Love Me, Love Me Not (Incongruent Figures #1)

by S. M. Koz

  “No, it’s not a big deal.”

  “It kind of is. If they’re preventing us from being together, it’s the least they can do.”

  “I’m not sure they’d approve of your intended use.”

  I smile again. They don’t monitor my phone, but I can only imagine what they’d think if they happened to come across texts of us talking chess. “I’m positive they wouldn’t approve,” I say. “No texting or pictures. Just talking.”

  “Which we can do without the phone.”

  “Not between periods at school. Or before practice. Or late at night when I’m supposed to be in my room and you in yours.”

  “How long have your parents been gone?” she asks, abruptly ending the phone conversation.

  I check my watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

  She lays her arm on the table and then rests her head on it, looking at me.

  “I think we still have a while,” I inform her.

  She nods.

  “You don’t have to wait. This doesn’t involve you.”

  “Do you want me here?”

  “Yeah, but that’s kind of selfish.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

  I scoot my chair closer until our legs are touching. She smiles and wraps her foot around my ankle. It’s not much, but I’ll take it. I lower my arm to the table and rest my head on it like she’s doing, facing her.

  “I’m sorry about Mr. Bubbles,” she says, surprising me.

  “How do you know about him?” I ask. I don’t remember ever mentioning him to her.

  “Your dad told me during our date.”

  “You two talked about everything, huh?”

  She nods from her horizontal position. “It was fun.”

  Eventually, her eyelids lower. I continue staring at her face—the delicate dip at the top of her upper lip, her pixie nose, her high cheekbones that cast a shadow on her cheeks, and her eyelashes that seem to go on forever. I’m falling for this girl hard and wonder how this whole baby situation would play out if it were with her and not Michelle. I know she’d want to have it, but I still wouldn’t give up my dream of college. In a way, it probably would be worse because I’m happy to let Michelle have the baby and live her own life, but I wouldn’t be so willing to give Hailey that same freedom. I’d want her in my life and near me, but there’s no way the two of us could raise a child by ourselves while I’m in college.

  I must drift off to sleep as well because the next time I check my watch, it’s been ninety-two minutes. I contemplate leaving, when I hear the door to the library open. Classical music drifts through the living room and into the kitchen only moments before my parents appear.

  They sit opposite me.

  “Do you want Hailey here for this?” Dad asks, nodding in her direction.

  “Yes.”

  The voices must wake her because she stirs, her eyes fluttering open. When she sees my parents, she snaps upright, removing her foot from around my ankle and scooting her chair sideways to put a little distance between us.

  “What happened?” Dad asks.

  “Sex.”

  His jaw clenches at my snide reply. “I thought we taught you to be more responsible.”

  “It was the result of …. user error.”

  “User error? Condoms aren’t that complicated.”

  “No, but apparently birth control pills are.”

  “You made her be the responsible one? What kind of man are you? How many times have I told you to take responsibility?”

  “Every time we talked about sex.”

  “And?” he asks, his eyes bulging and his hands held out to his side like I must be the stupidest person in the world.

  “I guess I’m a first-class idiot.”

  “No,” Mom says, pushing Dad’s hands down. “You’re not an idiot. You made a mistake. It happens.” She glares at Dad and then turns back to me. “We didn’t realize you and Michelle were dating.”

  “We weren’t.”

  “Oh,” she whispers, looking to her hands in her lap.

  “I assume that will be the same once the baby is born?” Dad asks.

  “Correct.”

  “So, you impregnate one girl you have no interest in and then a few weeks later start sleeping with your foster sister? What has gotten into you?”

  “She’s not my sister and we’re not sleeping together. Trust me, I’m done with sex for a long time.”

  “Why Michelle?” Mom asks.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We’ve got all the time in the world,” Dad says, leaning back in his chair. “Take as long as you need.”

  “It was convenient.” I’m not about to tell him the truth.

  “That doesn’t sound long at all. That sounds like an excuse from a horny teenager who put a few minutes of pleasure above the best interests of both himself and a good friend.”

  “Gil!” Mom yells, glaring at him again.

  “It’s okay,” I mumble. “He’s right. It was stupid. I made a mistake and I’ll pay for it the rest of my life.”

  Hailey reaches for my hand under the table and I gladly give it to her. This is the part I was dreading and she knows it.

  “If she decides to have the baby, what will your role be?”

  “Mostly financial.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Financial? You realize we support you, right?”

  “I have Granddad’s trust fund. I got access when I turned eighteen. And I can get a job.”

  “Honey, how are you going to work, go to college, and still play football?” Mom asks.

  I shrug because it does sound overwhelming and I’ve been wondering the same thing.

  “And how does Hailey fit into all this?” Dad asks, looking in her direction. “How do you feel about him having a baby with another woman?”

  She licks her lips and clears her throat before answering. “Well … I feel like it’s really bad luck—“

  “You mean a bad decision on his part.”

