All I Can't Resist (3 page)

She cuts her pancake into tiny little pieces as she asks me this, holding her fork and knife in the exact right way, like she’s out for a fancy dinner at The Plaza and not in the dinning room of our house with my dad and I.

“Good, we got a lot done.” I take a huge sip of my orange juice to buy some time.

I usually never lie to my parents, and I know my dad wouldn’t care what I did last night as long as I made smart choices. My mother, on the other hand, thinks that any time spent not doing schoolwork, or other things to better my future, is time wasted.

She looks at my cup of juice, obviously displeased, but says nothing. Instead, she takes a sip from the small cup of coffee in front of her. After swallowing she takes a tiny bite of her pancakes, which have little, if any, syrup dripping off of them. She then allows a small smile to spread across her lips before speaking again.

“I’m glad. You know, if you stay focused the way your sister did around this time of the year your future can be sealed securely for you. You too could have a full ride to any top university you choose. Don’t be fooled, your sister has always been gifted. But that just means you have to work extra hard to get to where you want to be. Nothing wrong with that. Most people are average after all, and that doesn’t stop many of them.”

I stuff another huge bite of delicious fried batter into my mouth, making sure I chew with my mouth closed this time, and try not to roll my eyes. This is a speech I have heard way too many times before. Just like Kate’s annoying habit of venting about her teachers who can’t teach, this conversation is on repeat in my life. Over and over again until I fear I might go just a little insane.

“I know,” I tell her confidently, after I finally swallow. “I’m focused. Trust me.”

“Well,” my dad says snapping the paper shut in front of him, “that’s enough school talk for the day. What are you going to do on your day off?”

Today is some type of teacher’s workday, so we don’t have school, which is probably why my mom let me go to Veronica’s to study last night. Normally, she would go on and on about how I need at least eight hours of sleep a night to be alert and on my game for my school classes.

This is a trick question. I can feel my mom’s eyes on me from the other side of the table, waiting to hear my answer. I know what she wants me to say and I know what I actually want to say. So I decide on a compromise of both.

“I thought I would spend the morning and afternoon studying and then maybe go out to dinner with Veronica later. Maybe pizza outside at Mo’s, if the weather is nice enough.”

I feel my mom drop her gaze off of me, which I take as approval. My dad looks at me concerned for a moment, but must not feel it enough to press on because he just nods and looks back down at his paper.

“That sounds really nice Chelsea.”

Yeah, really nice.

Chapter Three

“No way,” I say digging my fingernails into the side of the seats in Veronica’s SUV.

She drives a BMW and it’s absolutely perfect. I could only dream of having a car like this someday. No, I could only dream of having a car
half
as nice as this someday.

Veronica, on the other hand, got it from her dad on her sixteenth birthday. I think it was a way of apologizing for the fact that he’s never around. He’s a CEO for some nutrition company and barely ever home.

Sometimes it’s completely and totally beyond me why Veronica even hangs out with me. I mean, yeah, she grew up with me but we aren’t exactly in the same social standing anymore. She has all this money and all these good looks, not to mention she’s friends with literally everyone and has a fan club of boys just waiting to jump at her every word. She’s pretty much everything that I’m not, and sometimes that makes me really jealous.

But when I feel those feelings start to creep up inside of me I just try to remember that she has problems too. I mean, my mom’s a nurse a few days a week and my dad works in the communications center at AT&T five days a week. We aren’t super rich but I know I still have a lot more than some kids do. And I have parents who are actually in my life every day, unlike Veronica who’s lucky if she sees her dad once a month, not to mention a mom who is completely and totally nonexistent. Seriously, she took off when Veronica was like six and no one has heard from her since. I guess it goes back to the old saying, “money can’t buy happiness.”

“Oh, come on,” Veronica says, smoothing out the light blue skirt she’s wearing that once again shows off her perfectly tan legs. “It will be fun.”

I dig my fingers deeper into her leather seats and grind my teeth together silently.

I should have known better than to think we were really just going to Mo’s when she showed up at my house looking like she just stepped out of an episode of Gossip Girl.

