The Me I Meant to Be

by Sophie Jordan

  “If you must know, I tried this on my own at first. I’ve never needed a tutor before.”

  “Okay,” he said, the single word full of skepticism.

  For the next twenty minutes, he watched me go through the practice problems, interjecting only when he saw me making a mistake—​which was more often than not. He never did the work for me. Annoying at first, even though I realized that was the whole point. Me figuring it out for myself.

  He was quiet, patiently watching me work, his voice deep and steady beside me when he did speak.

  I watched him under my lashes as he explained how to break down inverse functions in an easy manner. Well, easy for him. He acted like it was as simple as making a peanut butter sandwich. That must be nice: being so smart that the things that stumped the majority of people came easy to you.

  I guess he was attractive. In a nerd way. Some girls would go for him. Probably Willa. But totally not my taste. I preferred athletes. Football players. Soccer players. Throw in the occasional wrestler. I liked a guy who could carry me out of a burning building if need be and not break a sweat.

  He was wearing a henley shirt, long sleeves pushed up to his elbows, but his forearms looked strong.

  “You work out?” I asked abruptly.

  He looked up and blinked, his brown eyes confused. “What?”

  I shook my head, mentally kicking myself. “Nothing.”

  We spent another five minutes with our heads down, working.

  The flash of headlights streaking across the patio broke my concentration. A car door slammed shut, followed by another.

  Voices drifted from the driveway. Dad was home. And he wasn’t alone. As usual.

  I felt Grayson’s stare on the side of my face.

  “My dad,” I explained.

  The outside gate opened. Dad and Dana passed in front of the blinds, carrying Whole Foods bags.

  They entered the doorway laughing, so caught up in each other they didn’t even notice us sitting at the table. Dad ushered her ahead of him, his hand on the small of her back.

  “And you’re going to be the man to teach me to love chicken mole?” Dana teased, tossing a head full of perfectly color-treated blond hair.

  “The way I prepare it? It will melt in your mouth. Trust me. It’s better than s—”

  “Oh!” Dana’s gaze landed on me. “Flor.” She said my name like she was surprised to see me. Like I didn’t live here. So annoying.

  But then lately she had been here enough that she might as well live here too.

  Her beautifully manicured hand fluttered to the front of my father’s shirt with practiced ease. She looked up at him as though they shared some inside joke. I could just imagine. Gross.

  “Flor, princess. You’re home.” Dad shifted the bags in his hands.

  “Yeah. I live here.”

  He chuckled, sharing a long glance with Dana. “We just thought you were out with your friends tonight.”

  Dad didn’t really know what I was doing these days. The first six months after Mom left, he wallowed in wine and work and overparented me. He started making sure I drank milk with every meal and packing my lunches for school. Elaborate bento boxes that he learned how to do online. No one had made my lunch since the fourth grade. And he cared about things like curfew and who I was dating and how short my skirts were. I was actually glad when he joined a dating service. I even encouraged him to do it! I wanted him distracted and a little less involved in my life.

  You know the adage “Be careful what you wish for”? Yeah. That.

  I never expected him to so fully throw himself into the dating scene. Or for the women he dated to be so young.

  I never expected that he would settle on one of them so soon or that she would only be eight years older than me. It was pretty gross.

  “It’s a school night.” I motioned to the laptop in front of me. “Got a test tomorrow.”

  “And who’s your friend?” he asked, but the question was more obligatory than interested. His gaze was already following Dana in her skinny jeans as she moved into the kitchen, her high-heeled boots clacking on the tile floor.

  “This is Grayson, my tutor.”

  “I didn’t know you needed a tutor.” Dad frowned, and I resisted pointing out that there was a lot going on in my life that he didn’t know about these days.

  Dana angled her head. “But your dad said you’re so smart.”

  Subtle. I smiled brightly at her, tapping my pencil on the table. “Guess he was wrong about that.”

