Stop being nosy.
I pry myself away from the truck and make my way to the brown, wooden front door. Where are these people anyway? Sure, we live in a pretty safe neighborhood, but anyone could just come and loot that moving truck.
I ring the doorbell before cradling the sacred bread. “I hope the neighbors like you,” I coo to the bread, “yes I—”
“Are you…talking to a loaf of bread?”
My head shoots up at the sound of a deep voice, and my eyes widen at the very hot—and very shirtless—guy in front of me.
Definitely not an old retired couple.
Chapter 2: Don’t Call Me That
The guy smirks at me. “You can close your mouth now.”
“Who the heck are you?” I blurt out. “And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
Oh man, not only does he—cough—have a hot bod—cough—but he’s got amazing dark hair, and these warm hazel eyes…
Snap out of it, Megan! You don’t even know this guy! Hot or not, you need to collect yourself and act casual!
“Not that it’s any of your business,” he drawls, leaning against the doorframe, “but I’m not wearing one because I don’t feel like wearing one.”
“Well, uh,” I say, trying not to clear my throat, “good for you.”
Good for you? That’s the best I could come up with?
“Well, uh,” he copies me, that smirk still intact, “from the way you were totally checking me out, I guess it’s good for you too.”
There’s no hiding my loud gasp. Who the heck does this guy think he is?! The sexiest teen of the year? I was not checking him out…that much…
I scowl at him. “Just take your stupid bread.”
“Feisty, huh?” He laughs some as he crosses his bare, toned arms. “I like that.”
Okay, I’m done.
I am so done, and that’s why I throw the loaf of bread down at his feet before stalking off with a huff.
“You know, you’re not very friendly!” he calls after me. “Are all the neighbors around here like that?”
I ignore him and just keep walking, well, until I go crashing down to the ground with an: OOF!
“You tripped over our garden hose!” I hear him yell in between his annoying snickers. “Can you hear me? I said you—”
“I HEARD YOU!” I shriek, turning over to sit on my butt. “I KNOW I TRIPPED OVER YOUR STUPID GARDEN HOSE! IT COULDN’T BE MORE OBVIOUS!”
Ow, my knees. Lovely…they’re all red and will probably bruise. Just what I needed.
“Wow, that was something else,” he comments, walking toward me, “our first time meeting each other, and you’ve already fallen for me.”
Is this guy for real right now?
“Conceited much?” I mutter, wishing I had just stayed home and conveniently forgot to deliver the stupid blueberry bread.
“Here, let me help you up,” he says, apparently not hearing my bitter remark.
I narrow my eyes at his extended hand. This could be some kind of trick. I don’t know how exactly it would be, but I’m not planning on finding out.
“Come on,” he insists, widening those gorgeous eyes at me, “just give me your hand.”
Don’t fall for it, Megan.
But I do.
I give him my hand, and then he pulls me up to my feet in one smooth, effortless motion. What the—
“You okay?”
Um, how can I be okay when I am this close to a shirtless hottie who smells so flippin’ amazing? I can’t be, which is why my heart is racing like crazy right now.
“I’m fine,” I force myself to say, sliding my hand out of his grasp, “and I’m leaving…again.”
“Hey,” he drawls as I turn to go, “aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Nope,” I reply with creased eyebrows. “I don’t think so. Goodbye.”
Have a nice life…
“Not even a thank you?”
I pause in walking away, and then look at him over my shoulder. “Seriously?”
“Well, I did help you up,” he states with a smug look, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black basketball shorts. “Saying thank you would just be the polite thing to do.”
“Yeah, sure,” I agree sarcastically, “and laughing at me after I tripped was just the polite thing to do, right?”
At that, the corner of his mouth goes up. “I mean, it was pretty funny.”
I don’t even bother responding to him. It’d be pointless. I just need to go home and regret coming out here. So, for the hundredth time, I walk away. Of course, I barely take a step though when he’s suddenly speaking again.
“Oh, before you—”
“What?” I snap, turning around to completely face him. “I am not thanking you, so you can just forget about it, okay?”
“Easy, tiger,” he replies in a cool tone, “I just wanted to know Feisty’s name.”
He did not just call me that again.
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss, crossing my arms, “I’m not—”
“Don’t call you what?” he interrupts, looking confused. “Tiger? Or Feistyyyyy?”
He then wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I feel my cheeks burning with anger.
“That is it!” I growl, stomping off toward my house. “YOU ARE THE ABSOLUTE WORST! AND FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, PUT A DANG SHIRT ON! NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THAT!”
“You have a great night too, Feisty!”
He has the nerve to laugh, and I grumble under my breath until I’m within the safety of our beautiful home. Why couldn’t we just get another old retired couple?
Hot or not, that guy is a nightmare.
——————
The first thing I do when I wake up the next day is go over to my window and peek outside at the new neighbors’ house. And no, I’m not looking for him, I’m just checking to see if the moving truck is still there. Which it is.
“What are you doing?”
I whirl around to see Hailee standing in my doorway with her arms crossed. “There’s this thing called knocking.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you spying on our new neighbors?”
