Until It's Right

by Jamie Howard

  Me: Bear with me on the long response. It sounds like a really rough day, in more ways than one. I’d crack a joke if I thought it’d make you smile, but I get the feeling you’re beyond that right now. Dealing with exes is always hard. Trust me, I’ve got a pretty bad one myself that did a doozy on my self-confidence. As for your sister, that’s a tough situation. Is she planning on keeping the baby?

  While I wait for a response, I cross from the living room to the kitchen and snag a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. I pop off the cap and it saucers on the counter. Next to it, my phone chimes out a happy little noise that makes me want to hurl it against the wall.

  Lois: Yeah, she is. That’s why she called actually. She doesn’t have any health insurance so she asked me for money for doctor visits and tests.

  Lois: She didn’t even want to see me. I could see it written all over her face. She was forcing herself to be there even though she hated it because that’s how bad she needed the money.

  My insides twist. I can’t see her face, I can’t read her expression, but I can hear the dejected note in her text. All of a sudden it doesn’t matter what craphole situation I got myself into. I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling right now. All that matters is trying to make it better for her, any way that I can. Even if the only way that’s possible is by being Clark.

  Me: What can I do to make you feel better, even just a little bit?

  Lois: I think I’m ready for that joke now.

  Oh boy. I rack my brain trying to come up with something. All the ones I know are lame, dorky jokes. But I just need something to lighten the mood, something that’ll crack a smile.

  Me: Alright. Knock knock.

  Lois: Who’s there?

  Me: To.

  Lois: To who?

  Me: No, silly. To whom.

  I suck down a huge gulp of beer while I wait for her reaction. Rereading it, I wish I could take it back. That is probably the stupidest knock-knock joke known to man. She must think I’m an idiot.

  Finally, I get a response.

  Lois: Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed.

  Clark: Well, I’m happy to be the bright spot in your day.

  Lois: It’s more than that. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that I have you to talk to. There aren’t that many people I feel like I can open up like this to. So, thank you. Really. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.

  My insta-smile fizzles out when the implication of what she’s saying sinks in. I can’t tell her I’m Clark after she just admitted how much she relies on him. How much she needs him. Dammit. Despite the obvious kink this puts in my plan to come clean, I’m still so goddamned pleased with myself that I got her to smile after that absolutely shitty day. Well, hopefully smile. I can’t be certain.

  Grabbing the beer bottle by the neck, I settle back into the couch and flip through the channels. When it turns out that there’s nothing on, I switch over to Netflix and cue up some reruns of Doctor Who. With that as background noise, I reach for my cell so I can call Brian back. I’m about to hit Call when the phone vibrates in my hand, scaring the crap out of me. I pull up my new text message.

  Haley: Hey. Just wanted to let you know that I’m home, safe and sound. The family crisis has been handled. See you tomorrow!

  And that lighthearted feeling I was just basking in? Yeah, it’s gone. My mood plummets like a rock sinking down into a dirty pond. I shake my head to myself, trying not to be hurt by her short text. There are no details, no explanations. Apparently Kyle doesn’t rank nearly as high as Clark does.

  I keep my message brief and to the point.

  Me: Happy to hear it. See you at lunch.

  Chapter 11

  Haley

  I should’ve gone out with Tara and Delia.

  Flopping back onto the couch, I stretch my legs out along the dark microfiber and flip through the channels. There’s nothing on. Or nothing that’s going to hold my interest, anyway. I’ve been moping for weeks since I saw Beth, never going anywhere without my phone stuck in my pocket or purse. I even sleep with it underneath my pillow—just in case.

  I should know better, but there’s a part of me hoping that she’ll call. That maybe she’ll realize I’m not the bad guy Mom made me out to be. But there’ve been no calls or text messages, and I can only assume Beth got what she wanted from me and threw out my number.

