Cross My Heart (17 page)

“And didn’t Ethan say if his mother would’ve died in the spring he would have never
married
Zeena
?” Parker continues
, interrupting my thoughts.

“Parker,
you’re fairly brilliant,” I say
, writing
this down
in my notebook.
I
never dreame
d that Parker Whalen would contribute
this much
to our project—that we would talk
this much, even. Totally bizarre.
I’m
making
a note about Ethan’s decision to marry
Zeena
wh
en
I realize.
. . .“Oh M
y God,” I mutter
.

Parker’s forehead wrinkles
with concern. “What is it?”

I gasp, hand flying
to my mouth. “Oh. My. God.
” I pull
my hair away from my face and
close my eyes
. “Tell me today’s not Th
ursday,” I practically whisper
.

“Um, yeah,” he replies
. “It’s Thursday.”

“Oh my God!”

The librarian sh
ushes me from her desk. I
jump to my feet.

“W
hat’s wrong?” Parker asks
,
eyeing me cautiously.

“I missed my meeting
!”
I hiss
.

“
What meeting?
”

I grab my notes, stuffing them into my bag
, wrinkling them
.
“
At the elementary school. We
’
re raising money for the library and I
’
m in ch
arge. Jesus! How could I let this
happen
?
I never forget
anything
!
”

When was the last time I even looked at my planner? I wrack my brain. Not since lunch, at least. I couldn
’
t have. I spent the entire afternoon walki
ng around in a fog, thinking of
one
thing: seeing Parker. And look
what happened. I was so freaking distracted I missed the most important meeting of my entire week. Parker Whalen should
not
have this
kind of effect on me.

“
I think you
’
re b
eing a little hard on yourself,
”
Parker says.

“No
. I’m not,” I reply
harshly, angry at him for screwing up my entire schedule, but
angrier
at myself for letting it happen
.
“
You don
’
t sign up to do something and then bail on everyone. People are
counting
on me.
”

“
Well t
here
’
s no point
going
now. It
’
ll be
over by the time you get there.
”

“
Thank
you for conveying the obvious,
”
I snap.

“
Look,
Jaden,
”
he says,
leaning back in his seat
, voice calm
.
“
It
’
s one meeting.
It
’
s not the end of the world.
”

I
t
’
s easy for him to say this. He doesn
’
t
do
anything. He has no idea.
I hoist my backpack over my shoulder
, hands trembling
.
“
Maybe not to
you, but it
’
s the end of
my
world.
I don
’
t miss meetings. I don
’
t sign up to do something and not follow
through. I
’
m better than that.
”

“
Please keep your voice down,
”
the librarian says.

“
I
am
keepi
ng my voice down,
”
I reply,
defensive.

I can feel. . . .
I swallow hard.
No,
Jaden. You
cannot
cry
.

Parker stands,
shaking his head.
“
Jaden
. . .
”

Do
not
cry. Not here. Not in front of
. . .
“
I have to go,
”
I insist
, words breaking in my throat
.
“
We
can
do this tomorrow
. At my house. I
’
ll, um . . . I
’
m
really
sorry.
”
I jog
toward the door
and pull on the handle
,
stumbling into the hallway, fight
ing back the stubborn tears
mar
ring
my vision
.

“Any mail
for me
?”

“
Not today,” Mom replies
.

“Of course not.” I inhale
deeply, remi
nding myself
that I am
not
a control freak, despite what Phillip
or anyone else
may think
.

I head to the refrigerator and pull
out a soda and
bottled water. “P
arker is on his way,” I remind
her.

An audible sigh ri
se
s
from where my
mom si
t
s
at the kitchen
table. My cheerful mood deflates
a little, and I
roll my eyes.

Sarah
enters
the kitchen, Joshua planted
on her hip. “Hey
,
you,” she says
happily. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I
’
m going through dress catalogs
.
Since you
’
re a bridesmaid you have a vested interest.
Wanna
help
?”

I smile
. Friday i
s Sarah’s slow day—no classe
s, and clinic until lunch
.

“I would, but I have a friend coming over to
work on a project,” I explain
.

Sarah walks
over to the cabinet where my mom ke
eps Joshua’s baby food, and pulls
out a jar of bananas. “Is this the Parker guy everyone’s
been talking about?” she asks. The door bangs
shut.

“The one and only,” I reply
,
giving my eyes a hard roll
. “How did
you
hear about it?”

“Daniel.”

“Great,” I mutter
.
“
How did
he
hear about it?”

“Well . . . apparently he heard you two
arguing last night,” she replies
, nodding toward
my mom. “He asked if I knew anything about it. I told him no—I had no clue. At first he thought it had something to do with you and Blake.”

“No.”

Mom sighs, and stan
d
s
from her chair. “It wasn’t an argument
. I
t
was a discussion,” she says
. “From what I hear, this Parker has a shady past, and I don’t want Jaden involved with a bad crowd this close to graduation.”

“He’s h
ardly a crowd,” I mumble
under my breath.

Mom ambles over to the counter, pulls
open t
he silverware drawer, and fishes
around for one of Joshua’s spoons
, metal ti
nkling against metal. She passes
one
to Sarah
.

I hear
the growl
of a motorcycle moving
closer
:
it
s motor humming,
rumbling
. It’
s the last thing I need
—my parents k
nowing this “troublemaker” I’m
involve
d with drives
a bike.

“Wha
t Mom doesn’t know,” I continue
,
distract
ing them from the noise
, “is that Parker is a nice guy. He makes good grades . . . he’s just . . . quiet. He keeps to himself. Yeah, he might have a shady past. I mean, who doesn’t, right? I haven’t seen anything I should be concerned about, and I consider myself a good judge of character. You know I would never screw things up this close to graduation.
Please
trust me on this.”

T
he doorbell ri
ng
s
.

“If I was concerned, I wouldn’t bother,”
I f
in
ish
, heading for the door.

When I open it, Parker i
s standing on the other side
.
I tak
e a deep breath
.
“
Look, I just want to say I
’
m sorry about yesterda
y. You know, um, leaving early.
”
He was right. I missed my meeting. By the time
I
got to the elementary school
the parking lot was empty
. I spent half the night crafting apology emails to everyone in my group.

He shrugs.
“
No big deal.
”

“
Okay. Because I didn
’
t want you to think I was bailing on you or being r
ude. I just. . . .
”

And then
my eyes settle on him, and
I
can
see him.
Really
see him.
The
leather jacket and dark jeans a
re such a
n established
part of his ensemble
I barely notice
them anymore. Today, however,
he
’
s wearing
blue: an azure, collar
ed
polo shirt that compliments his olive skin. My breath catches
, sending flutters deep into
the pit of
my stomach
. It’
s
beautiful. It makes him. . .
. I can
’
t even describe
it. It
’
s
bright and cheerful and
so unlike Parker that I blink
a few tim
es, trying to make sense of it.

“Can I come in?” he asks
, raising an eyebrow.

I snap
back to reality
, heartbeat erratic
.
God, I’m so rude. Leaving him standing on the porch?
“
Yeah. Of course. Sorry.” I move aside
.

A smile lifts a corner of his mouth
on the way in, as
if my
thoughts
are splayed across my forehead
for everyone to read.
“Hey.”

My stomach tumbles to the floor, cheeks flaming
in embarrassment
.
“Hi.”

Parker follows
me, hands stuck de
ep in his pockets, as I return to the kitchen. My mom i
s back i
n her usual seat, Joshua i
s strapped in
his high chair, and Sarah i
s sitting beside him, spooning banana
mush into his mouth. He slaps
the tray of his chair happily.