  “Not really. He didn’t do anything different than what ninety percent of teens do. And they were more responsible than most, but …”

  When she doesn’t continue, he asks her, “Have you and Michelle talked about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Okay. It’s weird, but I kind of feel like it made us a little closer.”

  “So, you still want a relationship with my son despite him having a baby with Michelle?”

  She nods.

  “This is like a goddamned soap opera,” he says, standing up.

  “I can help Michelle,” Mom says, reaching across the table to hold my hand that lays there. “One or two days a week, so you don’t have to spend so much of your trust fund on child care and she can still finish school.”

  “No, I’m not ruining your lives, too.”

  “Honey, that’s my grandchild. I want to know him and spend time with him. Obviously, this isn’t the way we would have planned for things to turn out, but it is what it is and I’m going to love that little boy or girl as much as I would if he or she were born ten years later when you were happily married.”

  She squeezes my fingers and lets go. “Is it okay if I call Dawn?” she asks, referring to Michelle’s mom.

  “Tomorrow.” I still have to give Michelle the green light to reveal my identity.

  Mom stands and joins Dad where he’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. She hugs him and then he leaves without another word.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper too late. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  Chapter 23

  BRAD

  “So, you’ve decided?” I ask Michelle. She’s sitting on the couch in my basement and looks the best she’s looked in six weeks. Between the shock of pregnancy and the morning sickness, she’s had a rough time and I’m sure it’s only going to get worse. It makes me feel guilty that I’ve had it relatively easy, other than telling my parents and being smack in the mi
ddle of the rumor mill. But even the rumor mill didn’t turn out to be as bad as I thought it would be. While people thought less of Michelle for what happened, no one’s opinion of me seemed to change. It really sucks to be a girl.

  “I’m having the baby,” she says with conviction.

  “Okay.”

  “That’s it? You’re not going to pressure me into an abortion?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you want some ginger ale?” I ask, walking to the fridge.

  “Sure.”

  I pull out a bottle and take it to her. It’s the only thing that has combatted her morning sickness, which apparently doesn’t only happen in the morning. Mom now keeps our basement fridge stocked with at least two dozen bottles. She’s also started supplying Michelle with books on everything you could possibly want to know about pregnancy. All in all, Mom’s adapted to this very well and doesn’t make me feel like a complete failure as a son. Dad, well, that’s another story. Dinners are quiet. We talk about the essentials like when my football games are and if I need money for school, but our closeness is gone. We don’t joke anymore. I guess when he told Hailey parents should be supportive of teenage pregnancy, he meant other parents, not himself.

  “Have you been taking the prenatal vitamins?” I ask Michelle, sitting down next to her.

  “Yes.”

  “Every day?”

  “Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes. I’m not trying to be an ass; I want to remind her since she seems to have a hard time remembering that sort of thing. If I’m having a kid, I want him or her to be healthy.

  I’m not going to lie. This whole thing is fucked up. I’m trying to be nice to Michelle and support her and help her out any way I can, but at the same time make it clear that my heart belongs to Hailey, not her. I think she gets it. I wouldn’t say she’s thrilled by it, but she seems to be accepting of it, and she and Hailey have actually been talking more and more lately. We definitely make a strange trio, but so far it’s working.

  “Can I take you to your appointment this week?” I ask.

  “You’ve got practice.”

  “It’s okay. Coach said I could go.” Telling him was almost as bad as telling Dad. He’s like a second father to me and I knew he’d be disappointed. Luckily, he responded much better and is trying to work with me so I can do what I have to do while still helping our team make the playoffs and catching the eye of recruiters. I’ve now got three schools interested—Duke, Stanford, and ECU—but they could change their minds if I don’t end the season strong.

  After taking a sip of soda, she asks, “You really want to go?”

  “Yes. I told you I’d be supportive.”

  “What’s Hailey think?”

  She was the one who suggested I go to the appointment, but I don’t want to tell Michelle that. Instead, I say, “She’s fine with it.”

  “Okay, sure then. I’ll tell my mom she’s off the hook.”

  “Brad? Michelle?” Mom yells down the stairs. She knows Michelle came over to tell me her decision, and she’s likely been waiting up there on pins and needles to hear.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Are you done talking?”

  “She’s having the baby!” I yell.

  Rapid footsteps travel down the stairs. She rushes into the basement and wraps Michelle in a bear hug.

  “Wait here for one second,” she says, then she runs to the guest bedroom. Moments later, she emerges with three large shopping bags stuffed to the brim.

  “I didn’t want to give you any of this until you decided, but I’ve been picking up a few things here and there, just in case,” she says, pulling out item after item. There are clothes and stuffed animals and diapers and bottles and every kind of baby crap you can think of.

  “Oh, this is my favorite,” she says, passing a yellow outfit with ducks to Michelle. “It will work for a boy or a girl.”

  “Mom,” I interrupt.

  “Oh, and look at this. It’s called a belly band. They didn’t have these when I was pregnant, but it’s genius. It holds up your pants when you can’t button them anymore.”

