by Jamie Howard
“This is a beautiful picture,” Haley says. “You look fantastic.”
Mom grabs on to the edge of the gold frame and tilts it toward her. “Well, that’s one of the benefits of not being pregnant, right? You get to look good in all the pictures with the new baby.”
Haley shifts uneasily on her feet and her fingers fidgeting against her pants.
Mom laughs and rests a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry; it’s never been a big secret around here. I just assumed you knew Kyle’s adopted.”
“Oh.” I can see the puzzle pieces click together in her head. “Are Brian and Teresa … ?”
“The doctors told us that we couldn’t get pregnant. But what do doctors know, right?” Mom laughs and ruffles her fingers through her short hair. “Brian was a shock, and we adopted Teresa a few years later.” She glances back over her shoulder, having no doubt sensed me with her impeccable Mom-dar, and pins my gaze with hers. “We’ve been so blessed with the family we’ve been given. I couldn’t ask for more amazing kids.”
Haley turns and catches sight of me. Hastily setting down the frame, she slides her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looking like she just got caught stealing or something equally nefarious.
“Oven timer!” Mom shouts, drawing startled glances from me and Haley. She points a finger in the air and disappears toward the kitchen. I don’t care what she said, my ears are fully functional and I didn’t hear a thing.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop—”
I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s really not a big deal. She wasn’t lying when she said it wasn’t a secret. It just never came up.” That comment gives me a quick flashback to Haley spilling her family secrets to Clark. Damn him.
“Your mom is really great.” She smiles at me, but it’s pinched at the corners, like she’s forcing it to stay in place. “Is this a regular occurrence or am I interrupting some special occasion?”
I lean my hip against the old blue recliner. “Every other Saturday, like clockwork.”
“That’s—”
“Kinda lame? Yeah, I know. What self-respecting twenty-four-year-old is hanging out with his family on Saturday nights and not hitting the clubs, right?”
She chuckles. “I was actually going to say that it’s really nice. There’s something to be said about a guy who cares enough about his family to give up his weekend to spend time with them.”
Warmth tingles in the back of my neck, and my tongue feels like it’s gone to sleep in my mouth. I poke my brain to try and wake it up, but it doesn’t produce any amazing one-liners. The only words it pops out for me to choose from are “cheese,” “rabbit,” and “vacuum.” None of which I can make an intelligible sentence out of.
This happens to me all the time. I manage to get a date and anytime things are going remotely well, it’s like my brain has a seizure and forgets how to function. But this isn’t a date. This is Haley. I can be me with Haley. Is just the thought of her pretending to be my girlfriend so anxiety-inducing that she’s having this effect on me?
Teresa latches on to the doorframe and pokes her head into the room. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s go, you two. Stop trying to make out with your girlfriend in the living room.” She winks at me, and I have an instant urge to strangle her. In the most loving way possible of course. Teenagerhood has turned Teresa into a nosy, loudmouthed little thing.
Haley snorts, but I can feel how red my face is.
“Come on.”
She holds out her hand to me and I barely hesitate before giving her mine. My mind pinballs between two thoughts—God her skin is so soft and Crap, I hope she doesn’t notice how sweaty my hand is.
Chapter 13
Haley
My stomach’s ready to explode from Mrs. Lawson’s lasagna. I love any kind of pasta, but this one takes the cake. And speaking of cake, or pie rather—Brian slides a plate of apple pie across the table to me. A glob of ice cream sits on top of it, melting and dripping off the sides of the crust.
I lay a hand over my abdomen. “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“Hang on to it,” he says. “You can pick at it while we play.”
“Play?”
Brian flashes me a smile full of bright white teeth. “He didn’t tell you about game night?”
I elbow Kyle in the ribs and he jumps. “What else haven’t you told me?”
Panic flashes across his face. “Oh, umm … I—”
“Relax.” I squeeze his leg affectionately under the table. When his face turns an extremely dark shade of red, I quickly let go and pull my hand back into my lap. Too far, I guess?
