Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4)

by Robin Daniels

  “Are you saying my emoji quiz doesn’t matter?”

  “Yep. Because you didn’t quiz me on any relevant emotions.”

  “I thought they were relevant,” I grumbled under my breath. Jayden’s head whipped toward me, her face a mix of surprise, confusion, curiosity, and questions. Yeah, that might have been the wrong thing to say. It was totally misleading…or not—I wasn’t sure today. I tried to gloss over my verbal diarrhea by generalizing my comment. “The emotions I gave you are the ones everybody should know, because they’re the most influential. No one is exempt from love. It can do great things for you or punch you in the gut. You should know how to express that.”

  Jayden studied me carefully. She wasn’t buying my explanation. “If you say so,” she replied, her eyes full of suspicion.

  “You disagree?”

  “Not me,” Becca blurted out. “I pretty much think you nailed it.” I’d completely forgotten she was walking with us. Awesome. Now she’d be reading into what I’d said, too. They’d go home and formulate a bunch of dumb girly theories about how I liked Jayden.

  “I don’t necessarily disagree,” Jayden continued. “It’s just hard to digest, coming from you.”

  “Why?” I scoffed.

  “Because what you said was sort of profound. Like you honestly have experience.”

  I frowned. “That was rude. What makes you think I don’t have experience?”

  Becca raised one eyebrow and spoke suggestively. “Don’t you know anything, Jayden? You never question a boy’s level of experience. I’m sure Mike has plenty of experience.” She gave us an exaggerated wink, alluding to the steamier kind of experience which usually accompanied the love emotions.

  Well, ha-ha, Becca, the joke is on you. I wonder what she’d say if she knew exactly how little experience I had in that department. Jayden was right. That’s why her words stung. I’d always felt that sex was something you only did when you knew you loved the person. And since my last official girlfriend was for less than a month, way back in the eighth grade, I hadn’t exactly found the right opportunity. Of course, when people assumed otherwise, I never corrected them. I had a reputation to uphold. Sometimes it sucked to be a guy.

  Jayden smacked Becca in the arm. “You hussy. That’s not what I meant. I was talking about experience with being in love. Get your mind out of the gutter. That’s the kind of thing I’d expect him to say.” Jayden pointed in my direction.

  Now I really was offended. “That’s not fair or nice. When have you ever heard me be crude or vulgar about sex? I might throw out a little innuendo every now and then, but have I ever been offensive or gross about it?”

  Jayden’s eyebrows bunched together. She was obviously trying to find an example but was coming up empty. After a second, she frowned and replied, “No.”

  “That’s because, unlike most guys, I have respect for experience. And despite what you may think, I have respect for girls, too.” I was trying to subdue the flames that wanted to shoot from my ears and nose. “Though, some make it harder to be respectful than others.”

  I knew I was acting like a chick. It was a stupid thing to be bothered about, but I didn’t want them thinking I’d do it with anything that had breasts. I’d become way too emotional in the last forty-eight hours. I was turning into a whimpering sap. And according to Jayden, I was already stumpy, so I didn’t need to be sappy, too. I was practically a flipping tree. And the only good thing about being a tree was the abundant supply of wood. But we’d already established that I wouldn’t need wood anytime soon.

  We approached the point where Becca needed to go a different way. She paused to speak to me. “Even if Jayden doesn’t, I appreciate your respect for girls and experience. I’m sure my dad does, too.” She smirked. “Especially since you’re taking me out on one of the most popular nights for gaining experience.” She waggled her eyebrows. “See you in an hour.”

  “Bye,” I called to Becca, then looked at Jayden. “I think I need a day off. We can study tomorrow.” I tried not to sound as upset as I felt. I couldn’t hide my anger, and I didn’t want her knowing how much she’d affected me. I’d lose the small amount of control I had in our partnership. I turned and left her standing in astonishment.

  “Mike.” Jayden stomped after me. “Are you really upset right now?” She had the nerve to sound annoyed, as if I were the one who’d been a judgmental jerk.

