He’s still so close.
He’s too close…
“Yeah, that sounds good!” I blurt out, desperate to get away from him.
I skirt around him and fast-walk over to where my mother is pulling out her wallet.
“Did you pick something, Meg?” she asks, freeing one of her credit cards from its slot. “Everyone else already has.”
“I’ll have the Triple Fudge Brownie in a medium cup,” I tell her, forcing myself not to glance back at Brayden, “that’s the one I want.”
“Okay, honey,” she replies, oblivious to how anxious I’m feeling right now. “Brayden already paid for his…and it’s done, so can you give this to him?”
I stare at the pink-topped ice cream cone that she’s holding out to me. “You want me to—”
“Give it to him, Megan,” she tsks, holding it out even farther. “It’s just ice cream.”
Easy for her to say.
Still, I take the stupid thing from her. “Fine.”
I turn and walk back over to where Brayden is still standing by the case of ice cream, only now he’s on his phone.
“Here,” I say, holding his ice cream cone out for him, “this one’s yours.”
Well, that sounded totally lame.
He looks up from his phone, and then takes the cone from me. “Thanks, Meg.”
“Thanks, Meg.” He says it so casually, as if his fingers didn’t just brush against mine, causing every nerve in my body to completely freak out.
“Sure,” I mutter as he saunters over to the table that Dad, Hailee, and Kyle are sitting at. “No problem.”
Except, you know, I can’t seem to keep it together whenever I’m around him.
Chapter 17: Typical Brayden
So, bad news.
Mom and Dad said it’s okay for me to “go walking” with Brayden.
You can imagine my disappointment. However, I’m hoping that he somehow forgot about the whole thing. And besides, we never really planned how it was going to even happen. Was he expecting that we’d both just step outside at the same time as the sun started to go down?
It was a bad idea to begin with.
I finish my chores in the kitchen, and just as I’m about to grab a peanut butter cookie from Mom’s bright red cookie jar…I hear the doorbell ring.
Crappppppp.
It might not be him though. It could be anyone. It could be some kid playing “ding-dong ditch” for all I know.
But then the doorbell rings again—which isn’t how you play the game.
“Megan!” Mom hollers from Kyle’s room. “Can you get that, please?”
I go ahead and grab my cookie before putting the lid back on its jar, then I drag my feet to the front door. An unfortunate quick peek through one of the door’s sidelights confirms my worst fear: it’s him.
He’s here.
He didn’t forget.
I take a bite out of the cookie and curse under my breath. “Let’s just get this over with…”
I open the door, then force myself not to ogle his bare arms. Did he really have to put on a muscle tank?
Count your blessings, Megan. At least he didn’t show up shirtless.
My cheeks start to heat up at the thought.
“Hey,” he greets me with a nod, “ready to go?”
Yeah, that’s going to be a no.
Would it be absolutely terrible if I just threw the door shut in his face?
“Is that a peanut butter cookie?”
“It’s mine,” I reply a little too defensively, holding the cookie closer to myself, “and no…I’m not ready yet.”
“I see that now,” he says with a slight laugh, motioning to the purple ankle socks I’m wearing. “Unless you were planning on going walking in your socks.”
Ha. Ha. He’s hilarious. I’m dying from laughter.
“Right,” I state in a dry voice. “Well, I’m going to put my sneakers on, and you can just—”
“Come inside and have a peanut butter cookie?” he suggests, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Sounds good to me.”
I roll my eyes at that. “Fresh, much?”
“Fresh would be trying to eat your cookie,” he replies, his smirk only growing. “Like this.”
He reaches out to grab the cookies from me, and I turn so I can hold it away from him. “Back off, Knight!”
“So, can I come in then?” he asks, still trying to snatch my cookie. “Or are you just going to give me the rest of your cookie?”
I let out a frustrated groan before stepping aside. “Fine, you can come in!”
Mom would lecture the heck out of me about the importance of “being a good neighbor” if I didn’t let him invade our house.
“Well, since you’re insisting,” he drawls, giving me a wink as he steps inside.
My frustration levels are increasing by the second—just in case anyone was wondering.
I close the front door then walk back to the kitchen so I can get him a stupid cookie, because that’s what good neighbors do.
Surprise, surprise, he trails after me…while humming. Once again, I tell myself that it’s annoying.
I take the cookie jar’s lid off, and then grab one of the smaller cookies for him. Yeah, I’m petty like that.
I almost hand it to him, but after remembering the way his fingers brushed against mine earlier, I decide that setting it on the counter is a better option.
“There’s your cookie,” I say, putting the lid back on its jar, “happy now?”
He swipes it up and practically inhales the whole thing. “Yep.”
I catch him still eyeing mine though, so I step around him and leave the kitchen. “Mom, Brayden’s here! I’m going to put my sneakers on and then we’re leaving!”
Fingers crossed that Hailee is wearing her earbuds and didn’t hear me. I do NOT need her coming down here to meddle and talk with Brayden.
“Hi, Brayden,” Mom says, coming out of Kyle’s room, “how are—”
“Brayden!” Kyle interrupts, running past Mom. “You wanna see me room? I have lots of cool action figures and everything!”
