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

by S. M. Koz

  As we stroll the pathway back to the building, I say, “We did good for over a month.”

  “Exactly. Our self-control to this point is something to be proud of.”

  “I don’t want to distract you from football right now. You need to focus on the tournament.”

  “That’ll be over in a few weeks. Then, I’ll have plenty of free time after school.”

  “I don’t want to be kicked out.”

  “We’ll be secretive.”

  “You think we can do it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Play chess?”

  He stops and looks at me. “No, I’m not ready for that. Maybe just … checkers?”

  I laugh at him. “What exactly is checkers?”

  “Chess minus the one thing that runs the risk of pregnancy.”

  “Got it.”

  When we get back inside, I start to head to the bathroom to change, but remember I have his jacket. “Brad!” I call. He turns around as I’m removing it.

  “Keep it,” he says.

  “No, I have a bag with clothes in the bathroom. I’ll be fine.”

  “I didn’t mean just for now. It’s yours.”

  I pause. He wants me to keep his varsity jacket? That’s something guys occasionally give their girlfriends to wear, not something they give to them permanently. And I’m not even his girlfriend.

  “I can’t,” I say, pulling my arm out. “You earned this. You deserve it. Plus, it’s not like I can wear it around.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Seriously, Brad. It’s yours.”

  “Seriously, Hailey,” he says, mimicking me. “I want you to have it. It’s a sign of what’s to come.”

  “But it’s a status symbol when you wear it. It’s a big deal.”

  “I’ve worn it for three years. Everyone knows I lettered in football as a sophomore. I don’t need it anymore. It’s time it found a new home.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He starts to turn around, but stops himself. “Unless your hesitation is a result of you thinking it’s some lame, chauvinistic gesture on my part.”

  “No, of course not. It’s sweet,” I reply. I can’t imagine someone thinking anything but that.

  “Good. Then, it’s settled.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. I think we’re making progress.”

  “How’s that?”

  “This is the first thing you’ve let me give you. You’re starting to see me as a boyfriend. That’s good.”

  “I’ve let you give me things before,” I counter.

  “Like what?”

  “Like …” I’m stumped because he’s right. I never let him pay for anything when we go out.

  “Exactly. You never let me buy you ice cream. You wouldn’t let me buy you that clearance-priced fleece. Or a phone. Oh, and what about that movie we went to? I couldn’t even get you popcorn there.”

  “Lunch and a flower!” I interrupt. “You bought me lunch and a flower on our date.”

  “Okay, fine. Two tiny things. I hope this jacket is a sign that once we’re really together, you’ll let me give you things.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a southern gentleman, remember? We don’t believe in halfsies.”

  “What if I’m a progressive feminist?”

  “Then, we’re going to have a huge problem. Are you?”

  I’d like to think I am, but since this conversation is causing me to smile uncontrollably and I’m giddy to have his jacket, the answer has to be no. I’ve always wanted the hero to stroll in on a white horse, or in this case, a fancy BMW, and save me from my miserable existence. That probably makes me shallow, although hopefully it’s more that I’m a hopeless romantic. Honestly, I don’t care about the BMW. He could have a beat up clunker as long as he treated me the way he does—with respect, like I’m important, like I might someday amount to something.

  “I don’t think it will be a problem,” I finally reply with a sheepish grin.

  “Good. I’m hungry. I’ll meet you in there.”

  Brad heads off to pick up pizza. I join him and his parents at a table a few minutes later with the jacket stuffed in my bag. As much as I want to wear it, I know that would be a bad idea.

  Things are tense like usual between Gil and Brad, but Gigi, Brad and I have a nice conversation about my dance training. When we’re done eating, Gigi reaches into her purse. “Our vacation tickets arrived in the mail this morning,” she says, laying an envelope on the table between us.

  Brad picks it up, studies the return address, and then slides his finger under the flap on the back. He unfolds the contents and stares at them for a few seconds.

