TMI (10 page)

“Wow, do you even hear yourself?” He crossed the room to stand next to her, took her shoulders, and spun her around to face the mirror. “What exactly is wrong with having brown eyes?”

Meg met his gaze in their reflection, wondering how the hell he could even ask that question. His hands tightened on her shoulders, and then he trailed one hand slowly down her body, stopping at her hip.

Meg's heart skidded to a thought-scattering, life-shattering stop.

“I like what I see. Why don't you?”

She opened her mouth to retort but realized that with his hand on her body, she had no answer to give, even if she could form words.

“Maybe you do care?” He filled the silence.

Holy Moses, she was going to faint. Chase Gallagher touched her. Chase Gallagher was still touching her.

And she liked it.

Unable to tear her gaze away, Meg watched his impossible-colored eyes darken and drift to her mouth. Her entire body tensed, and her mind screamed “Run!” but she didn't.

She couldn't.

He turned her to face him.

He bent his head lower.

When had he grown so tall? When had his jaw formed those contours that just begged for her fingers to trace?

And then he touched his mouth to hers, the lightest of touches. Sweet. Friendly even. She'd replayed this moment a dozen, a hundred, a hundred dozen times since the first time he'd kissed her, and each time—every single one of them—she'd imagine coolly stopping him, reminding him they'd never be more than just friends.

But that's not what happened.

She exploded. There was a split second of hesitation, and then Chase went wild. The hand gripping her hip tightened and his fingers pressed into her flesh. The hand on her shoulder snaked around her back, reached into her hair, and pulled. Her head came up. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and he swallowed the sound, touched his tongue to hers. She held on, held tight while he poured a year's, a decade's, a lifetime's worth of love into his kiss, and she cried at the beauty of it, cried that she'd denied them this for so long.

Reality came skipping back home at that moment, dragging with it every memory of every time she'd heard her mother sob late at night when she was supposed to be asleep, and she froze.

Chase was suddenly across the room. “I should go. You gonna be okay?” His voice was a deep rasp.

Meg blinked, nodded, and leaned back against her desk, suddenly too dizzy to trust her legs. “Um…yeah, sure.” Her voice was just as raspy.

“You mind if I borrow that?” He jerked his chin to the binder. “I can do some basic flat files for you guys.”

Her mind clutched at that single sane thought. “Oh, sure. That…that would be awesome.” What the hell was a flat file?

In two steps, he had the binder, and in two more, he was at the door again.

Suddenly, Meg didn't want him to go. “Thanks for the…um…company.”

“No problem.” He turned at the door. “By the way—and I know this doesn't matter much to you—but I think you're pretty too.”

He grinned his toothpaste commercial smile, and Meg struggled to breathe.

Bailey's will had remained brick-solid right up until the final bell rang and she saw Meg, shoulders slumped and face long, drag herself onto the bus.

She elected to walk home, even though the sky was overcast and the humidity was doing terrible things to her hair. She headed out of the school parking lot, her bag already too heavy for her shoulder, and tried to remind herself that Meg never looked happy, even when she smiled—and that only happened when Chase was around. All she wanted was time, just a little bit of time to enjoy the sparkle and tingle of a brand new friendship that hinted at more to come. The weight on her shoulder felt like it had gotten inside her. Her steps slowed, and she raised a hand to rub at her chest.

Okay. Okay, she admitted it. She shouldn't have ditched the movie or the mall trip or not texted. It wasn't nice to be forgotten or abandoned. Hadn't she been mad at her mom for forcing her dad to do just that to her? But it wasn't intentional. Or…well, not entirely intentional. She got caught up in all that sparkling and tingling, and she would explain that to Meg, apologize for that much at least. Meg would understand.

That put a hitch in her stride.

Meg would
not
understand, not one bit.

Meg didn't allow herself to sparkle and tingle and sink into that soul-soaring feeling you got when a boy looked at you like you were the sun itself. Meg didn't let herself get caught up in anything except school and painting, and even when she was up to her eyebrows in a project, she'd never forgotten plans with Bailey.

Bailey slowed to a stop, found herself in front of a coffee shop, and went inside. She sat in a corner booth, far away from the laughter and teasing from the other students squeezed around a table for six. A horrible conclusion struck her hard, and she covered her face. She was a terrible friend. But yet, thinking it, accepting it churned up all this outrage deep inside her that kept trying to rebel against it. Bailey needed Gran and took out her cell, made the call, and then settled back to wait for Gran to rescue her, wallowing in pity.

“Bailey.”

She looked up, saw Simon frowning down at her, and hunched lower in the booth.

“You okay?”

She turned away. “Sure. Perfect.”

“You…ah…need a ride or something?”

At the other end of the shop, Bailey noticed Caitlyn trying to draw blood with her glare. “I'm good. You should get back to her before her face freezes that way.”

Simon took a quick look over his shoulder and snorted. “Yeah…okay.” He waited a second and then walked away.