Brian buries his smile in his glass of milk and Teresa pinches her lips together, suddenly fascinated by her manicure. Mrs. Lawson breaks the awkward tension when she reappears in the dining room, a Scrabble box in her hands. She sets the box on the long table, and Teresa rips off the lid while Brian snags the bag of tiles.
“I’m assuming you know how to play?” Brian asks, his attention not deviating from a small notebook he pulls out of the box.
“I’ve played a few times. I wouldn’t call myself an expert or anything.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Brian rolls his eyes. “Kyle always wins anyway.”
“Hey, that’s not true. I’ve won two games.” Teresa points at a page in the notebook and I squint at it but can’t make out the tiny writing.
“Three for me,” Mrs. Lawson adds. “And another three for my absentee husband.”
Brian huffs under his breath and I wonder if he’s got any wins at all.
“How many do you have?” I turn and ask Kyle.
He twists his fork in between his long fingers, then pokes at his pie. “I don’t remember.”
“Twenty-one,” Brian says, giving him a meaningful look.
Well, either Kyle’s family is terrible at this game or he’s very, very good. I’d put my money on the latter.
“Don’t expect too much out of me.” I give my head a small shake. “I’m not a seasoned player like the rest of you.”
“Hey Brian, maybe that means you won’t come in last for once.” Teresa smirks at him. She flinches and mutters a curse under her breath and I can only assume he kicked her under the table. A small knot tightens in my chest. It’s been there ever since dinner as I watched the three of them laugh and joke and tease each other. Would my sisters and I have been like that if I’d stayed?
“Alright, newbie.” Brian holds the bag out to me and draws me back into the here and now. “Pick a letter. Let’s see who goes first.”
I wouldn’t call the game a massacre, but I wouldn’t call it a close one either. After Kyle played “muzjik” for ninety-three points it was pretty much over. I made a mental note to do some Googling when I get home to find out who or what a muzjik is. The rest of us battled it out for second place, since first was out of reach. I landed right in the middle of the pack, with Kyle and Mrs. Lawson taking first and second place, Teresa swiping fourth, and Brian landing in last.
Brian picks the tiles up one by one from the board. They clink together as he drops them in the bag. “I told you. He’s always kicking our asses.” A devilish smile slides across his face. “Too bad he can’t say the same about his baseball team.”
Kyle rolls his eyes. “Sorry we don’t have enough money to buy championships.”
“Don’t give me that crap. With revenue sharing you guys get more than your share of money. Just because you can’t put it to good use isn’t our problem.”
Kyle cups his hands around his lips and mouths to me: Yankees fan.
“Ugh.” I grimace. “You know I was actually starting to like you, but nope. I take it back.”
Brian points at me. “You’re a Braves fan too?”
“Please don’t insult me. I’m a Mets fan.”
Brian snorts. “Braves, Mets—we’ve beat you both.”
Leaning my chin in my hand, I tilt my head to the side. “Remind me, when was the last time you made it to th
e World Series? Because I’m pretty sure it’s been a while. Longer than my Mets if I remember correctly.”
“We lost two Hall of Fame players in Jeter and Rivera; it’s going to take a little bit to recover from that. And I’m sorry but I wouldn’t be all high-and-mighty about losing in the World Series.”
I laugh under my breath and shake my head. “We could have this debate all night.” Scooting back my chair, I ask, “Can one of you point me in the direction of the bathroom?”
Kyle leans his chair back on two legs, the tips of his sneakers just touching the ground. He points behind me. “Down that hall, first door on your left.”
“Thanks.”
The carpet squishes under my boots and I can’t help peeking around as I make my way to the bathroom. The walls are painted in soft greens and blues, and there’s an abundance of picture frames clustered on end tables and shelves. Everything about this house radiates warmth and family. I wish I could bottle up the feeling and take it home with me.
