The Trouble with Dating Sue (Grover Beach Team #6) (33 page)

To make sure I was there before she was, I practically ran from Spanish to the cafeteria. As I shoved the swinging door open and stomped inside, very few students were lined up at the food counter and even fewer sitting at their tables. With no thought of grabbing a meal, I headed to my usual place. The door was in good view. It swung open and closed several times as more kids entered. And each time, my heart jumped to my throat.

Alex Winter came in with Sasha Torres. They made a beeline to the fruit section, where they grabbed a handful of grapes and an apple, then they skirted the tables in the room to get to their usual places. They were the first of the soccer bunch to arrive. It would only be moments now…

When the door swung open next, adrenaline spiked my blood. Flanked by Hunter’s girlfriend and Sam with the choppy black hair, Susan walked in. None of the three cast a look at this side of the room. While her friends went straight for the buffet, Susan headed to where Alex and Sasha lounged by the windows. As she lowered into a chair, I rose and strode across the room toward her. I didn’t intend to waste another minute. The fewer friends present, the better. Besides, my buddies were filing through the door this moment, and they would only cause another delay if I wasn’t gone before they sat down.

Sue picked up a water bottle from the middle of the table and took off the top. She didn’t notice me coming. As she lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a small sip, I planted myself in the seat next to her. Grabbing one metal leg of her chair, I pulled her around with the entire damn chair so that she was facing me. Eyes widening in shock, she coughed and nearly spewed water on me. “What the hell, Chris! Are you crazy?”

“We talk,” I informed her coldly. “Now.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes.” My knees placed on either side of her legs, she had no chance of escaping. I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my thighs. Three and a half days—that was the maximum amount of time she could take to come to her senses. Now she was going to listen, because I had a lot to say. “You’re mad at me, all right. Not answering your phone? Fine. But I’m not going until you hear me out.”

Pressing herself against the backrest, she tried to put as much distance between her face and mine as this position allowed. “Didn’t you get the message last time? I’m not interested.” Deliberately doing something other than looking at me, she screwed the lid back on the water bottle and put it on the table.

One by one, the soccer table started to fill with guys from the team and their girlfriends. Opposite Sue, Ryan lowered into his place. “Hey, Chris,” he said, his tone cheerful. “Showing up here? Respect, dude.”

I paid him no attention. None of them. This was between Susan and me. Holding her captive with my gaze, I laced my fingers to keep myself from reaching out to her just yet. “I don’t buy it. You were interested from the very first minute you challenged me,” I stated solemnly. “You were interested when we played soccer together. You were interested when I kissed you. And you were interested when I fucking kissed you again. Don’t tell me bullshit and don’t brush me off. This is too—”

“Shut up,” Sue yelled, her cheeks suddenly redder than I’d ever seen before. Shoving her chair backward, she pushed to her feet. “I told you why it’s not going to work with us. That you fooled me last week only proves my point.” I stood up, too. Her sharp eyes followed my movements. Yeah, we would continue this conversation eye to eye, even though the majority of my speech was already out. She took a shallow breath, her voice going lethal. “You’re so full of yourself, it’s disgusting! Now let me go.”

“No.” Not a chance. Determined to hold her here with me until we’d sorted this out, I placed my hands on her hips. In hindsight, this might have been a mistake. One of many.

“Don’t touch me!” she spat. It had been one of the last things she said to me outside the bar on Thursday night, and just like then, her poisonous tone cut me deep.

Yet I couldn’t let her go.

Instead, I let hurt and frustration change into anger and snapped back, “You call me full of myself? Don’t throw stones while in your little glass house, Sue.” I’d had enough of her mood. Denial would get us nowhere. “From the start, you tried to keep me away, simply out of principle. Because I wasn’t who you expected to fall in love with. You kept denying your feelings for me, but I have proof of it on my phone. It’s in every damn text you sent back to me!”

For an infinitesimal moment, we were only Sue and Chris, two kids who knew that every word of the past ten seconds was the truth. And then a sharp pain exploded on the right half of my face, jerking my head to the side.
What the hell?
I gasped for air as everyone else at the table sucked in a shocked breath.

Sue slapped me.

Somebody let out a compassionate “ouch,” but with the ringing in my ear there was no way to tell which of the guys it was. Sam, however, clapped her hand over her mouth in dismay.

This was the first time in my life that a girl had slapped me in the face. The sting of her handprint didn’t hurt half as much as the stab to my heart and pride. I gritted my teeth, staring into her equally shocked eyes. Was it a slip? Judging by her look, she might have wanted to take it back.

Sobering quickly, I kept my hands at my sides and said in a severely low tone, “I certainly deserved that one. But I also deserve a second chance, don’t you think?”