  “Nope,” I yelled over my shoulder, but didn’t bother to stop and face her. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll find a ride home. See you tomorrow.”

  I pulled out my phone and sent Beth a text, asking if the offer for a ride still stood. I was worried she wouldn’t see it before school let out, because she was the kind of person who’d put her phone away during class. If she didn’t get my message in time, I’d be stuck taking the bus. But that wouldn’t get me home in time to pick up the twins. And if that happened, I’d pay dearly for my little temper tantrum. It hadn’t even made me feel better.

  JAYDEN

  I met Becca after school. “Where’s Mike?” she asked.

  “He’s not coming, because he’s being a baby,” I grumbled. I knew I’d been wrong…again. I would have apologized if he hadn’t stormed off. Instead, I held on to the sliver of hope that he’d cool off in sixth hour. But he didn’t show, which meant that he hadn’t forgiven me, and I couldn’t say I was sorry. That made me grumpy.

  As if being grumpy wasn’t bad enough, I was forced to accept the truth about why I was grumpy. And it wasn’t because I’d been ditched, or because I needed help. We’d been given the week off in Spanish. Technically, I didn’t need to study until Sunday night. One missed tutoring session wouldn’t make a difference. Neither would two or three. That could only mean one thing—I wanted to hang out with him. And that was just wrong, on so many levels.

  Becca’s voice grew soft, as if she could see how tortured I was by my epiphany. “You were really harsh on him,” she said empathetically. I cringed at her kindness, because I knew on the inside she was probably yelling at me to stop being such an ill-tempered, vacillating, selfish, heartless shrew to the poor guy. Okay, fine. Becca wasn’t thinking all that—but she should be.

  “Spare me the lecture. I know I was a jerk.”

  “I wasn’t going to lecture; I’ve already done that. If you haven’t listened by now, you’re not going to. No point in wasting words on deaf ears. I would, however, like to point out that what he said about love and sex and respecting women was insanely sweet and romantic. And I think he was being sincere.”

  “Way to make me feel worse.”

  “I’m not making you feel worse. You’re making you feel worse.”

  “Cut it out with the wisdom already.”

  “Can’t. That’s my job. Just like it’s my job to buy you a Slurpee at 7-Eleven on the way home so you can drown your sorrows in sugar.”

  I chuckled morosely. “That totally is your job. I’m glad you have a solid understanding of your duties and moral obligations as a best friend.”

  Becca threw her arm around me as we walked to the car. “It’s a little self-serving. I figured I should pump you full of sugar so that you’re in a better mood if I change my mind about lecturing you.”

  We got our drinks and made it to my house before Becca brought the Mike subject up again. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I feel like I shouldn’t wait until tomorrow to apologize, but I also think a screwup like this should be addressed in person. And if I go over there, I’m worried he’ll slam the door in my face.”

  “I doubt that. He’s not nearly as mean as you are.” Becca snickered. “I think he’d at least hear you out before he slammed the door.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You should know what you’re going to say before you go over. Maybe even bring him something. A gesture of good will. A peace offering.” Becca went thoughtfully quiet. “Your best bet is food.”

  “I think we have stuff
for cookies,” I agreed with a nod as I got out of the car. “You’re a good friend, Becca. Even when I’m not.”

  “You’re a good friend, too. You just show it differently. And sometimes you get your head stuck up your butt. But that’s okay, because I’ll always pull it out if you need me to.”

  I laughed. “You could have just said that I can be self-absorbed. You know, sometimes I think you should have been the one making out with Logan. You two might have lasted. You have much more in common.”

  “Are you saying I’m immature and have a knack for potty humor?”

  “You know it.” I smiled.

  “If references about heads and butts gets me lip-locked with that fine specimen, I have no problem meeting the requirements.” Becca grinned and rolled down the window as I shut my door. “Good Luck.”

  “Thanks,” I answered, and waved good-bye.

  I walked in to an empty house. My parents would be gone for the rest of the night. Dad was working late, and mom was at Angelica’s house for the evening. It was Bunco night and Mom had invited me, but middle-aged women were scary in groups. They always talked about childbirth horror stories or dysfunctional bedroom problems. When it wasn’t a one-upping contest, it was just plain TMI. No, thank you.