She picked me up for dinner twenty minutes ago all chipper and happy to go to what I assumed was our normal dinner of pizza and cheesy garlic bread sticks from the place with the best pizza in town, Mo’s. Now, she’s taking me to the other side of town and is turning right into JT’S Sports Bar and Grill again.

“Fun?”
I repeat incredulously. “Yeah, if fun is like pulling someone’s teeth out with a pair of pliers while they scream out in pain, begging for you to stop.”

“Wow,” Veronica says putting a little distance between her seat and mine, “just a little over the top and kind of crazy there, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but I still don’t want to go in.”

“Do you want to see Shawn again or not?”

“Not!” I tell her with confidence.

She looks at me skeptically, rolling her eyes like she knows I’m completely and totally full of shit. Which, I mean, I kind of am.

I mean, I kind of sort of spent the whole entire afternoon thinking about him. And then sitting around and looking up information about his amazing basketball career thus far, which is just as great as everyone makes it out to be. Honestly, they’re like calling him the next LeBron James.

“Besides, how do you even know he’s going to be here?” I add.

“Oh come on, where else is anyone going to go around here who wants to drink and isn’t twenty-one? Everyone knows this is the only place in town that doesn’t card you. Plus, didn’t you see the way everyone fawns over him in here? He’s clearly a regular.”

This is all true, but who cares. Not me, that’s for sure. I have no interest in Shawn anyways. In fact I’m pretty sure the only reason I keep thinking about him is because he’s so annoying. Yeah, that’s it. I’ve never met someone as annoying and full of himself in my entire life. That’s the only reason why I’m even curious.

“You should have told me before so I could have changed then.” I look down at my outfit and sigh. I’m still wearing the same green sweatshirt and gray yoga pants from the morning. No way I was going in there looking like this, next to her looking like that, especially if Shawn was in there. Not that I care if he is or not, it’s just, he’s so judgmental. He’ll find a way to find something wrong with what I’m wearing for sure.

“That’s why I bought you this,” she says, reaching into the backseat and pulling out something that looks more like a red piece of flimsy lingerie than a dress. I run my hands over the fabric, or lack there of, and look at her like she’s lost her mind for the second time today.

“There is no way in hell I am going to be wearing this.”

She pulls down the mirror over the visor and starts running her hand through her hair, flipping her part back and forth from each side. She would be obsessing over her hair when it’s already completely and totally perfect.

“Why not?”

“Um, maybe because I’m not a runway model or a size two.”

She rolls her eyes, then reaches into her purse and pulls out her make-up bag and starts re-applying her lip-gloss.

“Your not far off from a size two. And you should take it as a good thing that you’ve got a really big ass.”

A really big what? Wow!

“I do not!” I say, pushing her a little harder than necessary, which forces her to smudge her lip-gloss slightly over her mouth and onto her chin. Oops.

“Ow!” she says, grabbing her shoulder all dramatically and scowling at me. “It’s not a bad thing. Guys love that shit.”

“Well there’s no way in hell I have one. And there’s also no way in hell I can pull off that dress. So, sorry! Guess we have to go home! Better luck next time!”

Veronica, choosing to ignore my comment about my nonexistent butt for the moment, sighs and reaches in the backseat. She reemerges with a black skirt and white tank top, and shoves them into my hands. She then turns her attention back to her make-up.

“You can pull it off. But luckily I knew your insecure side would come out, so I brought a back up outfit just in case. And don’t even try saying you can’t wear that one either, because that’s the exact outfit you wore on the first day of school last year. So, now you have no excuse. Hurry up and change. I need myself a drink.”

She would of course remember that I had worn that very same outfit before, and liked the way it looked on me. Veronica remembers everything about fashion. I look around helplessly for a second, searching for any type of last minute escape. Like a get away car or something!

“I have nowhere to change,” I say helplessly, which sounds pathetic even to me.

“Oh, come on. You know my windows are tinted. I won’t look, I promise.”

I sigh and climb into the backseat. How do I get myself into these situations?