Sue’s eyes misted. “I think I’m done with you. And I told you so already. Now get the hell out of my way.”

She reached for her backpack and flung it over her shoulder. This conversation might have been over for her. But not for me. I couldn’t accept this outcome. When would her reason finally kick in? I’d made a mistake, all right. Did she intend to make me suffer for it for the rest of my life?

Before she could run away, I reached out and gripped her wrist, pulling her close to me. Her body, so fragile, trembled against mine. Determined, I looked her in the eye and pleaded in a whisper, “Don’t run away from me now.”

Equally low, but edged with frostiness, she demanded, “Let. Go.” Then she yanked her hand free from my grip and stormed out of the cafeteria.

My heart beat way too fast in my chest. Fast and hard. And it hurt.

Should I go after her? Catch her and start this conversation over again? Hesitantly, I tore my gaze away from the door, which still swung back and forth from her exit, and faced the soccer bunch, who’d just gotten a free show. It was Alex Winter’s girlfriend who answered my unspoken question. Her sky-blue eyes finding mine, she silently shook her head.

I dragged a heavy breath in through my nose and walked back to my place at the other side of the cafeteria. Since Susan and I hadn’t really kept the volume down, more intrigued pairs of eyes followed me all the way.

Back with my friends, Rebecca watched me sit with a pale face. As we locked gazes, I appreciated that she didn’t shove some girl wisdom at me in this moment. Brady wasn’t quite so considerate. He leaned on the table, folding his arms, and stretched his neck toward me, definitely coming up with some shitty joke. The moment he opened his mouth, however, Becks smacked him on the bicep. “Shut up, Baker,” she growled with a frown. Then she rose from her chair and pulled T-Rex up with her. “Let’s go get some food.” When none of the others made any attempt to go with her, she added in an annoyed voice, “Everyone!”

Brady, Trevor, and the rest moved, too. As they headed off, Becks waited a second and turned to me. “Can I get you something?”

“No, thanks.” Hunger was the least of my problems.

Depressed, I let my gaze stray and wander across the room. People had gone back to munching their meals and chatting away the hour that we had for lunch. One person wasn’t eating, though. Ethan’s concerned eyes were pasted on me.

The lump in my throat made breathing painful. I swallowed, holding his gaze for a moment. Then I pressed my lips together and lowered my head.

When everyone came back from the counter a minute later, their trays loaded with spicy-smelling gumbo and fruit, I snatched my backpack and headed out. I needed a walk by myself.

“SHE ASKS THAT you stop calling or texting her.”

My mouth open like a fly trap, I stared at Ethan. His face was as pale as mine felt. He’d lowered himself on the other side of the couch one minute ago and told me that he’d gone to Susan’s house after soccer today. The meeting hadn’t gone so well. Apparently, Sue understood why he’d helped me in this, but that didn’t mean she wanted him back in her life just yet. Or me.

Damn, if he took that crap from her and still started speaking to me again in the same day, I must have looked
really
pathetic at lunch.

At my numb silence, Ethan scratched his neck, then leaned forward, and braced his forearms on his knees, lacing his fingers. “It’s too much drama for her right now. She has a lot on her plate with her parents’ divorce. Her family is falling apart, and then you and I, who she thought she could rely on, deceived her.”

If you looked at it from her side, it was probably natural that she wanted some distance from us—and time to cope with her new family situation. “How long do you think she’ll need to come around?”

“I don’t know.” My brother paused, staring out the window. “Remember how we felt when Dad moved out? We didn’t want to see anyone, just be with Mom and try to understand why Dad disappeared. Susan might be struggling the same way. Maybe you should leave her alone until she starts to accept her new situation.”

“But we took
months
to come to terms with that!” He couldn’t really expect me to wait that long.

With a compassionate look at me, Ethan shrugged. Oh yes, he did indeed expect that.

“No way!” I jumped to my feet, skirted the coffee table, and dashed outside. A fight was not going to be the last conversation I had with Susan for months. I would go to her house and force her to give me a second chance. Well, ask her. Beg her. God, I was pathetic.

A painful sigh escaped me as I sank onto the front step and rubbed my hands over my face. I couldn’t go see her. She didn’t want that. And I had to respect it.

Elbows braced on my knees, I stared into the street, watching Mrs. Gilbert, our neighbor, teach her four-year-old to ride a bike without training wheels. Life was so easy at age four. If you fell and hurt yourself, your mother put a Band-Aid on the wound and you headed out to play again.

At eighteen, a Band-Aid could no longer cure every wound. Life had gotten a little more complicated, and boo-boos lasted longer than three minutes.

