My Dilemma

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My Dilemma Page 14

by Pixie Perkins


  My stomach tightens at the thought. “He probably just wants a second chance as friends.”

  “Would you be okay with that though?” she asks, opening my curtains. “Can you see yourself only being friends with Brayden? Or do you still have feelings for him?”

  My first instinct is to flat-out say no, like I’ve been doing. At the same time though, I know that I’m undeniably attracted to him, and that being around him does something to me. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have feelings for him…does it?

  I bite my lower lip, clicking the pen once more. “Maybe?”

  “To which one?” She looks at me again. “Maybe you can see yourself being friends with him? Or maybe you still have feelings for him?” She then raises an eyebrow at me. “I already know the answer, Meg. You just need to say it out loud for yourself.”

  “How are you so sure that you know?” I ask, not wanting to admit anything. “Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “If I was wrong, then I wouldn’t be here having this whole conversation with you,” she says, staring out the window. “He just walked to their backyard…are you going to go talk to him?”

  I almost ask if he’s shirtless—because of the last time he was hanging around outside—but decide to keep that question to myself.

  “I think I should just wait until school tomorrow,” I drawl, hoping I don’t seem anxious. “That’s a good idea, right?”

  “No,” she replies, stepping away from the window, “it’s a terrible idea. You need to go talk to him now, while last night is still fresh in both of your minds, and you don’t have time to back out.”

  “But—”

  “No whining,” she cuts me off, “you need to do this.”

  “I need to say this, and you need to listen.”

  “Fine,” I mutter, sliding off my bed, “I’ll go talk to him. But if it turns out badly, I’m holding you accountable.”

  “Stop stalling,” she says as I take my sweet time walking to the door, “the sooner you go out there…the sooner it’ll be over.”

  I guess that’s true. However, I still drag my feet as I leave my room, go downstairs, and slip outsi—

  “Where are you going?”

  I pause, holding the backyard door partially open, and then I turn to Kyle. “Neverland.”

  He makes a face at me. “Can I go outside with you if I ask Mom?”

  I pretend to think about it. “No. I’m just stepping out for a few minutes…to get some fresh air.”

  “But I want to go outside too,” he whines, now holding his infamous stuffed dog over his head, “and so does Hammy! He needs exercise!”

  Mom and Dad just need to get this kid a real dog already.

  “I’m gonna go ask Mom!”

  I roll my eyes as he runs off, and then I finish “slipping outside.”

  While we have a fenced-in yard, the Palminos’-turned-Knights’ backyard does not have any fencing; so, once I walk out our gate and take a few steps forward, I’m in the Knights’ backyard. And there he is—thankfully not shirtless—but he’s wearing another muscle tank like he wore last night, so his arms are on full display once again.

  Oof.

  He sets down some kind of decent-sized bag that looks like it has a picture of flowers on it, then he dusts his hands off before—

  “Megan,” he says after his startled gaze lands on me, “I didn’t—what are you doing here?”

  “Hey,” I greet him lamely, offering an awkward wave, “uh…nothing much. What are you doing?”

  He cocks an eyebrow and nods toward the green bag he set down. “My dad asked me to carry that back here for him. He’s really into gardening.”

  Ah, that explains the flower picture on it.

  “So,” he drawls, placing his hands on his hips, “are you going to tell me why you’re really over here? Because after the way you ran off on me last night, a surprise visit from you was the last thing I was expecting.”

  “I didn’t…run off on you,” I all-but-mutter, scratching the back of my neck, “I was just walking at a faster pace than usual.”

  His lips form a brief smirk. “You could join track and field.”

  “I wasn’t running!” I insist, knowing how guilty I sound. “But I am…sorry…for leaving like I did.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Meg,” he says, shaking his head, “and if you don’t want to give me another chance—I totally get that.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I reply with a frustrated sigh, “it’s just…I thought I already had. When we agreed to start over and be friends? Wasn’t that a second chance?”

  “Well, yeah.” His eyebrows crease some. “I just thought I should ask you officially though…ya know, after telling you the truth about everything?”

  So, I was technically right, he wants a second chance as friends. Which makes sense, how could he possibly still like me after all this time? Just like I couldn’t possibly still like him after all this time.

  Being attracted to him DOESN’T mean I like him.

  “Right,” I reply, pushing my thoughts aside, “that makes sense.”

  What else is there for me to say?

  “So…” he trails off, watching me expectantly. “Does this mean you will give me a second chance? Officially now?”

  “Sure,” I say, barely lifting a shoulder, “why not?”

  He nods, a thoughtful look passing over his face. “Are you still upset with me though?”

  At this point, I’m feeling more upset with myself…

  “No,” I tell him in all honesty, “I’m not still upset with you.”

  “Well, good,” he says with a slight grin, “because I can’t have my favorite neighbor mad at me.”

  He’s not flirting. He’s just being Brayden.

  “You should know that all the peanut butter cookies are long gone,” I lie, crossing my arms, “so there’s no point in trying to flatter me.”

  “Dang it,” he drawls, crossing his arms as well, “I totally take it back then. You’re not my favorite neighbor anymore.”