  Tonight, the plan had been to enjoy my alone time with a good book and a frozen pizza. But my plans might have to wait. I didn’t know what kind of cookies were Mike’s favorite, so I went with a literal peace offering. I made round sugar cookies, then frosted them and drew peace signs in the middle of each. I thought they were cute. Hopefully, they’d make him laugh.

  Sugar cookies take a long time to make by the time you refrigerate them, roll them out, and frost them. When I’d finished my last batch, it was already 5:30. Perfect timing, since his mom should be home. I was a little worried I’d catch them in the middle of dinner, but I had to risk it, because if I didn’t go now, I’d probably chicken out.

  I arranged half a dozen of my prettiest cookies in a small Tupperware container, then opened the garage to grab my bike. An apology could take a minute or an hour, depending on how mad he was. I didn’t know which to expect, but if I walked there, he’d insist on walking me home, and I didn’t want him to if he was still upset with me.

  Seven minutes later, I was parking my bike on Mike’s sidewalk and ringing the bell. His mom answered, smiling. “Hi, Jayden, what brings you by? Did Mike forget your study plans?”

  “No, Mrs. Rodriguez, I was kind of a jerk today at school and came by to say sorry.” I lifted the lid to the cookies and let her peek at them.

  She chuckled. “I like it. I’m sure he will, too. Let me go find him; he was getting ready for his run. Do you want to come in?”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’ll wait outside. Thank you, though.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll send him right out.”

  I sat on the step and waited for a minute or two before Mike emerged from the house dressed in his full running gear. Except he was still sporting the duct-taped shoes. I nodded down at them and asked, “Do you prefer those? I thought your mom gave you money for new ones.”

  Mike looked at his feet, then back at me with a cautious smile. “I definitely do not prefer these. I just haven’t had time to go shopping. The running store closes at five, and my mom hasn’t been home early enough for me to go this week.”

  “Oh.” My answer was short, because I wasn’t sure how to start. I should have planned something, like Becca suggested. Luckily, he broke the ice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to apologize.”

  Mike sat next to me on the step. “It’s fine. I was blowing things out of proportion.”

  “No, it’s not fine. I said something rude and hurtful. You were right. You didn’t deserve to be spoken of that way, and it was unfair to make those assumptions. You’ve always been a gentleman around me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And to prove how sorry I am, I brought you a peace offering.” I handed him the container, and he snapped off the lid, then laughed. “A peace offering. That’s funny. I like it.”

  “Your mom said you would.” I grinned. “Is this enough to get me out of trouble?”

  “Depends on how good they are.” Mike picked up a cookie and took a bite. “Okay, you’re forgiven. These are awesome. Do you take requests? My favorite cookies are chocolate chip oatmeal. With milk chocolate chips, not semisweet.”

  “I’ll consider it.” I laughed. “But don’t go picking fights just so you can get make-up cookies. You only get them if I’m the one who screwed up.”

  “Deal,” Mike answered.

  It was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. Finally, I stood and said, “Well, I better get going.”

  “Do you have something important to do?” he asked.

  “Me? No, but I thought you were going for a run. I, on the other hand, have a whole lot of nothing planned for the night. Both of my parents will be home late, so it’s only me and Tony.”

  “Tony?” Mike asked, sounding a bit alarmed. It was cute.

  “Yeah. Tony’s frozen pizza.”

  “Oh.” Mike looked relieved. “Is that your bike? I’ve always thought beach cruisers were cool, but they look so girly. I wish I could get away with a basket on the front of my bike.”

  “Yep,” I answered slowly, popping my p. “That’s my bike. The basket comes in handy when you deliver cookies and stuff.” This small talk was killing me, and Mike looked like he had something more to say. He’d forgiven me, so there was no need for either of us to walk on eggshells. “I know you want to say something, so spit it out already.”

