Let Me In (27 page)
Authors: Michelle Lynn
Do you want to read Brady and Sadie’s story?
Here’s an excerpt from Don’t Let Go (The Invisibles #1)
“What are you in the mood for?” Brady asks me as his eyes roam across the different fast food places.
“I don’t know.” The last thing I want to do is eat in front of him, but I will never make it through Clinical Psych without something in my stomach. “I think I’m going to get a bagel sandwich.” I point to the bagel place.
“Sounds good.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, leading me that way. His hand radiates a wave of heat throughout my body so I start walking a few steps faster.
“You don’t have to get anything from there,” I tell him, assuming he wouldn’t enjoy it.
“What are you trying to say? A guy can’t like a bagel sandwich? Do you think I should stuff my face with fries and burgers?” His face shows no trace of humor.
“No, that’s not it. It’s just…” I try to backpedal.
“I’m kidding, Sadie. To be honest, I have never tried this place but you have piqued my interest.” We stand away from the shop to look up at the menu. “So, what do you usually get?” he asks.
“The veggie de lite.”
“Are you a vegetarian?” he inquires, sounding like it could be the worst thing in the world.
“Is that a deal breaker for you?” I ask.
“Deal breaker?” he scrunches his eyebrows, confused.
“You know, something you find out about someone that makes you not want to date them,” I answer.
“What’s yours?” he asks.
“I asked first. If I was a vegetarian, would that be a deal breaker?”
“I’m not sure anything I find out about you would be a deal breaker, but to be honest, I don’t understand vegetarians.”
“Hmm.” I turn around to give my order to the cute red head behind the counter who can’t keep her eyes off Brady.
“You never answered. Do you eat meat?” He comes up behind me.
“No, I’m not a vegetarian. I just like the sandwich,” I honestly reply. “I’ll have a veggie de lite with low fat cream cheese,” I say to the girl. Usually I get the garlic and herb spread, but I’m not about to talk to Brady with garlic breath.
“What can I get you?” The red head looks Brady up and down while her co-worker starts to make my sandwich.
“Same, but garlic and herb cream cheese.” He smiles over to me and I’m sure awe fills my face. I’m half tempted to change my order. “I hate that low fat shit.”
“They have meat, you know,” I tell him.
“I know. I want to experience why you like it so much.” He scoots next to me and my heart races when his hand brushes against mine. I quickly make my way down the line away from him.
When we get to the cash register, Brady pulls out a twenty before I can even get in my messenger bag, adding chips and drinks to our meals.
“Don’t pay for me!”
“Why not?” Brady looks around, seeing a few students peering our way after my outburst.
“This is not a date,” I confirm.
“Hey, just because I decide to buy you lunch or dinner or whatever this meal is, doesn’t mean it’s a date.” He softens his voice, getting closer to me.
“It’s just…things get implied with dates.” I’m desperate to compose myself. I don’t want to owe him anything.
“Relax, Sadie. I’ll make you a deal.” He grabs our tray and leads us to a table.
“What?” I take a seat, happy he picked a table in the back.
“You can buy me a meal tomorrow.” He smirks up at me.
“Nice, Carsen.”
“A meal for a meal, then we’re even.” He takes both straws and pounds them on the table until the wrappers fall down. He puts one in mine and the second in his own drink.
“When are your classes tomorrow?” I ask.
“Well…I live off campus and I don’t have classes on Fridays, so it will have to be later.” He takes a bite of his sandwich.
“Later, when?” I ask before I take a bit of mine.
“This is really good, you don’t even miss the meat,” he says, lifting his sandwich. “After my show,” he answers my question.
“I told you the sandwich was good. After the show, what?” I take a sip of my soda.
“I have a show tomorrow night. We will get something after I’m done,” he casually says while he continues to eat his sandwich.
“Sorry, but I’m not going to that bar, house or whatever it is from last week.” I shake my head back and forth.
He laughs. “Good, because we are playing at Aces. I’ll pick you up.”
“Um…no. Let me just give you the money.” I dig through my bag and get the ten dollars out, placing it on the table.
“That’s not the deal. A meal for a meal. Just so you know, after a show I’m so hungry you might get the raw end of this deal,” he jokes.
“I think I already got the raw end. I can’t go to your show tomorrow or out to eat,” I say, putting my sandwich down, suddenly not able to finish it.
“What do I have to do?” he asks me before he pops a chip in his mouth.
“Nothing. I don’t date.”
“Okay, it won’t be a date. A friend coming to another friend’s show and then grabbing something to eat. I will even invite my band if it makes you feel better.” His eyes are begging me and I have to admit I want to go after listening to him sing the last few days.
“Fine,” I sigh. “But I’m bringing my roommate, Jessa, with me,”
“Great, the more people the better. I’ll pick you both up.” He picks his sandwich back up, happier than before.