  “That’s fine,” I shoot back, tilting my chin up, “you’re not my favorite neighbor either.”

  He laughs a little, the sound making my heart flutter. “Can’t say I’m surprised…you did throw that blueberry bread at me.”

  Not one of my finest moments.

  I click my tongue. “Yeah, well, you kind of deserved it.”

  Another laugh. “I won’t disagree.”

  And then neither of us say a word as we stand there staring at each other, just like yesterday at Kyle’s soccer game, but this time it feels…different. Like, somehow it doesn’t bother me.

  The moment suddenly ends though when Brayden steps around me. “Well, I should see if my dad needs help with anything else.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I agree, despite being caught off-guard by his abruptness, “I have some homework to finish anyway.”

  No, I don’t.

  His eyebrow quirks up at that. “Kind of last minute, huh?”

  “It makes it more exciting,” I blab the first thing that comes to mind. But why couldn’t I come up with a good fake excuse?

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” he says, a teasing glint in his hazel eyes. “See ya, neighbor.”

  ——————

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  I’ve been repeating the same thing in my head over and over again since Brayden and I “officially” started over yesterday; that way I can’t possibly get confused anymore. And though Lora has her doubts—which she expressed to me after I came back inside from talking to Brayden—I’m convinced it’s the truth, and it’s going to work. It has to.

  If Brayden wants a second chance as friends, that’s what he’s getting.

  “Have a great day, honey,” Mom tells me as I get out of the car, “don’t forget that your dad is picking you up…okay?”

  Right, I can’t remember the reason she gave me at breakfast, bu
t I do remember that it’s going to be him.

  I give her a thumbs-up, mutter a farewell to Hailee and Kyle, then close the passenger door.

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  See? Easy.

  I stroll into the school’s main building, my head held high like I don’t have a care in the world, and that’s when I see Brayden.

  He’s leaning against one of the hallway columns while talking to Beth.

  I repeat: He’s talking to Beth.

  In theory, it shouldn’t matter, but he’s talking to BETH FLIPPIN’ VALERIO! Why? Did she start the conversation? Or did he?

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  It’s not very “friend-like” of me to be annoyed that they’re talking to each other. I should be indifferent. And for a second or two, I’m totally indifferent, but then—BUT THEN—Beth’s hand trails down his arm twice.

  How can I be indifferent when talking is turning into touching? Well, guess what? I can’t. And that’s why I’m going to go over there and interrupt whatever it is they’re doing. Besides, Brayden did interrupt my conversation with Liam (where there was NO touching involved) on Saturday, interrupting him and Beth would only be fair.

  I start to head toward them, but then a hand grasps my arm. “Wha—”

  “Megan,” Holt says, gathering my attention, “I gotta talk to you really quick.”

  Does this guy ever quit?

  “Not now, Márquez,” I snap, shoving his hand off, “I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?” he retorts, stepping in front of me. “Come on, Meg! It’ll only take a second, I swear.”

  I roll my eyes at his whiny voice. “Fine. What is it?”

  Because there’s no way he’s going to leave me alone unless I listen to him first.

  “It’s about Lora.”

  “Shocker,” I say, not bothering to mask my sarcasm, “what is it now, Holt?”

  I glance past him to see if Brayden and Beth are still by the column—they are—and even though she’s not touching him anymore, she’s standing pretty darn close to him.

  Ughhhhhh.

  “I wanna ask her out.”

  My attention snaps back to Holt. “You want to what?”

  “I want to ask Lora out,” he drawls, looking at me expectantly. “Do you think she’ll go for it?”

  “What happened to not trying so hard?” I ask, making a frustrated sound. “And ‘letting it happen naturally’?”

  He frowns at my air quotations. “Isn’t asking her out the natural thing to do? I mean, we’ve been getting along pretty well.” He points a finger at me. “And on Saturday, she even texted me something that wasn’t about school.”

  Well, that’s news to me. Lora hasn’t talked about Holt at all since our conversation on Thursday.

  “See?”

  I blink as he holds his phone in front of my face. “Uh, it’s a meme?”

  “Exactly,” he says, now pocketing his phone, “it’s a food meme. And Lora knows how much I love those.”

  “So…” I trail off, trying to understand. “You think you should ask her out because she sent you a food meme?”

  “Well, yeah,” he drawls, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. But then his expression becomes worried. “Why, do you think she sent it to me as a friend meme?”

  Oh my gosh, I don’t have time for this!

  “Holt,” I say, my tone firm, “slow and steady wins the race, okay? I have one word for you: patience. Get some.”

  And with that, I go around him so I can continue with my original intentions. It’s too late though. Brayden is turning onto another hallway, and Beth is strutting toward Mr. Sunshine’s classroom. At least they’re not talking anymore—or doing anything else.

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  “Chill out, Megan,” I mutter to myself as I follow Beth’s lead, “this isn’t middle school.”

  Gosh, it used to make me so mad when all the girls would constantly find ways to talk to Brayden back then. It was like he had his own personal fan club. Those girls were everywhere. I even remember a lot of them trying to act like they were my friends just to get closer to him.

  I scowl at the memories.

  I might’ve been heartbroken when Brayden and I broke up, but I definitely didn’t miss all the girl drama.