Bailey refused to look at their table. She sat with her face turned to the window. Time floated around her, but she was outside it. She registered the arrival and departures of various customers, smelled the French fries on trays going by, and sipped the coffee in front of her that she didn't remember asking for. A hand reached across the table and squeezed hers.

“What's wrong, sweet girl?” a soft voice asked.

Bailey looked up into her grandmother's familiar face. There were lines there now, a little gray around her temples, but she always looked so beautiful and always spoke so softly—even when she was mad.

There was no annoyance reflected on her grandmother's face, only concern.

Tears burned behind her eyes. “Oh, Gran! I…I really hurt Meg.” The story tumbled from her lips and the tears fell, her earlier stubborn willpower nothing but rubble now.

Gran listened, sipped her own coffee—where had that come from?—and made little sounds of commiseration. When Bailey was finally done spilling her guts, Gran asked one question: “What will you do now?”

Bailey stared at her. It was a simple question but still wrapped her in a blanket of love. She could have asked, “What do you think you should do?” Or, as Nicole might have asked, “Why did you do that?” On the surface, the questions were the same. But deep down, where it counted, only Gran's held no hint of accusation or blame or disappointment or even disapproval. After all, she'd just admitted to befriending a boy she'd met online.

Bailey smiled through her tears and squeezed Gran's hand. “I know I have to apologize for ditching her, but that's all, Gran. I'm not sorry I'm friends with Ryder, and I'm not sorry I want to find someone to love, even if Meg won't. I shouldn't have to apologize for that.”

Gran angled her head and tucked her stylish blond hair behind an ear. “Why do you think you have to?”

“Um—” Bailey wasn't sure how to answer that. “I always get this feeling that Meg expects me to stay single for the rest of my life so she won't be alone. But that's not me! I want to get married and have kids someday. Don't get me wrong—that's not
all
I want. But Meg has no room for that in her plan. She doesn't get that I have my own plan.”

“Do you?”

She lifted her shoulders. “Sort of. I know I want an exciting career, but I don't know what that is yet. I know I want a family who loves me—husband and kids someday, a lot of them. I don't know who he is yet. I'm not going to skip any opportunity for finding him and I shouldn't have to, right?”

Gran held up her hands, palms up. “This is your life we're talking about, not mine. It's not my job to tell you if you're right or wrong here. That's up to you to discover and decide.”

Bailey smiled. “See? This is why I called you. Mom would have lectured me on what's right. And Meg would have lectured me on what's right for her. Nobody seems to get that I have my own ideas. Except you. Thank you.” Bailey leaped up and kissed Gran on her nose.

“Um, well, thank you.” Gran wrinkled her nose and laughed. She angled her head with a sparkle in her eye and grabbed a menu from the holder on the edge of the table. “Now how about we split a really big and fattening dessert before we head home?”

“Deal.” Bailey wiped her eyes and pointed to the triple-scoop chocolate sundae with a sparkle of her own. They ordered and dug in, and in minutes, the large dessert had been reduced to nothing but a dirty dish.

Gran sat back on her side of the booth and patted her belly. “Well, I don't know about you, but I sure feel better.”

Bailey laughed. “I do too. Thanks, Gran.”

“Anytime, sweet girl. Have you figured out what to do?”

“Yeah, I have a few ideas. But first, I'll apologize.” Bailey uncrossed her legs, recrossed them, and finally tucked them both under her butt. “I made her sad, Gran. She upsets me and annoys me and maybe she doesn't always understand me, but I made her sad. I hate that part the most. So that's the part I'll fix first.”

Gran stood up, put some cash on the table, and put both hands on Bailey's shoulders. “That's exactly what a good friend would do.”

A
good
friend.
Bailey shook her head. Sure messed that up, hadn't she? But she reached out and hugged her grandmother when an idea for fixing things struck. Thirty minutes later, after making a few phone calls and begging people for various favors, Bailey opened her blog and started a new post.

She smiled at the thought, even though guilt was burning a hole in her heart. Meg would forgive her. She knew that without a doubt.

That was still hard to admit even after the triple-chocolate sundae she'd shared with Gran. But it was true. She'd kept Ryder a secret from the person who meant the most to her. It was selfish.

That was an understatement—M&M's were like Meg catnip. Bailey smiled and hit the Publish button that sent her latest post public. Sometimes it was easier to blog about the mushy stuff than it was to say it out loud. But she had to. She owed Meg that. She unlocked her phone and held her breath until Meg answered.

“Hey, it's me.”

Meg's pulse continued to skip beats long after Chase had left. He'd kissed her…or she'd kissed him. It was all a bit of a blur now. She ran a finger over her lips. They still tingled.