Quietly, the door opened and closed behind me. A shadow fell over my face as Ethan came forward, blocking the orange evening sun. He sat down beside me on the concrete step, slowly twisting his new Kobe Bryant ball in his hands. After a moment, he held it out to me.

I tilted my head slightly to his side and nailed him with a questioning look.

Ethan pressed his lips together for a moment, then said, “You can have it back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want it.”

My frown deepened. “
Why?
”

“Because…” He cut a helpless glance to the sky and lifted his shoulders. “No idea. It just doesn’t seem fair to keep it when your plan didn’t work in the end.”

Tearing my gaze away from him, I hung my head once more. “But that’s my problem, not yours.”

“No, it’s not.” A half minute passed in silence while Ethan drew in a lungful of air. “You’re my brother, and you always have my back. It feels like a betrayal not to be on your side now.” He pushed the basketball upon me once more.

This time, I took it. Planting my feet one step farther up, I placed the ball on my knees, wrapped my arms around it, and rested my chin on top. My words slurred, I mumbled, “Thank you.” For being a cool brother, not for the ball.

Okay, also for the ball, but more for the other thing.

Little Madeline Gilbert pedaled on her blue bike past our house for the fourth time since I’d come out here. She was doing it on her own by now, without her mother holding her, but Mrs. Gilbert still ran alongside. Maddie’s small upper body moved in sync with each push of her legs, and she squealed with joy, her eyes pasted to the street in front of her. “Watch me, Mommy! I learned it all by myself!”

“Yes, darling. And just look how fast you’re going,” Mrs. Gilbert panted.

As they were heading toward the end of the street for another turn, I quietly asked Ethan, “So you think I should give her the distance she wants?”

“Perhaps it’s the best way. At least for a few days. A week, or two.”

I pouted. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Ethan laughed, bumping his shoulder against mine. “I don’t know. But you can hardly sit here forever.” He stood and held out a hand for me.

I didn’t want to get up and go on with my life just yet. But Ethan had a point. In the end, I straightened and grabbed his hand. My brother pulled me to my feet, and we walked inside together.

*

Heeding Ethan’s advice, I didn’t call or text Susan anymore. That didn’t mean the urge wasn’t there. On the contrary, it felt like a permanent itch in my brain. Nasty and distressful. I couldn’t get rid of it. But I couldn’t give in to it either, because that might drive her away from me even more.

It got easier after a few days.

Much harder to resist was the urge to stop in the hallway and speak with her whenever we happened to cross paths at school. In those situations, it took everything within me to keep walking and not capture her with a pleading stare. A painful sting of longing lanced my chest each time. It reminded me a lot of the weeks after Amanda Roseman had dumped me. Losing Sue felt like losing my girlfriend all over again.

Maybe because of the really deep sighs that escaped me as I shuffled around at home, my shoulders and the corners of my mouth drooping, my mother realized something was off. One night, she came to my room, poking her head inside after a gentle knock. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Wondering what she wanted, I switched off the nerds on TV and sat up on my bed.

She crossed the room, lowering onto the edge of the bed, facing me. In her hands, she carried a cup. As she held it out to me and the familiar smell of tea drifted up my nose, an ironic laugh escaped me. It wasn’t just any tea, but fricking strawberry-vanilla.

“And what’s this for?” I asked and took a small sip, looking into the cup as I drank.

In a soft voice, she said, “Ethan told me everything.”

My gaze snapped to her. I lowered the cup, licking my lips. “Everything about…”

“You and Susan.” She reached out and rubbed my shin. “Darling, I’m sorry about that. But if you want to talk about it—”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I just said
if
—”

“And I said
no
.” It wasn’t Ethan’s job to tell her about my misery. If I’d wanted her to know, I would have told her myself. When she rose to her feet, though, and walked to the door with sad, heavy steps, regret for my abruptness stung me. “Mom?” I said, before she could pull the door closed.

She turned around, fixing those helpless mother-eyes on me.

“Thanks for the tea.”

A small smile appeared on her lips. She nodded and left me to my moping self again.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all that Ethan told her. This way, she didn’t have to guess about the reason for my sad face and wouldn’t be breathing down my neck at every opportunity.

Yep, having a blabbermouth twin actually had a good side, too.

*

Happy for the tiniest distraction in those final weeks before Winter break, I rushed out of the house after Ethan when he told me to come Christmas shopping for Mom. Apart from this one time in fifth grade, where I got her a pair of fluffy monster slippers and Ethan bought her a fat, grinning garden gnome, we always got her one present from the both of us.

“Have anything in mind?” Ethan asked during the drive to town.

I shrugged. “Gift card?”