More than that, how do I always find myself caving into what Veronica wants me to do in these situations? I mean, I must indirectly want to be in the middle of these things if I somehow always allow myself to be caught up in them, right? Does that even make sense?

“Are you almost done back there or what?” Veronica calls over the seat.

I yank the tank top over my head and then swing the door to the backseat open, climbing out without answering. Veronica opens the driver’s side door and follows suit.

I look myself up and down in the car window carefully. Not horrible, but definitely not perfect. I turn to the side and allow myself to look at my butt, hoping Veronica won’t notice. See? It’s not big, it’s completely normal. If anything it’s un-big.

Although now that I’m concentrating on it alone, it does look kind of um…round. Hmm.

Veronica hits the lock button on her keychain and pushes past me toward the front of the bar. “Come on Cinderella, you’ll never know if Prince Charming is here or not if we stay in the parking lot all day.”

I tear my eyes away from my reflection and run to catch up to her. I’m not sure what I’m more scared of, the possibility of him being inside, or the possibility of him not being inside.

* * *

It’s pretty packed for a Thursday night, especially so early in the evening. I’m guessing it has something to do with the happy hour specials plastered all over the place.

Four-dollar Margarita’s from six to nine? Pretty much the entire population is in heaven I’m guessing.

The crowd is totally random too. There are some older people who look like they just got off work and are out letting off some steam from the week. Some college kids spread about, and even a few familiar faces from school, which is kind of uncomfortable for me seeing we both know the other is not supposed to be here. Not to mention, I’m sure most of them are surprised to see me in this place. Surprised to see me doing anything wrong at all. I pray to god I don’t see anyone who knows Kate, or God forbid, my parents.

If Veronica is concerned about seeing anyone we know she doesn’t act like it.

Instead, she’s waving at everyone and blowing kisses. She literally knows everyone. I’m so concerned with looking around for someone who could possibly throw me under the bus with my family that I almost miss him at first.

But there he is. At a table in the back of the bar, sitting with a group of guys, and two girls. My heart drops at the sight, but I make myself not look at him. I follow Veronica past them and over to a smaller table in the back.

As soon as we sit down Veronica’s flagging down the waitress to order our drinks. I allow myself to casually look over at the table Shawn’s sitting at. He looks better than he did last night, if that’s even possible. He has on a long-sleeved red shirt, dark blue jeans, a pair of red Jordan’s, and the same Heat hat from last night on his head.

I find myself catching my breath at the sight of him. I turn my attention to the girls who are with him and instantly feel like one of the stupidest people on the planet. Who was I kidding? These were clearly the kind of girls he associated himself with.

They’re both about a size zero with bleach blonde hair and perfectly white teeth.

One of them is wearing a short green dress and the other a short blue dress. Yikes, Barbie central. One of them says something to Shawn and his face breaks out into a huge smile, laughing at whatever she said. My heart drops. I look back at Veronica who’s smiling at some random guy sitting at the bar. Great.

“This was the worst idea ever,” I say.

“Why?” she asks, still looking at the same guy as she flips her hair over her shoulder and grins. “I’m having fun already.”

“Shawn’s here! With some girls!” I hiss.

She perks up at this statement and starts to look around obnoxiously.

“WHERE?”

“Shh! Pipe down, big mouth!”

She laughs and shrugs. “Sorry. Where? I don’t even see him.”

“Right behind us. Few tables to the right.”

Veronica squints her eyes until she finds the table. She then gets a confused expression on her face.

“Hang on a minute,” she squints her eyes a little harder. “I know one of them.”

“One of those girls?” I ask. Ugh, I hope she isn’t friends with them or anything. It would make it so much harder to hate them for no reason if they actually turned out to be really sweet and nice or something,

“No, one of the guys he’s with. I just can’t put my finger on where...”

She trails off as if she’s trying to figure out where she could possibly know him from. This is a very common thing for Veronica. She’s always seeing people out, mostly guys, that she just can’t remember where she “knows them from.” They always seem to remember her perfectly though. This is because Veronica always leaves a lasting impression on people, while very few people ever do on her.