Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1)

by Laura Clark

  "So, did you give Trevor Maddox my number?" I ask with a bit more accusation in my tone than I had planned on having.

  "Yeah. Why? Was I not supposed to do that? I thought your parents were good friends?"

  "No, I just got a text from him, and was wondering how he got my number, is all."

  "When did he text you?"

  "This morning. It was to thank me, for introducing him to all my friends last night. It was really early, like crazy early." I purposely do not tell her about his text from last night. There is no need to go there, especially since I don't really understand the meaning behind it, myself.

  "Yeah. He told me he runs every morning and that it's better if he does it really early, before it gets too hot."

  Thank you, Avery. I am now imagining Trevor shirtless and all sweaty, running in nothing but a pair of jogging shorts. This stirs something in my belly as my face heats up. What is wrong with me? Why am I thinking about my best friend's man in this way? Wait a minute. Is he my best friend's man or not? I need to find out what the deal is.

  "So . . . ." I draw out the o dramatically, the same way Avery often does.

  "So, what?" she asks innocently. She is probably batting her eyelashes.

  "So, you two were a little chummy last night."

  "Oh, we were just hanging out."

  "Hmmmm," I say. I am of course fishing for more, but she seems hell-bent on keeping me in the dark.

  After a moment of silence, she finally sighs dramatically before responding. "Trevor's cool." She says this casually, as if it means nothing.

  I am not satisfied, so I push her for more. Finally, she admits that she "might have a small crush on him," and "Hello, have you looked at him?" I am not convinced it is as casual as she is pretending it is. However, after several unsuccessful attempts to get her to reveal more, I finally decide to let it go. After all, I am her best friend. She'll tell me when she's ready.

  After getting off the phone, I shoot Allie a quick text, but I don't tell her about Sam. I just explain to her that I don't think Devon and I would work well as a couple. Hopefully, Avery knows to keep a lid on it for now. Then again, this is Avery we are talking about. I'd better text her too, just to make sure she doesn't accidentally spill the beans to half our school. The last thing I need right now, is for my brother to find out about Sam and me from someone else.

  I squeeze in a quick shower, and even put on some makeup before going downstairs. Normally, I would stumble down there with my out-of-control, frizzy hair all over the place, wearing no makeup, and with my crumpled pajamas still on. I want to look good for Sam, though. I notice the guest bedroom door is open, which makes my heart flutter anxiously.

  The aroma of bacon and coffee hits me, as I bounce happily down each step.

  Mom is flipping pancakes while Kyle sets the table. "Good morning, sweetie. How was the party?" she asks me.

  "Fun. Thanks again for letting my friends come over," I say casually.

  "Of course. Thanks for cleaning everything up. That sure was nice of Sam to help you," she says while flashing me an approving smile. I can't help but wonder if she would still be so keen on Sam if she knew what else he was doing.

  "What time did everyone leave? How late were you up? What time did you get to bed?" She doesn't let me answer the first question before she moves on to the next. It makes me wonder just how many cups of coffee she has had this morning.

  She piles the last of the pancakes on top of two tall, teetering stacks. When I look around the counter, I notice she has also made bacon, eggs, and hash browns. There are cinnamon rolls, fresh fruit, and a bowl full of ice with an assortment of flavored yogurt cups. It almost looks like a restaurant-style breakfast buffet. There is certainly enough food here to feed an army of people.

  "I don't know. It was late. Mom, why is there so much food? Are we expecting guests for breakfast?" I ask, as my eyes rake over the gluttony of food selections.

  "Actually, we are. I invited the Maddoxes to join us for breakfast. I was going to cook anyway, since Kyle and Sam are home. I figured they could use a nice home-cooked meal since they've been pent up in that stuffy hotel for the past week." She says home like Sam actually lives here, and this is his house, too.

  Wait a sec. Did she just say the Maddoxes are coming over? As in Trevor Maddox is coming over here, like now? This thought sends me into a panic. I wonder if he has read my texts yet . . . . I take a deep breath. Maybe he isn't even coming with his parents. After all, he didn't mention it in his text. I look at the kitchen table to see how many places Kyle has set. Sure enough, all eight chairs have plates, silverware, napkins, and glasses by them.