  “Caribbean cruise,” he says, lowering the documents to the table.

  “Yes, we decided to go with your first choice.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve had a rough couple months. You deserve a little well-earned R&R on a beach.”

  He glances to Gil, who says nothing, but who is also not scowling. It’s an improvement.

  “We have two connecting rooms. Hailey and I will bunk together and you’ll be with your father.”

  Brad rolls his eyes at that news. “Fun times.”

  I ignore his sarcasm and focus on Gigi. “I’m going?”

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t have to take me. I can go to respite.” I’m not thrilled about spending a week with people I don’t know, but I certainly can’t expect the Campbells to take me on their family vacation.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re part of the family.”

  “I’m going to the Caribbean?” I ask, dumbfounded. I can’t believe they want to take me.

  “Yes. Grand Cayman, Jamaica, and Honduras. I’ve already received your birth certificate from Sherry and permission from the judge for you to travel internationally. We’re all set.”

  I’ve never been out of the US, let alone the state, let alone my county. I’m shocked they’re taking me with them. As guilty as I feel about how much this must have cost them, I can’t hide my enthusiasm. I’m traveling to someplace warm and exotic. I’ll get to see the ocean!

  “I’m going to the Caribbean!” I shriek, bouncing in my seat and tugging on Brad’s arm.

  Gigi smiles and says, “We leave in four weeks, the day after the state championship.”

  Chapter 25

  HAILEY

  “How was therapy?” Gigi asks, as I climb into her SUV.

  “Good.”

  I’ve been visiting a therapist once a week for the past month to make Sherry and Gil happy. I don’t see the point in it. I just sit and talk to her about what I’ve done in the previous week and she’ll occasionally ask me questions about my mom. I really don’t see the point in that. My mom’s out of my life and what good does it do to think about her anymore? But it’s easy and keeps Gil and Sherry happy, so I go.

  “What did you talk about today?”

  “School. My grades. By the way, I got a B+ on my last geometry test.”

  “That’s wonderful. Your grades continue to go up and up.”

  “Thanks to Brad’s help.”

  She pulls away from the curb, turns off her signal, and says, “You could probably get into college, you know?”

  “You think?”

  “Yes. Do you want to go?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She pauses while she changes lanes, then asks, “What’s your hesitation?”

  I shrug. “It just seems like a lot. What if … I can’t handle it?”

  “You’re scared you’ll fail?”

  “Yes … maybe.”

  We stop at the light and she turns to face me. “You should never make huge life decisions like this based on fear. Isn’t it better to try and fail than to not try at all? At least then you could say you gave it your best shot. Not that I think you’d fail. You’re doing well in school now and it’s just more of the same.”

  “I guess, but there’s also the issue of all
the changes that will hit with my birthday. It’s going to be a lot all at once.”

  “Because you’ll age out of foster care?”

  I nod. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Honestly?”

  She rolls her eyes at me like a teenager. “Yes, honestly.”

  “I want to stay with you until graduation, but I know that’s greedy of me. You have no reason to allow that.”

  “Oh, honey, we just assumed you’d stay here through at least graduation, if not the summer.”

  Her one little sentence lifts an elephant-sized weight off my chest. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll pick up more chores and I don’t need an allowance,” I promise, so she won’t change her mind.

  An angry honk sounds behind us, drawing Gigi’s attention back to the road. The light’s green and the whole line of traffic is waiting on us. “Don’t worry about that,” she says, turning left.

  “I feel bad. I’ll be a free loader.”

  “You’re not a free loader. We never planned on keeping the checks anyway. We’ve been saving all that money and will give it to you when you turn eighteen, so you’ll have something to help you get started.”

  This is news to me. “What do you mean?”

  “Hailey, we never did this for the money. We did this because we want to help you. We want you to go to college, but if you choose not to, you can stay here as long as you need to find a job and save up enough money to get a car and a place of your own.”