And that’s my cue to go upstairs. The cookie is long gone by the time I’m in my room, and even though I really don’t want to—I go ahead and shove my sneakers on.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this. It’s going to be terrible; I just know it.
“You have perfume to wear…right?”
“Hailee!” I hiss, placing a hand over my heart. “Why the heck are you creeping in my doorway?”
“Perfume,” she says, crossing her arms, “do you have some or not?”
“Yes, I have perfume,” I retort with a glare, “but that doesn’t mean I’m wearing it.”
“Megan!” she huffs, coming into the room without my consent. “Don’t you want to smell good?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Are you implying that I smell bad?”
“You smell average,” she informs me with a sigh, “just trust me and put some perfume on. Nothing flowery. Something subtle, yet sexy.”
I point a finger toward the open door. “Get out of my room.”
“Do it,” she insists, taking a couple of steps backward, “or you’ll be forcing me to go downstairs and—”
“Okay!” I cut her off, snatching one of the perfume bottles off my dresser before spritzing myself with it. “Look, I’m putting it on!”
“Well,” she drawls, wrinkling her nose, “I don’t think I would’ve picked that one…but I’ll let it slide.”
Such a giver.
I set the bottle back down on my dresser, then herd her out of my room. “I’m leaving now, and so are you.”
“Megan,” she says once we’re in the hallway, “you’ll tell me if you guys end up kissing, right?”
“Who said anything about kissing?” I snap in a hushed tone as I close my bedroom door. “I already told you that we don’t like each other, so stop trying to turn this into something it’s not!”
She sh
akes her head with a laugh. “Dang, do you have it bad for him.” She then points a finger at me. “Make sure you chew some gum, okay? Stale breath is a big turn-off when it comes to kissing.”
As if she’s had kissing experience.
“Look who’s just full of compliments tonight,” I tell her with a tight smile. “Is that all? Or did you want to comment on something else? Like, maybe the horrible way I tied my laces?”
She glances down at my sneakers. “No, that’s probably the best thing you have going for you right now.”
The little…
She pops her earbuds in, then struts off to her room. “Don’t forget about the gum!”
I’m pretty darn close to chewing said gum, then sticking it right in the middle of her hair.
“Megan!” Mom calls from downstairs. “It’s going to get dark soon, and Brayden’s waiting!”
Ugh.
I go back downstairs where Kyle is spouting nonsense about one of his toys, and Mom is talking to Brayden about…the neighborhood, I guess.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brayden says with a nod, “we’ll just be walking on this street, and I’ll have her back before it gets dark.”
Oh no, no, no, no, NO! Why is he making it sound like a date? This isn’t a date! The only reason we’re even going for this stupid “walk” is because he wanted to talk. In a non-date way. Because two people can go for a walk and spend that time talking, for whatever reason, without it being a date.
This isn’t a date.
“All right,” Mom says, clasping her hands in front of her waist, “well…you two have a nice walk.”
Gah, she totally thinks this is a date. Which means she and Hailee will both be hounding me for details afterward. Lovely.
I lead the way outside, eager to get this over with, and Brayden closes the front door behind us.
“You okay?” he asks as we leave the porch and walk along the pathway. “You seem kind of anxious.”
“I’m fine,” I verbally wave him off. “I’m just not used to going for walks.”
I still can’t believe it’s an actual habit of his…
“It helps me clear my head,” he says with a careless shrug, “and gives me a chance to slow down. Plus, the view is always amazing.”
Because that totally didn’t sound like a line—but then again, what reason does he have to use a line on me? True. Great, now I’m confused.
“So, listen,” he drawls as we start walking down the street, past his house, “I wasn’t completely honest about why I didn’t show up for lunch on Thursday…and I know we talked about starting over, but I feel like we can’t really start over until I say this.”
Even greater, I’m more confused. Why is he bringing up Thursday?
“When we were together,” he continues, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black basketball shorts, “back in middle school, I—”
“That was a long time ago,” I interrupt him, not wanting to go down memory lane for the umpteenth time, “we really don’t need to talk about…then.”
He proceeds to curse. “See? That’s just it, Meg, we do need to talk about it. I need to say this, and you need to listen.”
I’m not backing down that easily though. “Well, maybe—”
“I’m serious, Megan,” he insists, his footsteps coming to an abrupt stop, “this is important.”
I find myself stopping too, unable to ignore the desperation in his voice. “Okay, fine, what is it?”
He licks his lips, now looking unsure, but then he sighs. “I’m sorry for the whole more-than-one-girlfriend thing, Meg. It was wrong of me to try and do that to you.”
All I can do is stare at him as I remind myself to breathe. Is this really happening right now?
“It was so stupid,” he continues speaking, a muscle in his jaw beginning to twitch. “A couple of the guys were doing it and they convinced me to try it out…I never should’ve listened to them though. And I didn’t think you’d break up with me, but then you passed that note to me during class the next day…” He shakes his head, causing my heart to pound even faster. “I knew I messed up.”
