The Boyfriend Bet (Boyfriend Chronicles #2) (9 page)

“It all worked out in the end,” I said. And it had, in a non-date way, which was the way it was supposed to work. “See you guys later.” I headed for the door, leaving Delia to say her goodbyes. She joined me before my feet hit the bottom step of the front porch but waited until we were in my car to speak.

“That was fun in a weird platonic sort of way.”

“Yeah, there was a definite lack of flirting this evening.” It was like Grant had pitched camp on the other side of the dating line and he didn’t want to cross it.

“I guess we’ll just wait and see if anything interesting happens,” Delia said.

Chapter Nine

Zoe

I spotted Aiden and Delia drinking coffee together on the quad. Delia held two coffees, one of which should be for me, so she maintained her status as my best friend. Grant wasn’t in the immediate area. Not that I was looking for him, but I thought it was a good idea to keep tabs on him to avoid any awkwardness.

Delia toasted my approach with one of the coffee cups and stepped away from Aiden. “Wait until you try this.”

“As long as it’s coffee, I’m good.” I took a sip and tasted hot cocoa with a hint of coffee. “What is this?”

“It’s the only way I drink coffee,” Aiden said. “Half cocoa half coffee. That way it kills the coffee flavor.”

“It’s good.” The downside to this concoction…did it only have half the caffeine? Because I was pretty sure I’d miss the normal amount.

The tone for first hour sounded. I shuffled along with the horde of half-awake students to first hour, congratulating myself on not asking Aiden where Grant might be.

Lena seemed half asleep during class, which was fine by me. Delia and I ate lunch together sans any males, friend or otherwise. And then it was off to Foods. Grant came to class late looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. I’d never seen him looking less than stellar, which made me think something had to be wrong.

Grant gave Ms. Ida a note and came to sit at our normal table.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. I recognized his expression. It was the same one Jack had worn after my dad and grandfather passed away. His lips were tight. His eyes were narrowed.

I reached over and squeezed his forearm. “I know something is wrong. You don’t have to share details, but I can listen if you need to talk.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet my gaze. Ms. Ida sent us back to our kitchens with instructions to measure out ingredients for mac ’n cheese. Not difficult. I filled the Ziploc bags and passed them off to Grant so he could write on them with a blue sharpie.

We were cleaning up when his cell beeped. He pulled it out and read a text. His response was immediate. He relaxed like a soldier who no longer had to stand at attention because the immediate threat had passed.

“Things are better now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Acting on impulse, I gave him a quick hug before heading off to grab my backpack.

…

Grant

I could breathe again. My dad had been taken to the hospital last night when he’d had a severe allergic reaction to some new food at a party. If my mom had been near him she would have told him he couldn’t eat whatever it was, but she’d been across the room socializing and didn’t realize what happened until after his eyes and throat started swelling shut. The EpiPen he’d had in his car had been out of date. An ambulance had been called. He’d been given steroids and was recovering in the hospital but my mother had sent me off to school because my pacing was making her nervous.

The text from my mom said he was awake and apologizing for not being more careful. Maybe my mom’s hands-on approach wasn’t such a bad idea. My dad was kind of like the absent-minded-professor type. He’d often become absorbed in his projects and forget to eat. My mom always made sure he was okay. Lately they’d been spending more time apart, which neither of them seemed to mind. Would this set them back on a path to being closer or happier? I hated that it took something like this, but I hoped it would help.

What Zoe had done, just being there for me without asking for anything was nice. I didn’t have many people in my life like that who weren’t family. And we’d had fun at that weird Art of Tea place. Maybe she
was
the type of girl I needed. Maybe I should ask her out, see if she wanted to try dating again.

I grabbed my backpack and jogged after her. She’d already gone into her classroom. I checked the time. We had a few minutes so I waved at her from the doorway. She joined me in the hall. “Is everything all right?”

“It is. I just wanted to say thanks for being supportive.”

“That’s what friends are for.” She smacked me on the shoulder. “You better get to class.”

Friends. Oh, hell. I
had
been friend-zoned. I headed to my next class. I needed a plan. A plan to move me from the friend-zone category I seemed to be stuck in—for the first time ever. Not that I hadn’t friend-zoned girls, but having it turned around sucked. I bet she was still interested.