  “Wow.”

  She reaches over and pats my knee.

  I can’t believe how nice and generous they are. They could easily throw me out on the street when I turn eighteen, but they’ll let me stay indefinitely. Not that I’d stay forever, but a couple months will be helpful. If I could actually get into college, I could move from here to a dorm room like a normal kid. Then I could get a job while I’m in school and save up enough for a car when I graduate. I have to admit, this college idea is starting to sound better and better. People would kill for free college tuition and I get that handed to me, room and board and all. I’d be crazy to pass that up, right?

  “Do you mind if we stop at the store?” Gigi asks. “I need to pick up a few last minute items for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine.“ After a moment, I ask, “Which state colleges do you think I could get into?”

  “Gil and I talked about this last week. We think Fayetteville State, A&T, and NC Central would accept you. Maybe NC State if you really buckled down the rest of the year.”

  “Where are A&T and NC Central?”

  “Greensboro and Durham, why?”

  “Just wondering where I might end up.”

  “You know Duke’s in Durham, right?” Gigi says, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

  Which means there’s a good chance Brad and I could both be in Durham. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that provides some sort of comfort or relief. The idea of moving away to someplace new all by myself is nerve wracking. It would be nice to have Brad close by. Plus, Gil and Gigi would visit him all the time, so I’d still get to see them.

  “Does this mean you’re seriously considering college?” she asks.

  “I guess it does.” I can’t believe it. College. Me. It’s always been a dream, but I never thought it could become a reality. I might actually be able to do it.

  I spend the rest of the day and half of the next helping Gigi prepare for Thanksgiving dinner. She’s having a huge crew over: Adam and Abbie’s family, Michelle and her mom, Gil’s brother and his wife with their nine-month old, some distantly related cousin on Gigi’s side with her husband and their four-year-old triplets, and a great aunt who was widowed earlier this year. I’m not sure whose side she’s from.

  I always thought the Campbells’ dining room table was ridiculously large, but now I see why they need it if she hosts all these people for holidays.

  “Can you pull the rolls out of the oven, Hailey?” Gigi asks, as I add a serving spoon to the sweet potato casserole. She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes and wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She; Edna, the great aunt; Andrea, Abbie’s mom; and I are finalizing dinner, which is actually more like lunch since we’re eating at one in the afternoon. Brad and Gil are entertaining the other guests in the living room. I haven’t had a chance to check on them, but it sounds like their entertaining includes a lot of football with all the cheers and groans.

  “Okay,” Gigi says, clapping her hands together once. “I think we have everything ready. Let’s move it all to the table.”

  “What’s this pan in the fridge?” Andrea asks, folding back aluminum foil on a rectangular glass dish.

  “Oh, shit,” Gigi moans. “That’s the lentil roast. Gil’s sister-in-law is experimenting with becoming a vegetarian.”

  “How long does it need to bake for?”

  “Thirty minutes at 325.”

  Andrea pulls it out, tosses it in the oven, and adjusts the temperature. “How about fifteen minutes at 500?”

  “That’s going to ruin it,” Gigi complains, reaching around Andrea to lower it to 400.

  “It’s a lentil loaf, how much worse can it taste?”

  “Shhh,” Gigi says, swatting her with a dish towel. “I need to be supportive of her dietary choices.” She taps her fingertips together and then studies all the food covering the countertops. After a moment, she nods and says, “Okay, let’s move everything else in. The turkey goes at the head of the table for Gil to carve.”

  Dinner is chaotic. That’s the only way to describe it. The triplets decided they were hot and took off all their clothes but their underwear. Their parents tried to correct the situation, but that resulted in a chase around the table and them finally throwing their hands up in surrender.

  The baby puked mashed potatoes on Gil’s sister-in-law’s pricey-looking dress, which sent her to the bathroom for at least twenty minutes. Her absence caused the baby to scream bloody murder until Gigi cradled him in her arms while she talked baby names with Michelle and Dawn, Michelle’s mom.

