I win.”

  Aiden muttered under his breath as he knocked his ball in, adding an extra stroke to his score. I hit my ball in after three tries.

  …

  Zoe

  While I watched Delia run a victory lap around Aiden, Grant grabbed my hand. What is that about?

  “Come here a minute.” He tugged me toward the counter where we returned our golf clubs and then over to one of the benches lining the sidewalks.

  Holding his hand felt frighteningly natural. My stomach knotted up. What the heck was Mr. I-don’t-want-a-girlfriend doing?

  He looked at our entwined hands as he spoke. “I like you, Zoe. And not just as a friend.”

  And now it felt like I had swallowed a dozen golf balls. I waited for him to continue, hoping my palm wouldn’t start to sweat.

  “Do you want to try dating again?” He glanced up at me with a strangely vulnerable look in his eyes.

  Yes, my inner girly-girl squealed. I stomped down on her enthusiasm, forcing myself to be rational. I’d been down this path before and been deeply disappointed. I needed more information this time around. “When you say, dating, what does that mean?”

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It means we spend time together, and see what happens. No promises of forever, but with the idea that it could turn into a boyfriend girlfriend thing if it works out.”

  That sounded pretty good, but I needed more…some sort of guarantee that he’d be sticking around for a while. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a dance coming up at school. Will you take me?” I needed to know that my brother had been wrong. Grant needed to prove that he thought I was good enough to take to a big event.

  His eyebrows came together like he was figuring out all the ways this could go wrong, which was weird since he was the one who’d started this. Time to smooth things over so he’d know I wasn’t trying to trap him. “This is not me trying to be your exclusive girlfriend. This i
s me wanting to disprove my brother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I told him about my brother’s opinion that snobs never took hicks to big events.

  “Your brother is an ass.”

  “Some days yes, some days no. Here’s what I’m suggesting: we date like you said and see where it goes. As long as we’re still dating when the dance happens, we go together.”

  “I can live with that.” His cell vibrated, like he’d received a text. He dropped my hand to grab his phone. His eyebrows went up and then he laughed. “My dad says I need to come rescue him because my mother and Lena’s mom have him cornered in the dining room and they’re forcing him to look at decorating magazines.”

  That was strange. “Why is Lena’s mom at your house?”

  “Probably because her dad didn’t want to talk about wallpaper and carpet, either.” He stood. “I better go save him.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “He just bought the collector’s edition of Doctor Who. We’re up to the eighth season. If I suggest they watch with us they’ll run away, so my dad won’t have to.”

  I laughed. “Smart and sneaky. I like it.”

  “What’s your stance on Doctor Who?” he asked.

  “If we’re going to lay our geek cards on the table, I will tell you that I don’t own a sonic screwdriver, but weeping angel statues freak me out.”

  “As they should.” He stood. “I’m glad I ran into you today.”

  I was full of warm fuzzies. “Me, too.”

  He headed for his car. I sat there smiling like an idiot.

  Aiden and Delia walked over, deep in conversation, or maybe they were arguing. It was hard to tell. Aiden stopped talking and glanced around. “Where’s Grant?”

  “He had to go rescue his dad from an awkward decorating situation.”

  “I guess I’ll be going, too. See you at school,” Aiden said, and then vanished practically like smoke.

  “What is that about?” Delia asked. “Why does he bail as soon as Grant leaves?”

  “Maybe he needs a wing-man in social situations.” I popped up off the bench. “Let’s go back to the house and bake. I have good news to share.”

  On the drive to my house I filled her in on my situation with Grant.