  “Nice to have you back, brat.” Mike grinned. “Okay, this might sound crazy, but do you want to go on my run with me?”

  “Um, yeah, that’s crazy, like committable.” The boy had lost his mind. “Are you still mad, and this is your plan to kill me while making it look totally accidental?”

  “No, I don’t like running alone. I’m not sure why, since it’s hard to talk while I run. It messes with my breathing. But for some reason, it’s nice to know someone is there.”

  “I would, honestly. But I’d only be able to do a couple miles, and not at the pace you do them. I’m more of a ten-minute-mile kind of girl.” I laughed, because that wasn’t an exaggeration. It’d probably take me ten minutes to run a mile, then I’d have to sit down and rest for twice as long. I’d never been very athletic.

  “What if you rode your bike next to me while I ran?” he asked.

  I scrunched up my face in thought. “I guess that could work. As long as we don’t go up a bunch of hills.”

  “I promise to do a flat run. Please come. I’ve had a bad afternoon, and I need some motivation today.”

  “How am I supposed to motivate you? Do you want me to yell at you with a bullhorn like Mr. Thompson does?” I snickered. I’d said it as a joke, but the idea had merit.

  Mike laughed. “That won’t be necessary. How did you know he does that?”

  “The whole school knows. You guys run on public streets. I think it sounds like fun being the cross-country coach. It would be a perfect part-time job for me since I enjoy demanding things from people, and I’m great with verbal lashings. I bet I’m even better with a bullhorn.”

  “I’m sure you would enjoy it.” Mike had a gleam in his eye. “Probably a little too much, though. Coach uses the horn to be heard, not to beat us up. I wouldn’t say he’s demanding. He’s trying to push us. That’s his job.”

  “Becca’s dad says it’s not fair that your coach gets a golf cart and a bullhorn when nobody else does. But I don’t know what he’d do with them if he had them. Can you imagine him following you guys up and down the sidelines in a golf cart, yelling at you through a bullhorn? From two feet away?”

  “Oh my gosh. Please don’t ever say that in front of him. Even though you’re joking, he’d probably think it was a great idea. And that man definitely doesn’t need a bullhorn to be heard. Besides, it’s not l
ike Coach T got those things from the school. He bought them himself to make his job more effective. He really loves coaching, which is good since it probably took three years of coaching stipend to pay for the cart.”

  “Coaches don’t get paid enough,” I said. “Neither do teachers. Especially ones like Mr. Thompson.”

  “Agreed. Now back to the question that you’ve so skillfully avoided. Is it a yes or a no on joining me?”

  Busted! I sighed. How bad could it be? “Sure, why not?” I shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “Cool. Let me tell my mom I’m leaving and get my water. Do you want a bottle?”

  “Yes, please.” Mike nodded and disappeared into the house. He came back with a water bottle and placed it in my basket. “Where’s your water?” I asked in confusion. “Don’t you need one on a run that long?”

  “Yes, but I carry a CamelBak.” He nodded to the small backpack he was wearing.

  “Doesn’t the weight of it slow you down?”

  “A little. But not as bad as wearing a bottle on the dorky utility belt I have. That messes with my arm swing. The worst is having to hold my water. That really screws me up.”

  “Okay then, let’s get this torture session started. You lead the way, and I’ll try not to talk too much.”

  “Ha. We’ll see about that.”

  We took off at a decent pace. Mike wasn’t joking. He barely spoke, but that was all right. I thought I might get bored if we weren’t talking, but I didn’t. It was fascinating to watch him run. His legs were long and lean. His arms were, too, and he was sweating, but it wasn’t gross because it only proved how hard he was working. It was kind of beautiful to see how graceful he made something as commonplace as running.

  Mike was so focused that he had everything down to a science. He was wearing a watch with a timer that helped him mark his pace at certain points. I did bother him once to ask how he knew when to record his times. He told me that he had a few different routes with varying degrees of difficulty and that he’d mapped them out in quarter-mile intervals. I was really impressed. He was more dedicated to his sport than I had ever been with anything. Even the violin. I loved it, but it wasn’t part of me.