  Edna alternated dirty looks between the triplets and Michelle, who has started to show, although unless you knew, you could easily assume she was just a little pudgy around the middle. Edna must know the whole story, which makes it especially weird that she didn’t send disapproving glances to Brad.

  Just as we’re finishing, a nice burnt smell comes wafting in from the kitchen. The lentil roast. Gigi forgot it again. Not that it matters. I saw the sister-in-law sneaking both turkey and ham from her husband’s plate.

  Gil, his brother, and Adam’s dad didn’t seem to notice any of this. They talked football the entire time. Brad and Adam would chime in occasionally and then focus back on the conversation between me and Abbie.

  All in all, I loved it. It was the best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever had. In the past, a good year was me and my mom with a frozen dinner. On a bad year, it was me with some bread and peanut butter. I’d gladly take this craziness. Despite the rift between Brad and Gil and the judgmental stares of Edna, there was a lot of love at the table. Way more than I’ve ever felt before.

  Afterwards, I head to the kitchen to start dishes, but Gil shoos me away. Apparently, it’s a tradition for the guys to clean up. I follow the ladies into the living room where the talk is centered on Michelle and Brad’s baby.

  “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” Andrea asks.

  Michelle shrugs. “I don’t care, although a girl might be easier. I imagine boys need their dads around more than girls.”

  “Oh, Brad will be around,” Gigi says, scrunching her eyebrows. “If he can’t come up here regularly, I’ll take the baby to him. I’m not going to let him be a deadbeat dad.”

  “Don’t force him into anything,” Michelle says with a sigh. “I don’t want him to resent us.”

  “I won’t have to force him. He’s a good
kid and knows the right thing to do. Is he being supportive right now?”

  “Yeah, way more than I thought he would. He’s taken me to all my appointments and constantly asks me how I feel. And he texts me every night to make sure I remembered to take the pre-natal vitamin. It’s nice …” She drifts off as her eyes wander to me. I’m sure she’s wondering how I feel about all this.

  Honestly, I’m not thrilled about the nightly texts, maybe because I can’t get them from him, but I am happy he’s stepping up.

  “We need to think about the plan for next year,” Dawn says.

  That turns into a long, drawn-out discussion of logistics, as they try to determine what’s best for the baby and Michelle. It sounds like they’re going to use a combination of daycare and grandmas, so Michelle can stay at Pinecrest.

  While they talk, I look at the ginormous Christmas tree we put up yesterday. It’s at least fifteen feet tall and looks as real as any tree I’ve ever seen, but I know the truth since I saw Brad stick all the branches into the trunk. After that, he carefully hung white lights, glass ornaments, and red and gold ribbon. It’s by far the fanciest tree I’ve ever seen.

  Although I’m afraid to go near it because I’m sure I’ll trip and break an ornament, I have to say I love the feeling it adds to the living room. It’s warm and festive. It’s what the holidays are all about.

  “Who’s winning?” Gil’s voice echoes from the kitchen.

  I glance to the TV where the game is still on. Everyone else is still preoccupied with baby talk, so I answer. “Lions by six!”

  The score elicits both cheers and groans from the guys. Apparently not everyone is a Lions fan.

  A few minutes later, the guys join us and settle in on the sofas. Brad sits next to me, close, but not too close.

  “You going to win tomorrow?” Brad’s uncle asks him. It’s the third round game in the playoffs. If they win this, they’ll be in the regional finals.

  “Yeah.”

  “I like that confidence.”

  “We’re playing Albemarle. They’re big, but not fast. I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

  We watch the game for a few minutes and then Brad’s head bobs and lands on my shoulder. I look down and find his eyes closed and his nose flaring slightly with every breath. I consider scooting away, but Abbie is right next to me. I glance to Gil, who is preoccupied with the game and decide there’s not much I can do.