  The remote clatters across the table as I toss it over, rolling onto my back. This is pathetic. I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman and I’m spending my Saturday on a couch, wearing a pair of sweatpants that has so many holes they’re the Swiss cheese of sweatpants, and a T-shirt that’s three sizes too big.

  Beth may have knocked me off my moving-on wagon, but it’s time to climb back on.

  I shoot a quick text to Tara to see where they are, hoping I might be able to catch up with them. They’ll give me crap for taking this long to change my mind, but it’s better than spending the rest of the day by myself.

  While I’m waiting to hear back from her, I shoot a text to Clark too.

  Me: I’m ready to shake off my funk and head out tonight. What’re you up to?

  When neither of them respond immediately, I head for the bathroom. If I plan on going anywhere sometime today I need a shower. Leaving my phone on the counter, I turn the water on extra hot and hop in.

  There’s still no response by the time I’m done. I frown at my phone. It’s entirely possible that Tara and Delia changed their plans; maybe they’re enjoying some alone time and I won’t hear from them. And it’s not like I’m expecting to make plans with Clark. We’re a technologically sustained friendship only.

  Although … would it be the worst thing to meet him?

  I shake the thought out of my head almost as soon as it appears. Meeting Clark would likely ruin whatever weird thing we have going right now. I wouldn’t be able to pour out all the things I’m feeling in all the dark corners of my heart that I won’t let anyone else see. The beauty of Clark is that I can tell him anything without fear of judgment. Finding out who he really is, seeing him face-to-face? It would break the spell. No, things are great the way they are and I’m not going to do anything to screw that up.

  Towel-drying my hair, I flick through my phone contacts. There has to be someone other than Tara that I could do something with tonight. I scroll past Blaire and Harrison, the two friends that Luke kept in our split. Losing Luke from my life was awful; losing the two of them on top of it made it almost unbearable. Thank God for Tara.

  I scroll through the “H”s and “J”s. My finger hesitates over Kyle’s name. We haven’t hung out together outside of work since that night he came to my rescue. In fact everything between us since that day has been tense, not quite as easy and comfortable as it used to be. Part of me wonders whether he caught on to the fact that I was developing feelings for him and is trying to pull away. Another part … well, honestly I’m not sure what else the problem could be, but I’m really hoping it’s not option one. I bite my lip, considering it. I could always extend an olive branch, right? When no objections spring to mind I type out a quick text before I can change my mind.

  Me: Hey, friend. Got any exciting Saturday plans?

  There. A nice text that’s vague enough that if he does happen to have plans he won’t feel bad that I’m the only loser on Saturday without any. Well done.

  Finally, an answer comes through.

  Kyle: I’m not sure I’d call them exciting, but yeah, I’ve got some plans.

  Damn.

  Kyle: Why, what’s up?

  I’m half tempted to reply with the absolute truth—that I’m afraid I might die of boredom if I don’t get out of this apartment. But I stick with something lighter.

  Me: Nothing. Just hanging out at home. Having one of those days where I need to get out of the house.

  My mattress squeaks as I sit down on it. There has to be something I can do. Maybe I can pull up one of the million projects I’ve pinned on Pinterest and k
eep myself occupied. I can make curtains out of tablecloths or repurpose old magazine pages into paper roses or something. That sounds … fun.

  No, I will do none of those things. I will go do my hair, get dressed, and go out by myself. I can do that. Bryce may have wrong-numbered me, and every date I’ve gone on since then has been disastrous, but the only way I’m going to find someone new is to actually put myself out there.

  Just the thought of tackling the bar scene by myself is daunting.

  Crawling up the length of my bed, I face-plant in my pillow. Or I can just order in pizza, pop in Pride and Prejudice, and go to bed early. There’s always next weekend.

  My phone chirps from somewhere down by the foot of the bed. Using my feet, I’m able to maneuver it up to my hands because I am that lazy.

  Kyle: I can’t promise you’ll have a good time, but you’re welcome to come with me if you want.

  A bubble of excitement has me sitting up in bed.