  I take a deep breath. I'm not so sure I like the idea of having Trevor and Sam sitting at the same table. It's just weird. It shouldn't be, though. I mean, why can't I hang around my sort-of boyfriend, and my sort-of friend who is a guy, at the same time? Even if they are both ridiculously hot, and they both make my heart beat faster. That's not strange, right?

  "Good morning, Lays." This is my dad's nickname for me. Yes, like the potato chips. Dad has a very corny, old-school sense of humor. He still makes me laugh even if it is cheesy and obvious, but I love that about him.

  Being the smart ass that he is, Kyle says, "Yeah, Ruffles. Glad you could finally join the rest of the human population." He nudges me with his elbow, as he moves past me to grab the orange juice out of the refrigerator.

  Dad pours some coffee into a mug, drops two sugar cubes and some cream in, and hands it to me. It's just how I like it. I smile.

  "You look like you could use this." He smiles at me warmly, while pouring himself another cup.

  "Thanks, Dad. You are the best." I yawn, realizing how tired I still am. I wonder if the dark circles under my eyes are showing.

  "Where's the love, pop? You didn't pour me my own mug," Kyle whines at Dad, while mock pouting. Dad rolls his eyes, and makes his way to the kitchen table without bothering to acknowledge Kyle.

  "You don't even drink coffee, dork." I tease him, and stick my tongue out.

  Before I have a chance to dash upstairs and touch up my makeup, Sam saunters into the kitchen. His crystal-clear blue eyes are sparkling in the sunlight, and his damp, sandy-blond hair is tousled to the side. A big smile spreads across his face when he sees me. He discreetly winks at me before turning his attention to my mom.

  I run my fingers across my lips, trying to remember what it feels like to kiss him. I try my best to fight the heat that is building on my face, but I'm pretty sure it's too late. My cheeks are probably ketchup by now.

  "Good morning, Mrs. P. You made all this delicious food just for me?" Sam asks my mom sarcastically. Mom rolls her eyes, and playfully tosses a potholder at him.

  "As much as I love you Sam, this is not just for you. We are having company." She snatches the potholder glove back from him and slips it onto her hand.

  Sam looks at me curiously and mouths, "Who?"

  Before I can answer, my mom explains to Sam who the Maddoxes are, and why she has invited them for breakfast. She doesn't mention Trevor specifically, but then again, why would she?

  When the doorbell rings, my stomach muscles tighten. I look down at my hands, which are now visibly shaking. Why am I so nervous? Kyle jumps up to answer the door, which is a relief. I do not want to appear any more desperate than I already do. After that stupid text of mine from this morning, Trevor probably thinks I like him, and want to be more than just friends.

  Sam settles into the barstool next to me with his own coffee mug. "Hey you," he says softly, nudging my knee lightly with his.

  I look up to see if my parents are watching, but they aren't. Thankfully, they have no idea what is going on between us. It's kind of exciting to have our sort-of relationship be our own little secret. It makes it feel kind of wrong, even though I know it really isn't.

  We're only two years apart. I will be seventeen in a month. If I weren't still in high school, nobody would bat an eyelash at the idea of us
being together. In fact, my mother loves Sam so much that I'd bet she'd be thrilled to see us together. That is, after I graduate from high school.

  I think about how Kyle once told me that most high school relationships don't last through college. Does that mean we are destined to fail? I have always thought of Sam as someone I could end up marrying, way down the road, the after college part of the road. What if we weren't supposed to find each other yet? Did I just spoil any chance I ever had of becoming Mrs. Woodson?

  I shake my head. Here I go again, filling in the blanks, writing a future when the present has yet to be defined. Avery lives life in the moment and doesn't over think every little thing the way I do. I'd really like to be more like her, and just let things be without over-analyzing every little detail.

  "Why are you shaking your head?" asks Sam curiously.

  His voice startles me a little, pulling me out of my little daydream, and back into the present. I had somehow managed to tune out everything and everyone around me. I didn't even realize that the Maddoxes were standing in our kitchen.