  “Mom,” I try again.

  “And here are some shoes. Aren’t they adorable? I know they’re kind of girly, but they were on sale and I couldn’t pass them up. If you have a boy, we’ll donate them to Goodwill.”

  “Mom!” I yell, grabbing her hand before she can pull anything else out of the bag. “Get a grip! The baby won’t be here for another seven months. You can’t keep shopping like this the entire time.”

  “Oh, this is cute,” Michelle says, pulling a blanket from a bag and totally ignoring me.

  Mom tugs her hand from mine, reaches into another bag, and replies, “You can never have too many burp clothes.”

  “What’s this?” Michelle asks, holding up what looks like another blanket.

  “It’s a nursing cover. I almost didn’t get it, but I loved the colors. It’s Patriot green and yellow, so you can use it at football and basketball games next year.”

  “I love it,” Michelle says, already looking at the next thing in the bag closest to her.

  “I’m going upstairs,” I say, giving up. They either don’t hear me or don’t care because they continue their oohing and aahing over the baby items until I make it to the top of the steps where I run right straight into Hailey.

  “Sorry,” I say, grabbing her arm, so she doesn’t fall. “Where are you headed so fast?”

  “To find you. Can Brittany and I use your phone or computer for a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “She wants to show me a video of her band from YouTube. Some fan posted it after last weekend’s show.”

  “No way.”

  “Crazy, right?”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it to her, then follow her through the living room and up the stairs.

  “Michelle’s having the baby.”

  Hailey stops mid-step and turns around to face me. “How do you feel about that?”

  I shrug. I kind of expected it all along, so it’s not a surprise. “Fine,” I say. “Mom’s thrilled. She’s already been shopping.”

  “This is … exciting,” she says.

  “It’s something.”

  “It sure is.”

  She turns around and continues upstairs, although at a slightly slower pace than before. “Are you okay?” I ask to her back.

  She glances over her shoulder and says, “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because the guy who wants to be your boyfriend can’t be and he’s having a baby with another girl and giving her lots of attention right now, but can’t even hold your hand?”

  “Just that?”

  “Yeah, just that.”

  She stops again and faces me. She’s one step higher than me, but her forehead still only reaches my chin. “I’ll get my time, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then, I’ll be patient.” She cranes her neck to look past me and around the bottom landing. Then, totally surprising me, she lowers her hands to my shoulders and her lips to mine in a very non-brotherly way, tongue and all. I respond by inching closer and trying to wrap my arms around her, but she darts away before I can do it.

  “That’s to keep you interested,” she says with a smirk and then turns around and skips up the remaining stairs.

  The kiss didn’t last more than a few seconds, but damn if it didn’t have an effect. I adjust my pants and shake my head. She knows exactly what to do to keep me interested. Five and half more months.

  I stroll into her room a few moments later and find her and Brittany on the bed, staring at my phone and giggling.

  “Oh my God,” Hailey says, pointing at the screen. “You look so different! What are you wearing?!”

  “My stage clothes.”

  “You look like Katy Perry!”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I’ve got to see this,” I say,
hopping onto the bed between the girls.

  Sure enough, Brittany’s there in a skin tight, bright pink and purple outfit, dancing and singing while two other girls from school play the drums and guitar. They’re actually not too bad and my foot begins tapping along to the beat without me realizing it.

  “I don’t know how you do that,” Hailey says. “I’d be so embarrassed being up there in front of everyone.”

  “Nah. It’s a rush. All the energy. All the noise. It’s amazing. You should do it someday.”

  “Yeah, right,” Hailey snorts.

  “Seriously. It’d be good for you. Get you out of your shell. Build up some confidence.”

  “I can’t sing.”

  “You can dance, though. I saw you at Homecoming.”

  “Umm … not like that,” she says, her eyes wide.

  Brittany stares at Hailey, apparently deep in thought.

  “What?” Hailey asks, blushing from the scrutiny.

  “We’re playing at the foster parent appreciation party next week. You’re joining us.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. I’ll get a few more friends together and you’ll be the backup dancers.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Brad?” Brittany asks.

  “Will she wear something tight and have moves like that?” I ask, pointing to the screen.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She definitely needs to do it.”

  “Brad!” Hailey yells, smacking my arm.

  “Sorry, but I’ve got to take what I can get. If I can’t touch you, then I deserve to at least stare at you as you shake your ass.”

  “I’m not shaking my butt in front of everyone.”

  “It’s the foster parent appreciation party,” Brittany says. “It’s not like there will be anyone from school there. Plus, those people expect absolutely nothing from us, so they’ll be impressed with whatever we do. It really is the best place for you to step outside your comfort zone.”

  “I don’t need to step outside my comfort zone.”

  “I think you do,” I say, backing up Brittany.

  “Why?”

  “It will be good for you. You’re stepping away from your old life, making a new life. It’s time to do something different and fun. Be daring, but in a totally safe way.”

  “Would you do this?” she asks me.