  Me: Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin your plans or anything.

  Kyle: Trust me, you’re not ruining anything. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?

  I pat a hand over my hair and dart a glance to my closet.

  Me: I can be ready in half an hour. Can you tell me where we’re going or are you going to leave me in suspense?

  Kyle: Since you put it that way, maybe I’ll let it be a surprise.

  Me: Alright … well can you at least tell me what I should wear?

  Kyle: Something casual. Jeans? Just make sure to bring your game face.

  * * *

  It takes an hour to go wherever it is we’re going. The entire time I twiddle my fingers in my lap, half anxious, half excited for whatever’s going to happen next. I frown down at my old pair of jeans, hating that I haven’t had the money to update the casual side of my wardrobe. My pants are ancient, my shirt not much newer. It’s definitely not a Sloane-approved look. Somehow I don’t think Kyle minds, but I hate resurrecting the old me.

  Kyle glances at me over his shoulder with a weak smile.

  The longer we’ve been in the car the less sure he seems about bringing me with him.

  He pulls his Countryman alongside the curb and puts it in park. I dip my head a little to get a good look out the window. We’re sitting outside a house, decent-size and with light gray siding. There’s a wide driveway with a basketball hoop hanging above double garage doors. Two giant planters overflowing with flowers flank the steps and lead to a small covered porch.

  “Are we … playing basketball?” I glance down at my boots.

  That nervous smile is back. “Not exactly.”

  I open my door, but hesitate, waiting for him to take the lead. He walks up the driveway, down the walkway, and hops up the steps. We stop outside the door.

  “Listen.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m thinking I should have told you where we were going before we got here. It’s just that, I don’t want you to read too much into this, and it’s really not that big of a deal. I—”

  The door flies open and I swear I jump a foot in the air.

  “Kyle!” A girl takes two quick steps and throws herself at him. He stumbles back but manages to brace himself against the porch railing.

  Okay, this is interesting.

  After an extra-long hug, she slides back down to the ground, her bare feet landing on the porch. She brushes a hand through her short black hair, and her bright green eyes light up when they land on me. She slugs Kyle in the arm. “You didn’t tell us you were bringing a date.”

  He glances at me sharply, the tips of his ears going red. “I didn’t—”

  “Ma!” The girl turns and yells, hurtling back the way she came. “Kyle’s got a new girlfriend!”

  “Teresa! What did I tell you about yelling!” A replying shout echoes through the house and out the front door toward us.

  Kyle runs a hand over the back of his neck, not quite looking at me. “Sorry, that’s my sister. She makes assumptions a lot.” His eyes flick to mine. “I didn’t tell her that we were dating or anything, I promise. I just don’t bring girls home really. Not that there are all that many girls to bring. I haven’t really dated anyone in a while, and well, that’s not the point. They’re worried about me. My family that is. They—”

  Footsteps thud toward us. “There you are. What is this?” A woman gestures between us. “You bring home a new girlfriend to meet your family and you don’t even bother to tell us beforehand? Your father’s not even here and look at me.” Taking a step back, she motions down toward herself. She’s got a dish towel in one hand and a pair of jeans speckled with what looks like tomato sauce. Pale blond hair is styled in a pixie cut, and crow’s-feet spread out from the corners of her brown eyes. “I look like a schlub.” She sighs, but it’s halfhearted, like her brain’s already moved on to her next thought and can’t be bothered to linger over her resignation. A grin breaks out across her face. Cupping Kyle’s cheeks in her palms, she kisses each one. “How’s my boy been, huh?” She glances at me. “Pretty good from the looks of it.” Then she adds under her breath, although it’s not even close to a whisper, “I already like her better than Stacy.”

  “Ma.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

  “Don’t ‘Ma’ me.” She swats him with the dish towel. “So, are you going to introduce me to your girl or should I try and guess her name?”