“Of course not,” I respond with a scoff. “Now get out of my room, Hailee.”
“Make me.”
I snatch my hairbrush off my bed, and then point it at her with a menacing look. “Get. Out.”
She rolls her eyes, but thankfully leaves, and I don’t hesitate in closing my bedroom door. Never underestimate the power of a hairbrush…
And why do people think they can just waltz into my room whenever they—
I curse out loud when I see that my Peachy Pop lip gloss is missing from the top of my dresser. She’s dead.
“Megan!” Mom yells for me, as usual. “Downstairs, please!”
It. Never. Ends.
With a dramatic groan, I force myself to trudge downstairs.
“What do you—” I stop when I see her grabbing the car keys. “Wait, where are you going?”
No, no, no, no! She can’t be leaving me with Hailee again.
“I need to pick your dad up from the airport,” she replies, glancing down at her wristwatch, “and I don’t have time to pick Kyle up from his friend’s house, so I need you to do it for me, please.”
This can’t be happening. Why do I have to spend my Sunday morning being a chauffeur to a second grader?
“And I want you to take Hailee with you.”
Great, now I’m a chauffeur for a seventh grader too…
“But, Mom—”
“Not another word,” she interrupts, putting a finger up to stop me. “Oh, and invite the neighbors over for dinner tonight on my behalf, okay? Let’s plan to do it around six.”
Crap.
I let out a nervous laugh. “You mean the Gravinskys?”
But I already know that she’s not talking about the Gravinskys, and I’m inwardly crying so hard.
“Our new neighbors, silly.” She laughs, opening the front door. “I wi
sh I could invite them myself, but my spaghetti will make up for it.”
“Mom, wait!” I exclaim as she starts to walk outside. “I don’t know if inviting them over is a good idea!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Megan,” she tsks, shaking her head at me. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours or so, all right? I need to run some errands before getting your dad.”
And then she leaves.
I blink at the closed front door as my unfortunate reality begins to sink in. She wants me to invite the new neighbors over for dinner; and while we’re all eating her spaghetti, she’s going to ask them if they liked the blueberry bread. The blueberry bread that I threw to the ground. The blueberry bread that I probably destroyed.
Oh man, I’m going to be in so much trouble. One problem at a time though.
“HAILEE!” I yell, running back upstairs. “WE HAVE TO PICK KYLE UP!”
I pound a fist against her door, and then prop my hands on my hips. See? I knock.
“You’re so annoying,” she drawls, opening the door, “and are you seriously planning on picking him up while wearing that?”
I glance down at my mismatched pajamas before scowling at her. “No, genius, I’m going to change and then we’ll leave.”
She crosses her arms and gives me a bored look. “I don’t wanna go. Why can’t I just stay here?”
Translation: I want to secretly binge-watch Cloverdale.
“You’re going,” I tell her with an eye-roll, “and if you’re not ready by the time I’m dressed, I’ll just drag you to the car.”
“What. Ever.”
She closes her door in my face, and I sigh as I shuffle over to my room. This is going to be such a long morning.
I quickly change into jeans and a T-shirt; and since my hair’s not too knotty, I wave off the idea of brushing it. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone. I do brush my teeth though. Morning breath is a big no-no.
“All right,” I say, shoving my wallet into my back pocket, “let’s do this thing.”
I march over to Hailee’s room and pound on her door once again. “Come on, we’re leaving!”
She says something, but I can’t hear her over my growling stomach. Dang…how could I forget breakfast?
I give her door a final loud knock, and then I jog downstairs to the kitchen. What to eat? What to eat? What to eat?
I snatch a muffin from one of Mom’s containers before heading toward the front door. “I’M WAITING OUTSIDE, TWERP! GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE!”
And with that, I go outside and close the door behind me. Then, as I walk to the car, I take a huge bite out of my muffin—only to spit it out all over the place.
Ew! What the crap is that? Bran? Flax? Hay?
“That has got to be the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”
I curse under my breath at the sound of Mr. Annoying-But-Hot-Neighbor’s voice. And I don’t curse just because I don’t like him, it’s also because I shouldn’t be able to recognize his voice already. That’s not a good sign.
I ignore the bland taste that’s still on my tongue as I turn to glare at him. “I guess you’ve never looked in a mirror then.”
My parents haven’t raised me to be rude, but this guy is just plain ridiculous…and I’m not having it.
He smirks at that. “Oh please, don’t even try to act like this is disturbing.”
I roll my eyes as he motions to his whole body—which is fully clothed, thank God. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”
“Sure,” he replies with a shrug, “but it’s so much more special when you say it, Feisty.”
If looks could kill, he’d be dead right now, just saying.
“Stop calling me that!” I exclaim with widened eyes. “I am not—”
“Who is this?”
And that would be the sound of my awestruck sister. Seriously, you’d think she just laid eyes on one of those guys from that boyband she’s obsessed with…
“The name’s—”
“This is no one,” I interrupt our jerk of a neighbor, making sure to glare at Hailee. “Let’s go.”
I grab her hand, and she proceeds to protest as I lead her to the car. “But he’s so cute! Why do you always have to ruin everything for me!”
