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

by S. M. Koz

  “He really likes you,” Michelle says from his other side, leaning over him so she can see me.

  “Oh, well, it’s kind of weird with me living here and all.”

  “He told me what his parents said.”

  I shrug. It is what it is.

  “I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

  “I … I do,” I say, looking down at his peaceful face. How could I not? I’ve been whisked away from my mom and Chase and brought into this wonderful family. Never in a million years did I think something like this would happen.

  I know that’s not what Michelle’s referring to, though. She means Brad. I’m still stunned someone like him would be interested in someone like me. It’s unimaginable, really.

  “Well,” she says, “we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, so we might as well become friends.”

  I glance in her direction to see if she’s serious, but she’s focused on the game. Falling against the back of the couch, I think about her words. There could be worse things. Brad and Abbie are close to Michelle, so she can’t be that bad. I should probably give her a chance.

  Chapter 26

  HAILEY

  True to her word, Michelle’s been going out of her way to be friendly toward me. The sudden change in attitude is a little unsettling, but I like this Michelle much better than the other one.

  “What school did you go to before Pinecrest?”

  “Union Pines,” I answer, staring out the window. She offered to drive me home from school today, so I wouldn’t have to take the bus.

  “You’re from Carthage?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s even smaller than Pinehurst. I can’t imagine living there.”

  “You kind of get used to it.”

  We drive in silence for a few minutes. As she turns onto my street, she says, “That guy who came over that one night—Chance or something—was he your boyfriend?”

  “Chase. Yes.”

  “You two seemed pretty serious. What happened?”

  “Nothing. He … we … I needed some space.”

  I’m not about to tell her the truth. She doesn’t need to know that I was worried he’d get me kicked out of my third foster home or potentially land me in jail.

  “How’d you two meet?”

  “He lived next door.”

  “I bet it was a big adjustment for you to come here. Is it totally different than where you grew up?”

  “Yes.”

  “How so?” she asks, throwing the car into park.

  “In every way.” It’s nice that she cares, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable giving her all the nitty gritty details of my life. Unlike Brad, who seems to take it all in stride, I’m worried her opinion of me would take a dive.

  I open the door and get one foot out when she asks, “Do you want to hang out sometime?”

  “Um …”

  “Maybe we could grab lunch on Saturday?”

  “I guess.”

  “Great! I’ll pick you up around noon.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I thank her for the ride and then walk to the front door, digging my key out of my pocket along the way. I guess it’s nice that she’s trying to get to know me, but it still feels weird.

  After letting myself in, I wave to Michelle, then punch in my security code for the alarm. I’m home much earlier than I usually am with the bus. Those days, I barely beat Gigi home, but, today, I’ve got an hour before she’ll be here.

  I hang my jacket in the closet, lay my backpack on the table, and then open the pantry, looking for a snack. All of Michelle’s talk about my past makes me think about my first couple days here and how afraid I was to even eat their food. Now, I grab a bag of chips without thinking and sit down at the table to start homework. I focus on American history first, since it’s easy. I just have to read three chapters.

  When I’m almost done, Gigi enters through the garage.

  “Hello, dear,” she says, removing her coat and heels. The coat goes in the closet and the shoes under the desk. She’ll put those back in her room later, but she always wants to get dinner started immediately.

  “Hi.”

  “How was school?”

  “Fine.”

  She opens the freezer and pulls out a tray of homemade lasagna. “Anything good happen?”

  “Not really.”

  After throwing it in the oven, she asks, “Anything bad happen?”

  “No.”

  “Sounds like a decent day, then.”

  I nod and offer to help, but she waves me off, saying all she has to do is make some garlic bread and toss a salad.

  I finish reading the third chapter while she does that, then switch over to my biology homework. A few minutes later, Brad enters.

  “Hey,” he says, looking at me, then his mom. He throws his gym bag in the laundry room before going to the refrigerator where he grabs a bottle of Gatorade.

  “I heard Michelle drove you home,” he says, leaning against the counter and unscrewing the cap.

  “Yes.”

  “How was that?”

  “Fine. She was very talkative. I’m just having a hard time getting used to this side of her.”

  After downing half the bottle, he sits next to me and helps himself to some chips, before saying, “She’s actually a really nice person. I think she feels bad about how she treated you initially.”

  “We’re supposed to have lunch on Saturday.”

  “Really? Do you want me to go, too?”

  I almost think that would be worse. As much as Brad says he doesn’t like her and as accepting as she seems to be of the situation, she is having his baby. I kind of feel like the other woman, but that’s ridiculous. First, Brad and I are nothing right now and secondly, he never had a relationship with her.

  “No, I’m a big girl. I can handle it,” I reply with a smirk.

  He nods and stuffs another chip into his mouth.

  “When’s your next game?” I ask. They beat Albemarle on Friday, just like he predicted, and are now in the regional finals. Two more games until they’re the state champs.