“Everything all right?” Aiden asked when I sat behind him in class.

I nodded. “My dad’s awake and talking.”

“Good.” He smacked me on the shoulder in the exact manner Zoe had. That settled it.

“I think it’s time for me to get Zoe back.”

Aiden’s eyebrows came together like he was confused. “For what?”

“Not like that. I mean I want to date her.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “That makes more sense. Think she’s still interested?”

I glared at him. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

He shrugged. “Seems like you two work as friends, like Delia and me. That’s all I’m saying.”

After class, I received another text telling me my dad was being released from the hospital. The rest of the school day flew by. Any problems paled in comparison to the worrying I’d done about my dad.

That night he slept through dinner, while my mother and I shared Chinese carry-out. Dark circles stood out under her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She sipped her wine and stared off into space. “Actually that’s a lie. I’m angry at your father for eating something he didn’t recognize. He should know better than that. I’m angry at myself for not paying more attention to him.”

I had no idea how to respond to that. “He made a mistake.”

She set her wine glass down. “I’ve always taken care of your father. That was my role. Lately, I’ve backed off because he seemed to resent it.”

“Dad told me that you guided him into asking you out.” I chuckled. “He thought you wanted help with your homework.”

She smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen in awhile. “I kept waiting for him to take the lead. I grew tired of waiting and took control of the situation. Back then he didn’t seem to mind.”

Neither of my parents seemed happy with their marriage lately. Maybe my filter was off because I hadn’t slept much last night because I said, “Are you guys getting divorced?”

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

“It sounds like you used to be happy and now you’re not.”

“It’s not as simple as being happy or unhappy. Everything isn’t as black and white when you’re a grown-up. You’ll find that out one day. Speaking of which, I ran into Lena’s mother at the party. She said you two aren’t seeing each other anymore. Why is that?”

No way could I tell my mother that Lena’s controlling ways, which seemed to be the same way my mother treated my father, made me feel trapped and claustrophobic. “We wanted different things.”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“I’ve gone on a few dates. Nothing serious.”

“A girl like Lena would be an asset to your life. Remember that. There will be a window of time where you can get her back. If you wait too long it will be over.”

Later that night, my dad felt well enough to sit in the living room. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked older than he had the day before.

He caught me studying him. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?”

“I’m sure your mother told you about how I let the EpiPen in my car expire and how I should have known better than to try something without first asking if it was nut free.”

“You made a mistake. No big deal.” I tried to sound like I meant it, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded. “Mom’s not blaming you.”

“Right.” He settled back into his chair. “Assigning blame is one of her specialties.”

Now my dad sounded like a jerk. I didn’t know how to respond, so I turned the volume up on the television. Maybe zombie aliens would improve my mood.

…

Zoe

Delia and I practiced our cake baking skills Wednesday night after school. Our book cake came out a little lopsided.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Jack asked.

“It’s supposed to be an open book.” We’d made a nine by thirteen rectangular cake and then added two square cakes on top to represent the pages.

“Looks like a Lego,” my brother offered.

He wasn’t wrong. “I think we need to see if we can find any cake pans shaped like books.”

“In the meantime,” Delia grabbed the bowl of frosting off the counter and dropped a glop of it onto the cake, “we can ice this and eat it while we cruise Google for a cake-shaped pan.”

Jack grabbed a hunk of cake and took a bite. “It might look weird, but it tastes good.”

“Thanks.” I took a bite and realized he was right. “Maybe we need another plan for the fundraiser. I don’t want to spend money on a pan.”

“Maybe we just make it a closed book and use the rectangular pan. That would be easier.” Delia shoved a spoonful of icing in her mouth.

I doubted a plain rectangular cake would bring the highest donation. “I want something with more flair.”

Jack cut another hunk of cake. “You keep working on it, and I’ll help get rid of the rejects.”

“Gee thanks,” Delia said.

“Happy to help.” Jack wolfed down his cake and exited the kitchen leaving his dirty plate on the counter.

I would have yelled at him, but I was grateful he was relocating so Delia and I could talk.

“Is it me,” I asked, “or does it seem like Grant is flirting with me?” He’d been oddly attentive before school and he’d sat with us several days at lunch.

“It’s not just you. He seems to be making a move again. Maybe he figures if Aiden ever asks me out then he should ask you out.”