  "Laila, you-hoo, earth to Laila?" Kyle waves his hand in front of me and snaps his fingers.

  I sigh with frustration and glare at him.

  "Are you even going to say hi?" he asks, with a snarky half smile sneaking on his face.

  "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Maddox, Trevor . . . Hi. I'm sorry. I guess I'm still trying to wake up." My eyes spot the full pot of coffee in my mom's hands. "I think I may be ready for another cup," I say while holding my empty mug up in the air. I flash a quick smile at Mr. and Mrs. Maddox before looking up at Trevor hesitantly.

  Trevor's eyebrows perk up a little. The corners of his lips turn up just enough to reveal his dimples. His parents smile at me warmly, before exchanging a look with each other that I can't read.

  "Late night after we left, Patterson?" Trevor asks me. He keeps alternating glances between Sam and me. My eyes narrow at him. He doesn't know that our sort-of relationship is secret. I feel like my throat is closing in on me as the panic sets in. What if he says something before we have a chance to tell my family?

  "Something like that," I mumble. "I mean I was up late reading after the party so . . . ."

  It wasn't a complete lie. I mean I did read a little, after I spent God only knows how long, kissing Sam. My lips still almost burn when I think about how much we kissed.

  Trevor nods in a kind of snarky way like he knows the truth. He looks irritated, and rubs his temples, as if he suddenly has a headache. Why does he get to be the one who's irritated? Shouldn't I be the one who is annoyed? What a jerk for even asking that in front everyone. He seems to know just how to get under my skin.

  Sam discreetly places his hand on my thigh under the bar, in search for my hand. When he finds it, he gently squeezes, as if to tell me not to worry. He always seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. I don't think anyone notices this gesture, except for maybe Trevor. Okay, there is no maybe about it. Trevor definitely saw it, and his eyes seem to be burning mad now. What on earth did I ever do to him? Again, I should be the one who's mad at him, not the other way around.

  Trevor excuses himself to use the restroom while everyone else gathers around the table. Sam sits to my left. Mom sits to my right with Dad next to her. That leaves Kyle on the other side, across from Sam. Mr. and Mrs. Maddox are to Sam’s left, across from my parents. There is one open spot, directly across from me, in between Kyle and Mrs. Maddox. Trevor isn't gone long, but he seems much calmer when he returns.

  "Sam, why don't you sit next to Kyle so Trevor can sit by Laila?" Mom says this, as if it were a given. She can be so embarrassing. Sam sighs under his breath, but he jumps up right away, because he'd do anything for my mom.

  "No problem, Mrs. P." He flashes her a big Sammy smile, as he holds the chair out politely for Trevor. This is just great. Someone, please shoot me now. Can this breakfast be over already, so Sam and I can find a secret closet somewhere? Just thinking about being alone with Sam, in a closet, makes me suddenly feel so hot that I have to fan myself.

  "Are you embarrassed to sit by me, Patterson?" Trevor whispers to me playfully. I look at him as if I have no clue what he is talking about, because I have no idea why he would say such a thing. Cocky much? He clears his throat and swallows hard.

  "It's just . . . your cheeks, they're just a little red. I thought . . . I was just playing around I didn't mean . . . ." His voice is soft enough that only I can hear him. Thank God. He looks at me one more time and then, shakes his head. "Never mind."

  Even worse, now he thinks he just made me blush. I silently curse my Technicolor cheeks, for yet again, betraying me at the most inopportune time.

  "So Trevor, will you try out for any sports teams at Westbrook High?" Mom asks in an attempt to get the conversation flowing.

  "I'll probably try out for the varsity soccer team this summer, and then hopefully, the baseball team in the spring. I played both at my school in Philly," Trevor says politely.

  "Trevor was an all-star athlete at his school in Philadelphia. He was the best . . . ."

  Trevor cuts Mrs. Maddox off before she can finish her sentence. "Ma, cut it out. I was not an all-star. You're embarrassing me."

  He calls his mom Ma. How cute is that?

  "Well, I'm sorry. He really was quite good."

  Trevor's warning glare hushes her for a moment. Then she just rolls her eyes, and is able to get in few words before he can stop her again. "He is particularly good at baseball."