  Dad cleared his throat. Slid another glance at Dana. Looking back at me, he lifted a grocery bag. “We were just going to make some dinner. Did you eat?”

  We again. When exactly did they become a we? Dana looked like she should be clubbing with other twenty-somethings rather than dating my fifty-year-old father.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Ah.” He nodded and moved into the kitchen, his manner much more subdued. Because I was here. He couldn’t be himself around me anymore. The himself that suddenly had a twenty-five-year-old girlfriend. My father had become a cliché. Who knew it could happen to him? To me?

  “What about your friend?” Dad looked at Grayson. “Are you hungry, Mason?”

  “Grayson,” I corrected.

  “No, thank you, sir.”

  “Such pretty manners.” Dana hummed in approval as she turned and opened a cabinet, stretching on her tiptoes, her ass on full display as she reached for wine glasses. Settling back down on her heels, she turned and bestowed her glossy-lipped smile over her shoulder at all of us . . . lingering, I couldn’t help noticing, on Grayson. “Whatcha working on?”

  I shot a look at Grayson, scowling. He didn’t seem affected by the ass flaunting. At least there was that. Not many eighteen-year-old guys could stand up to such enticement. I mean, my own father couldn’t, and he was fifty.

  “Math,” I supplied, trying to hide my irritability. I didn’t want her talking to my friends. Especially guy friends. Not that Grayson was a friend, exactly. But still.

  “Oh, I was never good with numbers,” she commented with an airy laugh.

  “Big shock,” I muttered under my voice.

  Grayson made a slight sound that could have been laughter. When I glanced at him, however, his expression was as bland as ever, focused on the screen of my laptop and the problem we’d been working on when Dad and Dana had walked in the door.

  Dad pulled up his playlist on the Bluetooth speaker and then started washing off the vegetables as Michael Bublé crooned on the air. I sighed.

  “Cab or chardonnay?” Dana asked, holding up two bottles.

  “The cab, please.”

  So they were pretty much going to conduct their date like we weren’t even in the room. Perfect.

  Grayson watched my father and Dana in the kitchen, and his expression cracked slightly, revealing the first hint of . . . something. Compassion, maybe, because he’d glimpsed the suck that was my home life. Even Willa didn’t get to see this. I didn’t bring her around anymore. I didn’t bring any of my friends around. None of them knew the truth of my reality . . . that I was alone all the time and Lean Cuisine and I were on a first-name basis. That home equaled loneliness.

  I felt Dana’s gaze intent on me before her voice rang out across the kitchen. “So, Flor. Is this your new boyfriend?”

  Once. One time she met Zach, and she still mentioned him every time I saw her.

  “No. Grayson is only helping me study.”

  “Is that what you call it these days?” She giggled over her glass of wine and sent a coy look to Dad.

  I rolled my eyes. We were sitting at a table with an open laptop and pages of math work in front of us. She was awful, but Dad doted on her in her Forever 21 clothes and Louboutin knockoffs.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. Five more minutes.

  “We’ll just stop for tonight.” I closed my laptop and reached for my bag on the chair beside me, taking out some money to pay him.
>
  “You sure?” He glanced at my father and Dana. “We can go into another room—”

  “For five minutes?” By the time we got settled in another room it’d be time for him to leave.

  “I can run a little late.”

  I stared at him for a long moment. Now he wanted to be nice to me? Heat crept up my face. It wasn’t compassion. He felt sorry for me. Pitied me. Because of my father and his jailbait girlfriend. He probably had great parents who did the whole home-cooked meal thing every night and attended all his award ceremonies.

  “That’s okay. I think I got this,” I lied.

  I grasped the material enough not to fail. Maybe. My stomach knotted. I needed to do a lot better than “not fail” considering I had a 64 average right now. I’d let things slide for too long. But shame and pride had me ready to show him the door even under threat of failing.