  “Friday.”

  “Who do you play?”

  “Murphy.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Nah,” he says, nudging my leg with his own under the table. He leaves it pressed up against me and I have to resist the temptation to run my hand along his thigh. “I don’t get nervous,” he continues.

  Gigi snorts from where she’s cutting tomatoes.

  “I think your mom disagrees.”

  “My boy used to get so nervous before games that we’d have to take a bucket in the car. He’d vomit three or four times on the way there!”

  He rolls his eyes. “I haven’t done that in years.”

  “No, instead, you have your pre-game ritual now.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a good luck charm.”

  I turn to see him better and tuck my foot underneath me on the chair. “What is your good luck charm?”

  “Have you ever noticed how he paces in the end zone before a game?” Gigi asks.

  “Yes …”

  “Mom!” Brad yells, glaring at her back.

  She glances over her shoulder and smiles at him. “You said there’s nothing wrong with your good luck charm.”

  “What exactly do you do in the end zone?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you blushing?”

  “No.”

  He totally is. I’ve never seen him blush before. That’s always me, but right now his cheeks have a faint pinkish tint to them. “You are. It’s adorable.”

  He rolls his eyes, and throws another chip in his mouth.

  “Now, I’ve really got to know what you do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Anything I come up with in my mind will probably be worse than what you really do.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “What is it, Gigi?”

  She laughs
and points the knife at the two of us. “Tell her, honey. It’s cute. She’ll like it.”

  “Fine. I talk to the ball, okay?” he says, holding his hands out in front of himself, like he just surrendered in a war.

  “You talk to the ball?”

  “Yeah. It’s like a pep talk.”

  “For the ball?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does it listen to you?” I try to keep a straight face, but totally fail.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’d love to hear what you say.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “I would, too,” Gigi adds. “Do you tell it to keep a tight spiral?”

  “Or to stay nice and inflated throughout the whole game?“ I ask.

  “Or to hone in on your receiver’s hands like a ballistic missile?”

  “I’ve had enough,” he says, pushing his chair back. He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze on his way past me. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

  *****

  “It smells delicious,” I say, hanging my coat over the back of a chair near the middle of the restaurant that Michelle selected for our lunch date.

  “Lula’s soup is the best,” she says. “She sells it to Neiman Markus.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I recommend the mushroom bisque. Sounds gross, but it’s delicious.”

  Michelle sits next to me and hands me a menu. Apparently not needing one herself, she looks out the window. The sky is dark and ominous with gray clouds. It looks like it could snow, but I doubt it. We hardly ever get snow, and I know I wouldn’t be lucky enough to get a snow day on Monday and be able to postpone my geometry quiz.

  After reading the entire menu, I decide to take Michelle’s recommendation and select a soup and sandwich combo. With how chilly it is outside, warm soup sounds very appealing.

  As soon as I set the menu down, a waitress appears and takes our orders.

  “So, how’s Brad been handling the news? He seems to be okay when he’s around me, but I wonder if he’s different at home?” she asks, smoothing a napkin on her lap.

  “He’s mostly fine. Gil is still being cold to him, which is hard, but otherwise, he seems to be okay.”

  “I feel bad. They used to be so close.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  She raises her eyebrows at me.

  “Well, not entirely your fault.”

  She shakes her head and then lowers it to her hands. “I can’t believe I forgot to take the pill. I feel like such an idiot. Has that ever happened to you?”

  “Feeling like an idiot?”

  “No, forgetting to take your pill.”

  “Oh, no. I’m pretty good about it.”

  “Good. Brad doesn’t need another kid right now.”

  “Oh, we’re not …”

  “Really?”

  I shake my head. “With the whole foster care thing and his parents’ rules …”

  “But you could easily find time to be alone.”

  “I guess, but he’s busy with football and …” I fade off. I don’t really need any more excuses. His parents said no and we’re listening to them. For now, anyway.

  “He at least kisses you, right?”

  I gulp at the direction this conversation is going. I so don’t want to talk me and Brad with her.

  “No?” She bites her lip and then leans toward me like she wants to share top secret information, but pulls back at the last second.

  What the heck was that? It’s not like it’s a ‘no, we’ve never kissed;’ it’s just a ‘no, we’re not kissing regularly.’ Does she think he’s not that in to me? Does she think she can provide some pointers?

  “Anyway, Brad is so great, isn’t he?” she says, apparently moving on. “I expected him to blame me and tell me I’d be on my own, but he never did. Even right when I broke the news to him, he seemed to blame himself, not me.”

  “He’s a pretty amazing guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Excuse me,” I say politely. “I’m going to use the restroom.” I hope when I return, I’ll be spared from any more of her Brad idolization.