Popping the lock on the bathroom door behind me, I do my business and take a quick scan of my phone. I haven’t checked it since we got here. Haven’t even thought to, really. There’s nothing from Clark, which is slightly disappointing, but I’ve got a few messages from Tara.
Tara: Sorry, we went to a movie and my phone was off. Wanna meet up for dinner?
Tara: Please tell me you didn’t fall into a pizza coma and are asleep before seven.
Tara: Just kidding, found your note. Hope you’re having a good night with Kyle!
Tara: Is this the same Kyle from work whose place I picked you up from the other night? Because he was super cute.
Tara: Delia and I are crashing here tonight. My apologies in advance for any strange noises you might hear.
I’ll catch up with her later. I have no interest in interrupting any of that. I flip back over to my unanswered message to Clark. I’d completely forgotten I’d even texted him. It’s strange that he hasn’t answered me, but it is Saturday night. He’s probably out, maybe having a successful date for once. A small pang trespasses across my heart at the thought of him out with someone else. I shake it off. What a stupid thought. Things aren’t like that between us.
Washing my hands, I dry them on a soft green towel and tuck my phone away. When I make my way back, the dining room is empty. The sound of water running pours out of the kitchen, so I make my way in that direction.
Pausing in the doorway, I find Kyle leaning over the sink. He’s got one hand wrapped around the edge of the counter as he bends forward, and the sprayer gripped in the other. But he isn’t washing any dishes, he’s just staring into the sink like he’s watching the water drain.
I step up behind him and lay a hand on his waist. “You alright?”
He jumps and spins simultaneously. The sprayer goes haywire in his clenched fist and he manages to shower water over the cabinets, the countertop, the floor, and my face.
A droplet of water careens down my cheek and plummets off my chin, splattering in the smallest possible puddle on the tile floor.
“Crap, I am so sorry. I didn’t hear you.” He runs a hand over his face.
“It’s alright. My fault. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” I flick another drop off my cheek. “I didn’t realize you were so jumpy.” I smile up at him, but he winces and blows out a breath.
His eyes travel over my face, and as if he’s finally reacting to the situation, he reaches for a towel. “I didn’t get you too bad, did I?”
Reaching out with the towel, he dabs it across my forehead and then down over my cheek. He swipes it so delicately over my neck that the faint touch sends goose bumps shivering down my arms. I’m standing in Kyle’s mom’s kitchen and he’s drying me off with this frilly yellow towel that is the furthest thing from sexy, but there’s something about it that’s … turning me on a little.
My breath freezes in my chest. I must have made some little noise, because he stops patting me with the towel and his eyes snap up to mine. Our gazes lock together and I can’t move, I can’t breathe. It’s like everything else in the world fades away to nothing and there’s just this—his eyes on mine, the pad of his thumb trailing against my cheek. The moment stretches until it’s impossibly long.
And then it snaps.
“Guys, you wanna watch a movie?” Teresa asks, her eyes intent on her cell phone.
Kyle snatches his hand back to his side and takes a quick step backward.
I go to speak but nothing comes out on my first attempt. I try again. “Sure.”
“Great.” She divides a look between the two of us, and one corner of her mouth curves up. “Five minutes and we’re starting it without you.”
Her sneakers squeak across the floor as she disappears back the way she came.
“I’m just gonna finish cleaning up in here.” Kyle balls up the towel and tosses it on the counter. “Go on in, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Are you sure, I could—”
“I got it.” A muscle bunches in his cheek, but he’s too busy staring down the roll of paper towels to look at me.
“Alright.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I leave him. I’m not sure what just happened, but it’s almost like I crossed a line. Or at least that’s the way Kyle’s acting. Like I did something to offend him.
This was a dumb idea. I should’ve told his mom to begin with we weren’t together. I thought it was the right move, but maybe it was the exact wrong thing to do. It’s been easy, almost too easy, pretending we’re a couple. At least for me. Kyle on the other hand has been jumpy and uncomfortable-looking all night long. Dammit. Did I screw this up?