  There was a strict no-pass-no-play rule at school. If I failed, then I couldn’t play school soccer next month, and that would suck. Sure, I’d still have year-round club ball outside of school, and recruiters scouted there, but I was slated for captain this year. I had wanted to be captain of my varsity high school team since forever. I had to pass.

  We both stood.

  Dad and Dana were laughing as he chopped up some garlic—​but not nearly as oblivious as I thought, because right when we were about to step outside the door, Dana called out, “Bye-bye! It was nice meeting you, Gray! Looking forward to seeing you again.”

  Because she was so comfortable in her place in Dad’s life that she assumed she would see him again.

  “His name is Grayson,” I said before stepping out after him and shutting the door. I followed him through the gate. Mostly because I just needed to get out of the house for a few minutes and breathe air that Dad and Dana didn’t occupy. I walked with him down the driveway.

  “I have time Sunday afternoon,” he said.

  I nodded, relieved. We had weekly quizzes. It would be helpful. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  “Was that your stepmom?”

  “Dana?” I blew out a snorting laugh. “God, no.”

  “She seems . . . young.”

  “She’s twenty-five. My dad is fifty. Such a cliché, right?”

  He glanced at my house. Those glasses on his face actually suited him. Not everyone could pull off that look. “Guess clichés exist for a reason, right?”

  “Right.” I followed his gaze to my house. The oversize sconces lit the front of the rock edifice. “Think if my dad was a janitor she would be interested in him?”

  Grayson was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. My dad is a janitor.” He shrugged one shoulder. “My mom fell in love with him.”

  I closed my eyes in a long, pained blink. Well, I’d really stepped in it now. When would this night end? “God, Grayson. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I’m sure being a—”

  He suddenly smiled. His grin caught me off-guard. His teeth were blinding white. Long grooves, not quite dimples, carved either side of his mouth, making him look honest-to-God sexy. “I’m kidding, Flor. My dad works in construction.”

  I laughed in relief. “Nice one.” I folded my hands behind my back. “You got me. Still, I didn’t mean to imply there’s anything wrong with being—”

  “Relax. I get it.” He turned back to my house, and I didn’t sense that he was looking at it anymore. He was looking at what we’d left inside. My father and Dana, preparing chicken mole for two.

  He saw more than I wanted him to see, and my smile slipped away. I wanted him gone. Then I could retreat inside and try to make sense of my math on my own and ignore everything else.

  “Sunday?” I asked, handing him the thirty dollars I’d been holding.

  “Yeah. Does four work for you?”

  “Sure. I’ll be here.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, clearly reminding me that I had been late today.

  “I’ll be here,” I promised. “On time.”

  He nodded once. “See you then.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched as he climbed into his car. It was already getting chilly. I was going to have to start wearing leggings under my soccer shorts and my thick headband that shielded my ears.

  The holidays would be here soon. Thanksgiving. Christmas. I frowned, suddenly visualizing spending them with Dana. I hardly ever heard from Mom. Just random texts and a few phone calls. In her last text she’d said she was thinking about going to Australia for a few months. Not sure where that left me. I didn’t know if that was happening before the holidays or after. I wasn’t sure if she was even thinking about seeing me. She’d mentioned flying me out for Thanksgiving months ago, but I knew better than to rely on her.

  As Grayson pulled away from the curb, I lingered in the driveway and watched his taillights fade into the night, wishing I didn’t have to go back inside the house.

  And yet I knew it wouldn’t matter to anyone what I did. Whether I stayed out here or went inside, no one would care.

  GIRL CODE #3:

  Be okay with just being his friend.

  Willa

  ZACH was sitting in my driveway ten minutes before seven like every Friday.

  Tuesdays and Thursdays he went in early to use the weight room or meet with the trainer. On those days Mom or Flor gave me a ride, but the rest of the week I rode with him. Ever since he and Flor had gotten involved, those three days of the week had felt awkward as hell. At least for me. I’d actually considered taking the bus. If that wouldn’t have looked weird (and if the bus weren’t the seventh circle of hell), I would have.