  His eyes squeeze shut for half a second, his expression dimming. But I’m the only one who catches a glimpse of it because she’s too busy looking at me, her eyes sweeping over me like she’s taking all my measurements and making mental notes.

  I feel like I’ve walked into a lion’s den with two big slices of filet mignon strapped to my chest and nothing to defend myself with but a pillow. But Kyle—his expression’s gone from embarrassed to mortified in the blink of an eye. It’s not just that though. If I’m reading him right, he almost looks … sad. Like he knows by telling them I’m not his girlfriend he’ll be letting them down, disappointing them. Just from their conversation I can tell it’s a big deal he’s brought me here. While a part of me can’t help but wonder why he brought me, the other part is so grateful to be out of the apartment that I don’t care that I’m about to get interrogated by his family.

  If pretending to be his girlfriend for the night is going to help him save face with his family, I can do that. And man, I won’t even mind pretending.

  “Mom,” he starts. “I think there’s been—”

  I cut him off, stepping forward and offering his mom my hand. “I’m Haley. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lawson.”

  She pumps my hand once and then pulls me in for a hug. “We hug here.”

  I laugh over her shoulder and peek up at Kyle.

  His mouth hangs open a little, his head cocked to the side. What are you doing? he mouths at me.

  “Come on, let’s get you two inside.” She tugs me toward the door, one arm linked through mine. I glance back at him and smile, giving him a shrug and mouthing back, Just for the night.

  Somehow I get the feeling that nothing about tonight is going to be boring.

  Chapter 12

  Kyle

  Somewhere in a parallel universe, there’s a sane Kyle who didn’t invite Haley to his family dinner. In a different version of reality there might even be a lucky version of me who’s actually dating Haley and is really bringing her home to meet his family. Unfortunately, I’m neither of those Kyles, so instead, I gape as Haley walks through the front door arm in arm with my mom.

  What the hell just happened?

  Is she pretending to be my girlfriend tonight? Because that’s either the luckiest break I’ve had in a long time or the sweetest form of torture ever invented. I’m still standing outside the door, staring down the empty doorway, when Brian appears.

  “What’s up?” He holds out his fist for me to bump.

  Dude pleasantries exchanged, I shake my head, still trying to find the words.

  “Did I hear Teresa say that’s your girl
friend?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “Not really. I mean … kinda?” I pluck off my glasses and rub my eyes. “That’s Haley.”

  He steps closer and lowers his voice. “Work Haley?”

  I nod.

  “What the hell is she doing here? Did you finally come clean?”

  “No. God, I wish, but I already told you why I can’t. She texted me and she was bored, so I invited her. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea, but it meant spending time with her and I hate that I can’t just be with her. Not that I’m entirely sure she wants to be with me, but I think she might. Except we got here and Teresa started calling her my girlfriend, and I froze, and instead of correcting them, she just went along with it.” I suck in a breath since I managed to relay all of that to Brian without once inhaling.

  “Relax.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Let the night play out, it’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be in this brainy head of yours.” Wrapping his arm around my neck, he drags me closer to him. “Bright side? She likes you enough that she’s willing to fake it for Mom and save you some embarrassment. That definitely has to mean something.”

  “I’ve gotta put an end to this Clark thing. Change my number or—”

  “Boys!” Mom’s shout pierces through the air like a javelin. “In or out. You’re letting the bugs in!”

  “You heard her.” Brian grins at me. “Don’t want to leave your new girlfriend with the piranhas for too long now, do you?”

  Oh, right. I let Haley go in the house with my Mom. Alone. Those are some brilliant boyfriend skills right there. And I wonder why I’m single.

  The thought of Mom breaking out the old photo albums and showing off a younger, paler, skinnier version of myself has me practically sprinting through the door. I skid to a halt in the living room. Haley’s holding on to a picture frame, but from my angle I can’t tell which one it is. I scan the room. Mom promised she’d get rid of that old one of me with those horrific glasses and those turquoise overalls. That’s gone, isn’t it?