  He sighs before downing the rest of his orange juice.

  "So, are you involved in any sports or activities at school, Laila?" Mrs. Maddox asks me, trying to redirect the conversation in order to appease her son.

  "I do theater mostly, but next year I'm joining the newspaper staff," I answer after carefully chewing and swallowing my food.

  "Newspaper? That sounds interesting." For whatever reason, this seems to pique Mr. Maddox's curiosity. Up to this point, he has said very little.

  "Yeah, it is. I'm really excited about it. Our goal is to convert The Panther Chronicle from paper to a strictly online resource."

  Mr. and Mrs. Maddox exchange looks, as if they are both either impressed or surprised.

  "That sounds like quite an undertaking. I am curious, though. Why not do both?" Mr. Maddox asks me.

  "We thought about it, but if we switch to online only, it will save a great deal, with printing costs being what they are. There would be no ink, and of course, no paper to buy." I feel like everyone is suddenly staring at me. "Plus, no paper means less trees will be killed."

  "That sounds like a very economically sound decision," Mr. Maddox replies in an approving tone.

  I nod. "In the process, I hope we can renovate the whole look and vibe of the Chronicle," I add.

  "What was wrong with the old paper?" Trevor asks me.

  "Nothing. It was just kind of stale and predictable. Nobody takes it seriously, but I think it could be really cool. We want the students to want to read it, instead of using it as scrap paper for their projects. I think it has the potential to be amazing."

  I am surprised by how much I've said. I guess it's kind of hard to mask your enthusiasm when you're truly passionate about something. It makes me wonder how long Sam and I will have to hide our relationship, or whatever this is that is going on between us.

  "That is pretty awesome, lil sis. That paper needs a makeover desperately. Nobody read it back when we were there, did they Kyle?" Sam has a surprised look on his face as he says this. It's as if he is looking at me like he just learned something impressive about me that he didn't know before. He nods his head in my direction and smiles, which of course, just completely unravels me. It always does.

  I almost didn't even notice that he had called me lil sis. To tell you the truth, it didn't really bother me this time. I guess he has finally proven, once and for all, he does not in any way, shape, or form, think of me like a little sister. My face heats up again as I recall the way he first kis
sed me. I take another deep breath and let the air out slowly, trying my best to simmer down.

  "That sounds like something you would enjoy doing, Trevor. Do you know what kind of time commitment is involved to participate, or if there are any additional requirements, Laila?" asks Mrs. Maddox. I can tell she is a little on the over-bearing side. Trevor doesn't seem to mind this time, because he is looking at me, waiting for me to answer.

  "I think it's kind of a we'll take all the help we can get kind of thing. We don't exactly have volunteers beating down the doors to get involved. The editor will be there every day, and the rest of us will contribute what we can, when we can. There are a lot of people on the newspaper staff who are already involved in other activities. The editor says it always works out, though. They get the job done. The only requirement is to take Mr. Fredrick's Journalism class. As long as you are enrolled in it for the fall semester, or have previously taken it, you're in."

  I look at Trevor and hesitate before asking. "Do you want the editor's number, Trevor? I think Brandon would be happy to add you to the list. Just give him a buzz. Let him know that you will most likely play soccer and baseball. I mean that is if you are interested, of course. He's really good about working around people's schedules." I don't know why I am being so helpful and so forthcoming with information. Do I really want Trevor to be on the newspaper staff with me? This might end up being a little too much togetherness, when I think about how easily he riles me up.

  "Yeah. That would be really cool. Thanks." His dimples are pulled in tightly across his golden cheeks, and his green eyes are locked with mine. His eyes linger a little bit longer than they should. He seems very sincere, but it is making me uneasy, knowing that Sam is sitting on the other side of the table watching this whole exchange.

  Does Sam see the way Trevor is looking at me? I glance his way and sure enough, Sam's eyes are boring into Trevor. He noticed and it is very clear that he is not very happy about it. Things are starting to get sticky. It is hard to fight back another sigh. Why is there still so much food on everybody's plates? This has to be the world's longest breakfast.