“Just get in, drama queen,” I tell her after unlocking the car. “And I’m pretty sure he’s not looking for a middle school girlfriend, m’kay?”
She gives me the ugliest scowl, but surprisingly listens to me and gets in on the passenger side. Huh.
“See ya, Feisty!”
I almost flip him off, because he kind of deserves it, but choose to ignore him instead as I join Hailee in the car. Doesn’t this guy have anything better to do with his time?
“What did he call you?” Hailee asks as I start the car up.
“Nothing,” I fib, setting my muffin of death on the console tray. “Put your seatbelt on.”
I’m not going to get arrested on her account.
She crosses her arms. “You’re not wearing yours.”
I sigh before putting mine on. “What’s your excuse now?”
Eat that, preteen.
She gives me another lovely scowl as she puts her seatbelt on. “There, it’s on.”
I respond with a sugary smile. “Thank you.”
“Whatever,” she says as I pull out of the driveway, “I wanna listen to music.”
“And I wanna billion bucks,” I deadpan. “Suck it up.”
“Hmm,” she hums, twirling a strand of her light-brown hair, “he’s hot, huh?”
I ignore her as I continue to drive down the street.
Please don’t continue this conversation.
“And did you see those arms?” she comments in a dreamy tone. “I bet he works out a lot.”
I’d bang my head against the steering wheel if I could.
Honestly? I actually have half a mind to pull over, just so I can do it.
“I bet—”
“How about some music?” I cut her short as I turn the radio on. “Maybe they’ll play one of Look That Way’s songs.”
“Megan,” she says in the driest tone, “the band name is Look This Way, not Look That Way. Don’t pretend like you’re a fan when you’re clearly not.”
“I never pretended that—”
“SHH!” she hushes me as a different song begins to play. “Shawn is singing, Meg. No one should make a sound while Shawn is singing.”
Except for her, apparently.
She proceeds to shriek and then starts to sing along with Shawn, sounding completely off-key. To the point that I literally cringe.
And I thought this song couldn’t get any worse…
It then occurs to me that I don’t even know where this “friend” of Kyle’s lives. Mom didn’t bother to tell me.
“Hailee,” I say as she continues to croak and look ridiculous, “call Mom for the address.”
“Why can’t you do it?” she whines.
“I’m driving,” I reply with an eye-roll. “Just call her!”
“Fine!” she snaps, pulling her phone out. “Jeez…”
I turn the radio’s volume down some so she can hear Mom and vice versa. Okay, so maybe I’m also taking this as an advantage to ease the pain.
“Hey, Mom!” Hailee chirps into her phone. “What’s the address? 2451? Elm Road? Near us, right? Uh-huh…”
Elm Road? That’s on—THE LEFT!
I curse under my breath as I quickly turn the wheel before I miss the turn, jolting a squealing Hailee toward me. Ha. See? It’s a good thing I told her to put her seatbelt on.
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” Hailee says as she glares at me. “Love you, bye!” She ends the call and smacks my arm. “You did that on purpose!”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
“I’m not doing this,” I finally say as I look at the different houses’ addresses. “What was the add
ress again?”
“24-something.”
“Hailee!”
“What?”
“We need the address.”
She sighs, her eyes glued to her phone. “2451.”
“Thank you.”
No reply.
Oh, good.
Once I find the correct house, I pull into the empty driveway and park the car. “I’ll be right back.”
Hailee scoffs as I get out of the car. “What am I…four?”
I mimic her in a whiny voice as I slam the driver’s door shut. What was I thinking when I asked Santa for a little sister? Clearly, I wasn’t the smartest five-year-old.
I walk up to the front porch and ring the doorbell. Then I glance back at the car to make sure Hailee is…well…being behaved. And from what I can see, she’s—
“Can I help you?”
Chapter 3: The Stupid Bread
There’s a guy standing in front of me. A guy with soft brown eyes, wavy swept-back hazelnut brown hair, and a confused look on his face.
Which probably mirrors my face, because I’m totally stunned by the fact that a cute guy wearing a shirt opened the door.
“Um…” He laughs a little. “I’m going out on a limb here that you’re not Kyle’s mom?”
My mouth drops at that. “No! Gosh, no! I’m Megan, his sister.”
“Ah,” he replies with a nod, “well…I’m Liam, Lincoln’s brother.”
Why on earth did I think that not brushing my hair was an okay idea?
“So,” I drawl, casually folding my arms, “is Kyle ready?”
What I’m really wondering is, how the heck have I never seen this guy before? Does he go to a different school? I mean, he can only be maybe a year older than me, which would put him as a senior. Swoon.
“Uh, yeah.” He motions behind him. “He’s upstairs with Lincoln. Do you want to come inside while I get him?”
Yes!
“No, that’s okay,” I reply with a shrug, “I don’t mind waiting out here.”
Nice, Megan. Play it cool.
“All right, I’ll be back in a sec.”
He leaves the door half-open, and I tilt my head to the side so I can watch him as he goes upstairs. Was he disappointed that I said no? I mean, he looked a little disappointed.
My Dilemma Page 2