  I agree, Brad is awesome, but I don’t want her to feel that way, too. Call me selfish. Or jealous. Ugh, I groan. I am jealous. Even though Brad says we’ll have a future, he has a huge past with Michelle and a definite future because of the baby. She gets both. She clearly knows him better than me; they’ve been friends for years and she slept with him.

  What will I get? Maybe a few months before he heads off to college? That thought is depressing, so I have to push it out of my mind.

  When I return, sitting on the table is a glass of water for me and a glass of sweet tea for her. I take a sip and wait for what will come next.

  “So, how do you like Pinecrest?” she asks, thankfully changing the subject again.

  “It’s good.”

  “Why don’t you sit with us at lunch?”

  I shrug. “I met Brittany first and she invited me to sit with her and her friends.”

  “I hope it’s not because of how rude I was to you early on.”

  That was a huge reason, but I don’t tell her the truth.

  “Because I feel bad. I should’ve never acted so bitchy.”

  “It’s okay,” I reply.

  “No, it’s not. I was jealous, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. Anyway, are you going to the game on Friday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you come with me and Abbie and Adam?”

  “I don’t know. I usually go with Gil and Gigi.”

  “They won’t care.”

  It will be a little weird hanging out with the three of them without Brad or Brittany, but I don’t want to be rude given all her attempts to be nice. “Um, okay. I guess,” I reply. “Can I invite Brittany, too?”

  “Sure! The game’s in Raleigh. We’re heading over early, right after school, so we can grab dinner at someplace fun first.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We’re silent for a few minutes, each of us sipping our drinks. After a moment, a train horn blares, pulling my attention out the window. It’s an Amtrak, slowly making its way down the tracks.

  Michelle seems to be unaware of the train. “Were you involved in any activities at your old school?”

  “Not really,” I reply, focusing back on her.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “What are you involved in?” I ask, trying to get her talking about herself so we don’t have to talk about me.

  “Student council. I’m president of my class. It takes up a lot of time. You’d be surprised at how many decisions I have to make.”

  “Like what?” I ask to keep her talking.

  “Well, for Homecoming, I had to pick the car that Ellie, our court representative, rode in during the parade and decide how to decorate it. And, now, we’re already thinking about prom. I need to come up with a committee of juniors and seniors. “Hey, do you want to be on the committee?”

  “I don’t think I’d be much help. I’m probably not even going to prom.”

  “What? You’ll go with Brad, right? Surely, his parents will allow that.”

  If it’s before my birthday, I doubt it. Well, Gil anyway. Gigi might. She seems to be less and less concerned about us. I know she’s overly observant, but she never comments on any of our subtle little touches, which makes me think she’s looking the other way. Brad must agree because he’s much braver when it’s just her around without Gil.

  Regardless, I can’t imagine going to prom. I don’t have a dress, don’t want to waste money on a dress, and would never ask Gigi to buy me one. I guess Abbie might have an old one I could borrow. “I don’t know. When is it?”

  “May 10th.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “That’s my birthday.”

  “Oh, how great,” she says, clapping her hands together. “What a fun night that will be for you! So you’ll be on the committee?”
r />   “Um …”

  “Great!”

  Before I can tell her I didn’t really agree, our lunch arrives and we dig in.

  “This is good,” I say after swallowing a spoonful of soup.

  “Told you.”

  For the rest of our meal, I keep Michelle talking about herself. She’s an only child. She was born in Richmond, Virginia, but moved here when she was six, after her mom and dad divorced. Apparently her mom grew up here and her father, Michelle’s grandfather, was still in the area at that time, but subsequently passed away when Michelle was twelve. Her mom’s an emergency department doctor at the hospital like Andrea, Adam and Abbie’s mom, so that’s how they all met each other.

  She was always hoping to go to either Duke or Cornell to study finance, but is worried about how the baby will affect her plans. I don’t want to be pessimistic, but I don’t see how she could go away to school by herself with a baby and manage to graduate. Maybe her mom and Gigi will help out even more, so she can realize her dreams. It’s funny because missing out on his dreams was Brad’s biggest concern with the baby and Michelle never mentioned her plans early on, yet she has as dreams just as big. I kind of feel bad for her. Brad will get what he wants while she settles for something else because she has to raise their child. It sucks for her, really.

  After we finish lunch, she drives me home. I thank her for a fun afternoon and am surprised when I realize I actually mean it. The beginning was a little rocky with all the talk of Brad, but once we steered clear of him, it was better.

  I push the lever on the doorknob to let myself inside the house, but it’s locked.

  Reaching into my jacket pocket, I find it’s empty. I try the other one and then both pockets of my jeans, but they’re empty, too. “Crap,” I mumble, trying the door again.

  Michelle rolls down her window and yells out to me, “Is there a problem?”

  “I lost my key!”

  She turns off the car and then joins me on the porch. “Lucky for you, I have a copy.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a keychain with about five or six keys and promptly unlocks the door.

  I step inside and punch in my four-digit security code for the alarm, while she stands next to me.