Walking into the living room, I find Mrs. Lawson in the recliner. Brian and Teresa are sprawled across half of the couch. I sit in the open space, trying to leave as much room for Kyle as I can, but it’s not a whole lot.
He saunters in the room just as the opening credits come across the screen. With a glance he takes in the seating situation, clenches his jaw, and squeezes into the tiny spot left for him. At first we’re all smooshed together, side by side, our arms pressing awkwardly into each other. After a minute or two of shifting, he finally slides his right arm up onto the back of the couch, allowing me to scoot into him.
My head fits comfortably against his chest, and his hand drops onto my shoulder. He’s warm and smells good, and I don’t think I’ve been this comfortable in ages. I curl my legs up underneath me, and my muscles uncoil as I relax. In no time at all I find myself drifting off to the unsteady cadence of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
Chapter 14
Kyle
The movie’s been over for twenty minutes now. Everyone else has already headed upstairs and is getting ready for bed. Since it got so late, even Brian’s crashing for the night, rather than heading back to the dorms. Haley’s fast asleep, snuggled into my side. Her hair drifted in front of her face, and a small section of it puffs out every time she exhales. I haven’t gotten up the courage to wake her yet.
This whole night has been a total mind-fuck. Pretending that we’re a couple is royally messing with my heart. How is it freaking possible that I finally found a girl I could fall for and I can’t let it happen because she “met” Clark first? I hate this. I hate the fictional me.
The worst part is how perfect it all is. My family loves her, and what’s not to love? She’s smart and genuine; she schooled Brian on baseball, too. After tonight, this crush I’ve been nursing for her has been blown way out of proportion. All the touching hasn’t helped either. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she laid her hand on my thigh, or skimmed her fingers over my waist. She did it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It’s ridiculous how much I want it to be.
I trail my fingers down her arm and let out a sigh. I need to get a grip. Tonight has been a nightmarish fantasy. As awful as some parts of it have been, I’m sad to see it end. This might be the only chance I’ll ever get to enjoy the experience of Haley being my girlfriend
.
“Haley.”
She grumbles, tucking herself tighter against me, and her hand drifts up and settles on my stomach. I curse under my breath. This is the most action I’ve gotten in almost a year, and the below-the-belt parts of me are starting to sit up and take notice.
“Haley.” I give her a little shake and her eyes blink open slowly. Her gaze sweeps over the room like she’s trying to place herself.
Pushing herself up, she rubs a hand over her face. “What time is it?”
“Late.” I twist my wrist to look at my watch. “Almost one.”
She stretches next to me, but hasn’t moved away, so I can feel the muscles in her thigh flex against mine. A yawn has her covering her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.” She laughs lightly. “Literally and figuratively.”
“No problem.” I nudge her shoulder with mine. If she’s comfortable with the touching, I can be too. I just have to be really careful not to cross that line with her. “You’re kinda cute when you snore.”
“What?” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Did they hear me? You let me snore in front of everyone?”
“I’m kidding. Sorry. You should see the look on your face.”
She swats me lightly in the arm. “Jerk.”
I clamp my fist to my mouth as a yawn overtakes me. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yup.”
I stand and stretch, fighting back another yawn. The light blinks on in the hallway and Mom steps into the doorway, her purple robe cinched tight across her waist.
“You two still here?”
“Just packing up,” I say.
Mom crosses her arms, pulling the edges of her robe a little tighter together. “You’re more than welcome to stay if you’d like.”
“Oh, umm…” I glance at Haley. Personally, I wouldn’t mind crashing here for the night. It kinda feels like I’ve got sand in my eyes and I’d be out in seconds as soon as my head hit a pillow. But I don’t want to put Haley in an awkward position. Or a more awkward position.
Haley hesitates.
“I just worry, you know?” Mom says. “It’s late and really dark. You both must be exhausted and it’s a long drive.”