I swallow, trying to cure my dry throat. “Why—why didn’t you tell me?”
If he knew that he messed up…why act like I didn’t exist anymore?
“I guess I just figured it was too late,” he says, his voice lower than before, “that you only wanted to be friends. And since I couldn’t bring myself to see you as just a friend, I—”
“Decided to ignore me instead,” I finish for him, putting the pieces together. “Right? Because it was way more convenient to ignore me, rather than fix things between us.”
Typical Brayden.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” he apologizes again, “I never wanted to hurt you. I just…I didn’t know how to handle it.”
And I don’t know how to handle this. It’s too much. My head is spinning, my heart is hurting, and I just wish I hadn’t agreed to come on this stupid walk.
“Meg? Megan?”
He reaches out to touch my arm, but I take a step back so he can’t. I’m having enough mixed feelings as it is, any physical contact from him would just make this even worse.
“I get that you’re upset,” he drawls, his eyes softening as he studies my face, “but I want to make this right…if you’ll let me. Do you think you could give me a second chance, Meg?”
“Wait, are you thinking about giving him a second chance?”
“No, of course not. He’s not interested in me. I’m not interested in him. It’s not happening.”
And yet, here he is—standing in front of me, asking for a second chance. What does that mean? Didn’t I already give him a second chance when we agreed to be friends? Does he want to start over again? Or is he asking for a second chance as…something else?
But he’s not interested in me like that, right? He couldn’t be.
“Megan?”
None of this is making sense.
“Say something, Meg,” he says, his tone becoming impatient, “anything.”
Chapter 18: My Favorite Neighbor
“Well?” Lora asks, looking at me expectantly. “What did you say?”
“What was I supposed to say, Lor?” I huff, turning my attention to the ceiling of my room. “The whole thing was just weird…and confusing.”
“You had to say something,” she insists. “Come on, Meg, don’t make me go next door and ask Brayden what you said. You know I will.”
“How can you threaten me like that?” I wail before glaring at her. “After what I went through last night, you should be showering me with chocolate and…I don’t know…comforting words!”
“For both of our sakes, I’m going to act like you didn’t just say that,” she replies, momentarily closing her eyes. “Get a hold of yourself, Megan. Tell me what you said!”
“I might have told him that I needed to go,” I drawl, poking one of my pillows, “because I had…stuff to do…here at home.”
“You didn’t,” she says, giving me a judgy look that makes me cringe one hundred times over. “Megan! Why?”
“I freaked!” I defend myself, scrambling to sit up. “I didn’t know what he meant by giving him a second chance! I told you already—it was confusing!”
She tosses a hand up and curses at me. “Then why didn’t you ask him what he meant?”
“Maybe because I was feeling a little overwhelmed?” I shoot back, crossing my arms. “It was a lot to take in, Lora!”
“All right, all right,” she verbally waves me off, “well, what did he say when you gave him the lame ‘stuff-to-do’ excuse?”
“Uh…” I trail off, ignoring her sarcastic tone. “See, the thing is, I might have not heard what he said because I was too busy walking away from him as fast as I could.”
I give her my best: “I’m-totally-innocent-don’t-hate-me” look, but she shakes her head in disapproval anyway.
“Megan,” she grumbles, flinging one of my pens at me (which I barely manage t
o dodge). “The guy was trying to make things right with you, and you just flippin’ left him standing there!”
“Can we please remember that this was his fault to begin with?” I ask, tilting my chin up. “There wouldn’t be anything to fix if he hadn’t ruined our relationship in the first place!”
“People make mistakes all the time, Meg!” she exclaims, widening her eyes at me. “It’s not that hard to believe a twelve-year-old boy would screw things up with his twelve-year-old girlfriend.”
“But—”
“Maybe you should cut him some slack,” she suggests, giving me a meaningful look, “I mean…he said he was sorry, and he gave you an explanation. What more could you possibly want?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, clicking the pen a couple of times, “I guess I’m just still upset that the reason for our breakup was because he gave into peer pressure; and then he made the situation even worse by not doing anything about it.”
“Well, he’s trying to do something now,” she states in a matter-of-fact way, “and I think that says a lot.”
Of course, she does.
“And besides,” she continues to speak, “you should be glad the breakup was because he gave into peer pressure!”
I blink at her, completely lost. “Why exactly would I be glad about that?”
“He didn’t actually want another girlfriend besides you, Meg!” she exclaims, standing to her feet. “And if he ‘couldn’t bring himself to see you as just a friend,’ that obviously means he still liked you! I know he handled the whole thing wrong, but at least now you know how he really felt.”
I purse my lips, a little annoyed that I didn’t come to this conclusion myself, but like I told her—it wasn’t easy to think clearly last night.
“So,” I drawl as she strolls around my room, “you think I should give him a second chance then?”
Even though I’m pretty sure I already did—which, once again—is why I’m so confused.
“I think you should ask him what a second chance would mean to him,” she says, stopping at my window. “If it means that he wants to try and be friends this time—” She turns and gives me a suggestive look. “—or if he wants to be more than friends.”
My Dilemma Page 13