  I hurried out of the house through the soupy air, the sound of a crying child chasing me. I hated that sound. Part of me longed to go back in the house and comfort Mia until she stopped crying. But then I would definitely be late. And Zach would be late too.

  I never used to be rushed in the mornings, but ever since Chloe and Mia moved in with us, my mornings were a blur of diapers and flying Cheerios while shouting at my sister to get out of bed and take care of Mia. Oh, yeah, and somewhere in all of that I tried to make myself halfway presentable.

  I climbed in next to Zach. “Hey. Thanks for waiting.”

  He leaned forward to look at something on my shirt. “You got a little something there.” He tapped at his shirt for illustration.

  Glancing down, I cringed at the stream of applesauce. “Ew.” So much for presentable.

  I opened his glove compartment, took out some fast-food napkins, and attempted to wipe the yellow glob off my maroon T-shirt. It was game day, so I was wearing my Madison Tigers T-shirt like everyone else would be. I wasn’t a big football fan, but Zach was on the team, so I tried to be supportive. Also, not wearing spirit wear on game days kind of made you conspicuous, and I was never a girl who liked to stand out from the crowd.

  “It’s not coming out,” I muttered as Zach backed out of the driveway.

  “No one will notice.”

  I shot him a look. “Really? It took you all of three seconds.”

  “Well, it was a big wet blob and smelled funny.” He grinned at me before looking back at the road. “It’s less wet now.”

  “But still there.”

  He laughed, his gray eyes glinting. “Cheer up. You don’t have to change a diaper for another eight hours.”

  “That doesn’t bother me.” It was my sister I resented. Hard to believe that five years ago she was homecoming queen and had a scholarship to Vanderbilt. Now she was this broken woman who could hardly be moved to care for her own child.

  I stared straight ahead at the misty morning. “So.” I turned to Zach. “Excited about the game?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  He was never big on talking about football . . . or really even himself. That made him pretty much the opposite of every guy I knew. As the varsity team’s starting kicker for the last two years he would be justified in a little bragging. I didn’t know much about sports, but everyone said he was good enough to play in col
lege. Maybe even beyond that.

  “I saw you had company yesterday,” he said.

  I nodded. It went without saying. He knew Flor’s and Jenna’s cars. “We were trying to study, but that proved impossible. Thanks to you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  I gave him a look. “You just broke up with my best friend.” The time to point out that they never should have gotten together in the first place had long since passed. If I’d said anything when they started dating, I would have looked jealous. Which I was. If I said something now, I would just look petty.

  Actually, when they started dating, I was all encouragement, worried how I would look if I wasn’t upbeat and happy about my two best friends potentially falling for each other. Flor actually asked me to talk to Zach on her behalf in the beginning. And I did. I didn’t see how I couldn’t and not expose my own infatuation with Zach.

  I really did want to be a good friend . . . a good person. Only in this, being good meant I couldn’t be honest.

  I shook my head and felt the bun on the top of my head start to slip. I flipped the visor down. Staring at my reflection, I redid my hair into something only slightly better. “Why did y’all break up, anyway? You still haven’t told me.” There wasn’t much he didn’t tell me.

  He shrugged and flexed his fingers along the steering wheel. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Ask Flor about that.”

  I let out a breath. I had asked. She’d only admitted to me that she’d messed up. No more than that.

  “Look,” I started. “I never butted in your love life before—”

  “Yes.” He glanced at me pointedly, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Thank you for that—”

  “But it’s a hard thing to stay out of it when everyone is talking about it, Zach.”

  He expelled a breath. “At the moment, I don’t have a love life.”

  “Really?” I arched an eyebrow dubiously.

  He frowned at me, clearly catching my meaning. “Didn’t take you for someone to listen to rumors.”

  I continued to stare at him, letting my eyes do the accusing.

  Finally, he released a rough laugh. “I’ve been single for like ten minutes. I’m not diving into anything with anyone.”