Where to find Don’t Let Go
Amazon
Amazon – UK
Nook
Goodreads
Here’s a sneak peak at
another Michelle Lynn’s novel - LOVE ME BACK
Chapter 1 – 11 years old
“Madeline Dolores Jennings!” Bryan yells teasingly at me from the bottom of the hill.
“What do you want, Bryan Otto Edwards?”
“Hey, I’m just joking, Maddy.” Bryan runs up the hill, throwing his arm around me. “You knew it had to be coming; I have been holding it in all day since Kenna slipped at lunch.”
I hate the days my mom “works late”. It entails me having to walk up the grassy hill from my grade school to my brother Jack’s football practice with the other latchkey brothers and sisters of the football heroes of our small town. There are four of us that make the trek every day.
Mackenna Ross is my best friend and our polar opposite personalities only enhance our different qualities. She is free-spirited, whereas I am more conservative. She speaks her mind and I keep my thoughts to myself. We share a love for tennis, swimming, and the game MASH (mansion, apartment, shack or house), where we try to map out our perfect lives.
Our brothers are teammates but not the best of friends. In fact, they have been known to fight with each other on several occasions. The most recent battle is over a girl… Cindy Rydel. I don’t see what is so intriguing about her, but I am not a seventeen year-old hormone-induced boy either. It doesn’t matter to Kenna and me that they don’t get along, so long as it doesn’t keep us away from one another.
Jack glances up to the bleachers on his way to the field, giving me a wave as he checks to make sure that I made it safely across the hill from our school. I wave back and take my seat next to MacKenna. She already has her notebook out, wanting to go first. We keep all of our MASH games in a binder, marking stars next to the lives we want. I grab her notebook, flipping to the next blank page.
“Alright Kenna, four boys?” I ask.
“Let’s do five today. I can’t decide who to leave out, Jackson or Tyler,” she says, tapping her lips with her finger.
“Fine, five,” I reply. Mackenna never changes the cars she desires or where she wants to live, but the boys’ list is forever rotating between the boys in our school.
“Ok, well my usual four boys and…” she pauses, glancing over to the field next to us where the latchkey boys are tossing a football around. “Bryan,” she says, spitting it out so fast I barely catch what she said.
“What?” I scream at her. Two days ago, Bryan told her that her butt is big, and now she is picking him to be her future husband?
“Maddy! Shhh…it’s my choice. Write it down,” she says, pointing to the paper with her neon-green painted fingernail.
“Alright, but I don’t understand you at all.” I shake my head back and forth, writing it down and hoping that the rotation eliminates him. I love Mackenna but Bryan is a jerk; I would not let her marry him.
Luckily, Mackenna ends up married to Tyler, living in a shack in California with eight kids, and driving a Range Rover. I am happy Bryan was eliminated in the third round.
“Not my best life but I’ll take it. I got my Range Rover.” Mackenna shrugs her shoulders, moving her eyes toward the grassy area again but quickly turning back toward me. “Your turn, hand it over,” she says, holding her hand out.
I dig through my bag and pull out my purple binder, handing it over to her.
“Maddy, this time you cannot put Trent down four times; you have to choose other boys.” She starts writing MASH across the white sheet of paper.
“I only did that once, Kenna.” I look over at Trent throwing the ball to Bryan. “Plus, I don’t like him anymore,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as Mackenna.
“I’ve heard that before,” she says, tapping the pen on the paper.
I have known Trent my whole life. His brother, Doug, is Jack’s best friend. We have been thrown together during our brothers’ t-ball and football practices and games, as well as too many Cub Scout events to count. We would play together when we were little, but as we get older we tend to ignore each other, doing our own thing when forced to be around one another.
Mackenna is right though. If I am being honest with myself, I have had a crush on him my whole life. I have written “Mrs. Trent Basso” millions of times and scribbled over it a zillion more. Regardless of my current feelings toward Trent, he is always on my MASH list for a future husband.
Today I hate Trent because, during recess, Evan Graham said that Trent asked him to ask me if Mackenna liked him. I tried to act as though it didn’t bother me, but I wanted to march over to Trent and kick him in the shin. I told Evan I would ask and get back to him tomorrow. I already knew her answer without having to ask her; she would never do that to me. I am so mad at Trent Basso today that I knock him down from his number one spot to my fourth option for future husband. Baby steps.
At the end of my MASH, I am married to Jimmy Schmidt, the class clown, and drive a minivan around Alaska with only one child. Not even close to my best life. I throw my binder on the bench in front of me, leaning back to enjoy the sunshine.
“Let’s do it again,” Mackenna says eagerly.
“No, I’m tired. Let’s just relax.” I don’t open my eyes. I want to empty my mind and enjoy the peace, knowing it will end when Jack and I go home.
“You go ahead and relax; I am going to play some football.” Mackenna walks down the bleachers over to Bryan, Trent, and the other boys.