“Beauty salon? Gas station? Restaurant?”

Tough choice. “Garden center?” I suggested, scrunching my face. At the moment, she spent more time with her rosebushes than with anything else, so that couldn’t really be a mistake.

“Okay.” Ethan took a turn onto West Grand Avenue where most of Grover Beach’s stores were lined along the road.

My gaze caught on the giant glass shoe outside Cinderella’s Jewels & Dreams. It wasn’t a big shop, but Mom was known to spend hours in there, just marveling at the many rings and necklaces with pretty little gems. “Or,” I said, “we could get her a pair of earrings.” Since Dad had moved out, she didn’t have anyone who got her jewelry on special occasions. And that was, apparently, something a woman would never buy for herself.

Ethan slammed on the breaks, causing my body to be pressed into my seatbelt. A whoosh of air pushed out of my lungs. As he reversed down the luckily empty road, it was clear he liked my suggestion. Hands on the dashboard, I groaned until he put the Mustang in drive again and steered it into a narrow parking lot right in front of the jeweler.

“Jeez, Ethan! Where the hell did you get your license? The grocery store?”

He smirked as he opened the door. “No scratch, no bump. Everything’s fine.” While he had enough space to get out easily, my door would have knocked a dent in the red pickup next to the Mustang if I opened it too far. Squeezing out through a mere crack, I shook my head and gritted my teeth.

Ethan took a moment to check out the jewels in the shop window, then followed me inside. A tiny bell above the door gave us away to the tall man in a gray suit behind the counter. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said as he looked up from polishing a watch with a velvet cloth. Somehow, he didn’t fit into my memory of this place. There had always been a lively stout woman that swirled around this room whenever Mom forced us to stop in here.

Standing rigid in the middle of the shop, I fixed the guy with narrowed eyes. “Where’s Cinderella?”

The man returned my glare with disapproval, put the watch back into the glass case, and adjusted his dark tie. “Mrs. Everbackle is on vacation to see her newly born granddaughter.” Behind me, Ethan snorted, clearly amused by the name. I sucked in my cheeks and bit on the insides to keep from laughing, too.

Mr. All-in-Gray put on a friendly smile that was certainly made for difficult customers. “May
I
help you instead?”

Just as he’d mirrored my look before, I now imitated his grin. “You may.”

Ethan came forward and explained to him that we were looking for a pair of earrings for our mom. No more than sixty dollars. And she hated the color orange.

“Very well,” replied the stiff replacement of Grover Beach’s own fairy godmother. Within moments, he’d filled the glass counter between us with all kinds of studs—with and without gems—and a multitude of dangly earrings. Ethan and I examined all of them thoroughly. “If the right ones aren’t among these, I can show you some nice pairs of creoles, too,” the holiday replacement offered.

“Oh, would you be so kind, please?” Ethan asked.

As the man busied himself in one of the shop windows, I leaned closer to my brother and hissed in his ear, “What the hell are creoles?”

“I have no idea,” he whispered back.

A moment later, we found out. They were the most boring, simple gold or silver hoops. Where were the pretty gems? I liked the gems in the other earrings. Mom should get jewelry with actual stones in them. “They have no gems,” I pointed out, lifting my brows.

“Yes, sir. That’s why we call them creoles.”

“Then we don’t want creoles,” I muttered and let my gaze skate over the colorful ones again.

“How about these?” Ethan picked up a small box with a set of dangling silver feathers, each of which had a tiny, sparkly blue something in them.

“Excellent choice,” the shop assistant gushed.

Fifty-nine ninety-nine. “Yep, excellent choice,” I agreed with a broad grin. “We’ll take them.”

“Very well.” He put the lid on the box and removed the price sticker. “Do you want me to gift-wrap it for you?”

“Yes,” Ethan and I blurted at once. The man snickered and pulled a small square of Christmas paper from the counter behind him.

While he wrapped Mom’s present and Ethan handled paying with the money we’d put together back home, I roamed the shop, glancing at this and that. In a corner, Cinderella—now also known as Mrs. Everbackle—kept a whole selection of small crystal figurines in a locked glass cabinet. Living up to the shop’s name, there were all kinds of Disney things. Bambi, Winnie the Pooh, Nemo, all seven dwarves, and Peter Pan’s little pixie friend—whatever the hell her name was.

Susan would probably know it. I’d been thinking about getting her a gift for Christmas for a while. But one of those finger-tall figurines cost about two hundred dollars, some even twice as much or more. That busted my entire budget for Christmas presents.

Nose pressed to the glass, I jumped when the shop assistant appeared through the wall of the glass cabinet. “Can I help you with anything else, sir?” he asked in his ever polite tone.