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  I’m not looking for history to repeat itself. History can’t repeat itself. I refuse to fall for Brayden again.

  I won’t let it happen.

  Chapter 19: Hunky Guys with Great Hair

  First, it was Beth. Now? It’s Celise. Brayden has his own tablet, but she’s sitting right beside him like they’re still sharing hers, and Mrs. Flint isn’t doing anything about it.

  I mentally chant my newfound motto once again. If Celise wants to invade his personal space, and he doesn’t care, neither do I.

  I don’t care. It has nothing to do with me. Which is why I spend the rest of class watching them. I might not know what section Mrs. Flint was reading from; but I can tell you the exact amount of times that Celise touched Brayden’s arm, leaned in to whisper something to him, or gave him a flirty look.

  I’m extremely disappointed in myself.

  Not wanting to be around for any kind of encore, I leave the classroom as fast as possible and fall into the usual after class hallway traffic.

  I wish it was already the weekend again…

  “Hey, Megan!”

  I’m now realizing that “hey, Megan!” has become a common phrase of his, and I’m not okay with it.

  “Good morning, neighbor,” Brayden greets me, appearing by my side, “did you end up finishing your homework?”

  Right, my really bad fake excuse.

  “I got it all done,” I reply in a cool tone, “no big deal.”

  Because—ya know—there wasn’t any homework left for me to do in the first place.

  “Well, that’s good,” he drawls as we continue to walk, “I’m still surprised you waited until yesterday to do it though. I mean, back in middle school you would always get your homework done early and then you’d scold me for slacking on mine.”

  He’s not wrong, it felt like I was always scolding him about putting off his homework. My almost twelve-year-old self was paranoid that he was going to get suspended over it…

  “Hey, it’s okay if we talk about ‘back then,’ right?” he asks, using air quotations. “I know you didn’t want to before; but now that we’ve started over again for real this time, there’s no reason why we can’t talk about it. Don’t you think so?”

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  We can totally talk about the past. I can handle that. Maybe. Probably not, in all honesty, but I’ll just act like I can.

  “Yeah,” I agree with a slight nod, “I feel the same way.”

  Or at least I will eventually…

  Hopefully.

  “Good,” he says before flashing me a quick grin, “and just so you know—sometimes I would pretend to slack on my homework because I thought it was cute when you’d scold me. I wasn’t always late in getting it done.”

  I shouldn’t be blushing right now. But guess what? I definitely am.

  “Well, anyway,” he drawls, running a hand through his hair, “I’ll see you at lunch, yeah?”

  “Uh-huh,” I manage to reply, “see you then.”

  Being attracted to him doesn’t mean I like him.

  He turns down the other hallway, and I force myself to keep walking.

  So what if he thought it was cute when I scolded him? It’s not like that matters now. Why did he even bother to mention it anyway?

  Just forget about it, Megan.

  And I do. For a while. But once lunch period comes around, it’s at the front of my mind again. Shocker. I blame him though. He didn’t have to share that little tidbit of information with me. I wish he hadn’t.

&nb
sp; Liar.

  Unfortunately, that’s accurate.

  After getting my food from the lunch line, I look around the cafeteria for Lora.

  Yeah, that’s right. Not Brayden. LORA.

  I spot her sitting at a table by herself, and I don’t hesitate in going over there so I can sit across from her.

  “Hey,” she barely greets me, eyes glued to her phone, “what’s up?”

  “More cat videos?” I ask, eating one of my grapes. “Or are you sending more memes to Holt?”

  Because, as her best friend, it’s my job to know.

  She looks up at me with creased eyebrows. “How did—” She proceeds to curse. “He’s ridiculous. Why the heck would he even tell you about that?”

  “Apparently it’s a pretty big deal,” I tell her, widening my eyes for sarcastic emphasis. “Don’t you know what a food meme means on the relationship scale?”

  “You’re not funny, Megan,” she says with a frown. “What else did he tell you?”

  I raise an eyebrow at that. “Was there something else he should’ve told me?”

  “Stop.” She sets her phone on the table and points a finger at me. “Stop it. Put that eyebrow back down.”

  “So, did you use to send him a bunch of food memes when you were dating? Is that why he thinks you’re going to get married now?”

  She almost chokes on her soda, clearly alarmed. “What?”

  “Relax,” I verbally wave her off, “you know I’m exaggerating. But he definitely thinks that meme was significant.”

  “Let’s change the subject,” she says, taking a careful sip of her soda, “okay?”

  I eat another grape. “Sure.”

  “How’s the whole I-find-him-attractive-but-I-don’t-like-him thing going?”

  “Lora!” I hiss, glancing around the cafeteria to make sure no one heard her. And to also make sure Brayden isn’t anywhere near us.

  “I didn’t say any names,” she replies carelessly, picking up her phone, “I could’ve been talking about anyone.”

  “It’s going fine,” I say, burying my fork into my potato salad, “you can doubt me all you want…but I have this handled.”

  “Hmm,” she hums, tapping on her phone, “well that’s good, because I overheard Beth talking to one of her friends, and she made is pretty clear that she’s interested in him.”

 

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