I open one eye, peering down at her. I am jealous of her confidence. She just walks right up to the guys, grabs the football from Trent, and throws it to Bryan. The boys seem annoyed that she is interrupting their game but they let her join in. I see Trent trying to show her how to throw a football, but she just pushes him away and takes the ball again. I love that girl.
About fifteen minutes later, Mackenna comes running up the stairs and grabs her bag. Practice is over and the football team is making their way to the gates that enclose the field.
“Move your asses, Littles,” Trent’s brother Doug yells over to us. All the latchkey younger siblings are called “the Littles”. MacKenna is ‘Little Ross’, Trent is ‘Little Basso’, Bryan is ‘Little Edwards’, and I’m ‘Little Jennings’.
None of us say anything as we venture down to the end of the gates to meet our older siblings.
“Let’s go Mad; we’re going over to the Basso’s for dinner,” Jack says, motioning for me to hurry up.
“I’ll be right there.” I hold up my finger and give Mackenna a hug, even though I will probably talk to her in a couple of hours. I walk over to where Jack is already climbing into his Mustang, and see that Doug and Trent are already waiting for me. Doug pushes the front seat forward so I can climb in the back next to Trent.
“Hey, Maddy,” Trent says, turning his head to stare out the window.
“Hi, Trent,” I respond, staring out of my own window. That pretty much sums up our friendship lately. I have tried to figure out what happened to us but have come up with nothing.
We arrive at the Basso’s ten minutes later. They live on the outskirts of town and have acres of land with horses. Their house has a wraparound porch with flower baskets hanging out of every opening. It looks like something out of a
Better Homes and Gardens
magazine. As the Mustang comes to a stop at the top of their gravel driveway, their yellow lab greets us the second we open the door.
I bend down, letting Dixon climb on me while I pet him with both of my hands. I stand up and Dixon follows me to the front porch and into the house. I know this house as well as my own, since I have probably eaten dinner here more than mine. As soon as we walk in, Trent goes up the stairs to his room, Jack and Doug head to the basement to play pool, and I venture into the kitchen.
“I was wondering when you guys were going to get here,” Mrs. Basso says to me over her shoulder while she prepares dinner.
I sit on the stool at the breakfast bar, taking out my homework. “Hi, Mrs. Basso. Thank you for having us for dinner.” I am grateful that I didn’t have to make it myself tonight.
“Oh Maddy, you are always welcome. You know that.” Mrs. Basso turns around, smiling at me. She is the epitome of the perfect mom. She works at the local library, always has dinner on the table for her husband and boys, and she volunteers for all of the school functions and fundraisers.
“I know,” I say, and then begin to focus on my homework.
I am able to finish all of my homework while Mrs. Basso finishes dinner, humming to herself. She is always happy. I wonder what she knows that my mom doesn’t.
“Dinner, boys!” Mrs. Basso calls, taking out her ponytail and shaking her golden blond hair back and forth. She is a beautiful woman and doesn’t look her age at all.
Four boys come running in while I am setting out the plates and silverware.
“Hey, Madgirl. Long time no see,” Trent’s older brother, Gabe, says as he messes with my hair.
“Hi, Gabe,” I softly say. Gabe is fourteen and is a freshman at the high school. He doesn’t have to wait for Doug at practices because he is old enough to come home by himself.
“Where’s dad?” Doug asks, while stealing a roll out of the basket and devouring it. I can’t imagine how much food they must go through in this house with three boys.
I wonder why Mrs. Basso stays at home when her husband isn’t around. Not like my mom, who is gone as soon as my dad leaves town for a couple of days. They couldn’t be more different.
We eat the chicken and rice with broccoli, while the three older boys fight over the food. Trent is quiet, never looking up from his plate. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much? After dinner, Jack says that he wants to play one more game, so I go into the family room to watch television. Trent and Gabe are already in there. I decide to sit down on the opposite end of the couch as Trent. A couple of minutes later, Gabe leaves, mumbling something about homework.
I take this as my chance to find out what Trent’s problem is and why he is so set on ignoring me lately.
“So, you like Kenna?” I ask, not turning my head from the television.
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug.
“You don’t know? Well, why did you ask Evan to ask me to ask her then?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye to try and read his expression.
He sighs and says, “I wanted to see what you would say.”
“What do you mean? If you like her, go ahead and ask her out,” I say, even though my heart is screaming at me to say something else.
“I don’t like Kenna.” He moves closer to me on the couch. I am totally confused by this boy.
“Then why did you have Evan ask me that?” I repeat, turning to face him on the couch. We have been friends since we were in diapers. Why is everything so awkward now?
“I wanted to see if you would be jealous,” he says quietly, taking my hand and entwining our fingers.
“Did you get the reaction you wanted?” I ask, not removing my hand with his.
“No, I thought you liked me. Am I wrong?” He is staring at me now, his crystal blue eyes boring into mine. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
“You are right, I do like you.” I bite my lower lip, unsure of what happens now.
“I like you too,” Trent whispers and turns around to watch television, never letting go of my hand.