“That’s flattering. Dating by convenience.”

Delia laughed. “Hey, if you like him, does it matter why he asks you out?”

“Yes.” I put the dirty dishes into the sink and rinsed them off. “I want someone to choose me because he likes me. Not just because I’m there. This conversation is stupid. It’s not like he’s asked me out. He could just be flirting because that’s how he treats all girls.”

“He doesn’t flirt with Amber.” Delia opened the dishwasher and frowned when she saw they were clean. “Crap. Do you want to empty the clean dishes or do the dirty dishes by hand?”

“Hand me the silverware basket.” I took the silverware from Delia and put it away while she put the glasses in the cabinet above the sink. “If Grant is flirting, what’s his agenda?”

“I’m guessing he’ll want to date, but not exclusively.”

I finished the silverware and grabbed a stack of plates. “Is it wrong that I don’t want to just date?”

“Maybe that’s how all couples start out because guys are afraid to commit.”

Was she right? “Once again, this is a stupid conversation because he hasn’t asked me out. Why am I worrying about something that might not even happen?”

“We’re teenagers. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” Delia asked. “Be all angst-y about our lives?”

I laughed. “True. Instead of being angst-y let’s make plans for the weekend.”

Delia put away the last clean dish. “I did your hair last weekend, so that’s out.”

The phone rang. Caller ID showed it was my cousin Jane. “Hello, cuz. Long time no see.”

“That’s exactly why I’m calling. Want a visitor, or maybe two, this weekend?”

“You’re in luck. Delia and I were just discussing our lack of plans.”

“Problem solved. You’ll hang out with your fabulous cousin and her new boyfriend.”

“Oh, okay.” My enthusiasm dwindled. Not that I wasn’t happy for Jane, but being a third wheel was never a good idea.

“Stop that,” she said. “No one will be a third wheel.”

“When did you become psychic?” I asked.

Jane laughed. “I know you. Don’t worry. Nathan’s dad arranged for him to spend time in a lab job shadowing people doing scienc-y things.”

“Scienc-y things?” Jane always had a way with words.

“It’s a technical term. Anyway, Nathan will do his thing while I spend time with you. Then all of us can go to a late lunch together. Delia is invited, of course.”

“Hold on.” I moved the phone away from my mouth and explained the plan to Delia. “Sound good?”

“Can I mess with her hair?” Delia asked.

I laughed. Delia had been trying to get her hands on Jane’s hair for ages. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but Delia claimed that Jane wasn’t using her thick straight hair to its full potential.

“Absolutely not,” came through the phone loud enough for both of us to hear.

…

Jane arrived on my front porch wearing what looked like pirate boots, skinny jeans, and the fuzziest sweater I’d ever seen. When I hugged her it felt like I was grabbing a bunny.

“What’s with all the fluffiness?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Nathan gave me this sweater. I figured if I wore it here the only people who’d see me would be you two and some strangers.”

“So he’s not the perfect guy?”

Jane pulled her cell from her bag and pulled up a picture. She passed the phone to me. A dark haired guy with dark eyes and a jaw like one of those Greek statues smiled at me. “Wait. I changed my mind. He is perfect.”

Jane snatched her phone back. “He’s a hottie, but his taste in clothes is suspect.” Jane held out her arms. “I Googled the designer name on the label, and this ridiculous sweater cost more than my entire wardrobe put together.”

I led Jane into the living room where we sat on the couch. “Is that because you treasure hunt for your clothes at Goodwill, or do you mean normal clothes?”

“Regular clothes.” Jane held out her arm and blew on the inch long strands of turquoise fluff, which seemed to grow from the fabric. “He said his mom helped pick it out.”

“It’s a pretty color,” I offered.

Someone knocked on the front door, and then opened it. Delia bounded into the room and started to say hello, but then she laughed. “What is that crime against fashion you’re wearing?”

“A gift from a wonderful guy whose mother might hate me,” Jane said.

Delia tilted her head. “Maybe she thinks you’re precious and wants to wrap you up in soft fuzziness, so you won’t get hurt.”

“Right. This sweater leads me toward our mission for today. It’s called Operation-buy-me-a-new-shirt. I’m going to spill a soda on this one as soon as we get to the mall. That way I don’t have to wear it all day.”