No. No, this wasn't what she wanted. She wanted school and a degree and a career, not kisses that tingled. So she grabbed a canvas and started prepping. Work always centered her. It would take her mind off tingling lips and aching hearts. She glanced outside and decided to recreate the last snowstorm when Chase and his little brothers had tried to save their snowman. She mixed shades. She needed to contour, to highlight. She dabbed white over green, layered snow over bits of green lawn with—

Her phone buzzed and she cursed out loud. She didn't want to talk about it, analyze it, dissect it. They were just feelings and they would go away if she could take her mind off stuff. But the caller ID showed it was Bailey, and now Meg wavered. Every cell in her body screamed
Ignore
it!
She even thought about smashing the phone against the wall of her room, but she needed her phone with its ancient flip-out keyboard. Cursing her own weakness, she dropped her brush and finally answered.

“I'm so sorry, Meg!” Bailey's voice, thick with tears, wailed in her ear. “Meg?”

“Yeah, I'm here. I'm listening.” Meg's own voice was just as thick. She'd never expected Bailey to apologize. She'd forgive Bailey. Of course she would. Hell, she already had.

“I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to—”

“Not share him. I get that.” Chase's words replayed in Meg's mind, and suddenly, it all made perfect sense.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry too. I know I can come on really strong sometimes, but I hate knowing something I did made you keep a boyfriend a secret from me.”

Bailey was quiet for so long, Meg had to look at her phone to be sure the call hadn't dropped. “Bay? You still there?”

“Yeah…sorry. Oh, Meg, really, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to feel bad. I just wanted—”

“It's okay, Bailey.”

“Yay!” she squealed.

Meg twisted a paint rag into a knot. Apologies were a huge first step. Now came the true test—acceptance. “Tell me about him.”

Bailey told her everything, and Meg bit her lip, hoping she wouldn't say anything to upset her all over again. “Meg, I think—well, I
thought
I made a mistake breaking up with Simon. Until I met Ryder.”

But
you
didn't actually meet him, did you?
Meg bit her lip harder.

“I really miss Simon. I know he wasn't always nice to me, but I still miss him. Or I did. But with Ryder, the whole Simon thing doesn't hurt so much. He's just—well, he's sweet. He treats me the way you always said I should be treated.”

Meg's shoulders dropped. Hard to argue with your own words. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped this worked out for Bailey. “He sounds great, Bailey. Really great.”

“Oh, he is. Trust me.”

Trust
me
. Bailey's words were like a hammer to the head. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? She hadn't trusted Bailey. Chase said she was judgmental. Meg sank to her bed, squeaked an apology of her own. “I'm so sorry, Bay. I don't want you to hide guys from me.”

“Okay, let's not do this anymore. Can you come over?”

“What? Like now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“Okay, I guess so.”

“Great! Bye!” Bailey always said
hi
and
bye
in two syllables.

Meg closed her phone, cleaned her brushes, and changed her clothes. Fifteen minutes later, she was standing on the porch in front of Bailey's front door, her eyes still wet.

“You're here!” Bailey flung open the door, wrapped her in a hug, and tilted her from side to side, and Meg laughed.

They were okay again.

“Come inside.”

Meg followed Bailey through the living room and into the dining room. “Surprise!”

She froze half in the room, half out. Bailey's grandparents, Bailey, Chase, even her mom clapped.

“Mom! What are you doing here? I thought you had a class—” Her face burned and her cheeks hurt from the damn smile she couldn't stop.

“Oh, honey, I can miss one or two. It's not every day when my baby girl turns seventeen. Here. Happy birthday.” Her mom pressed a card into her hand.

Meg opened it to find a gift certificate to her favorite art supply store. “Mom,” she gasped. “This is too much. We can't—”

“We can. Go buy yourself a rainbow.”

Meg flung her arms around her and squeezed.

“Megan. Happy birthday.” Chase smiled and jerked his chin at the huge cake on the Grants' dining room table and Meg's eyes went wide.

“You…no way. You made this?” It was decorated like an old-fashioned art palette, complete with a brush and paint wells. “This is amazing. Thank you.” When did he have time to do all this?

Bailey rushed over and guided Meg into a chair, where she was forced to endure the worst version of “Happy Birthday” ever sung.

“Oh, my God, you guys, that was so…so terrible,” she groaned. Chase tossed a balled-up napkin at her with a laugh.

Mrs. Grant passed slices of cake around the table and Bailey poured coffee. Meg took a bite and felt something crunch under her teeth. “What—
oh
. Oh, God, I don't believe it.”

Chase grinned. “There's a layer of M&M's under the icing.”

“Okay. Why?” Mr. Grant frowned at his plate.

“Gramps, they're Meg's absolute favorite thing.” Bailey nudged Meg with a shoulder. “Right, Meg?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Nice touch, Chase.” Pauline clapped.

When everyone had cake, coffee, or milk, Bailey slipped into the chair next to Meg and took her hand. “I'm so glad we're okay again. Just so you know, Chase has been working on your cake all week.”

Something in Meg's chest expanded and warmed, and she tried to stomp on it, to will it to be something simple like indigestion or maybe a minor heart attack, fearing it was something much, much worse.

A few hours later, her mother headed off to class and Chase walked her home, carrying the leftover cake under a sheet of aluminum foil. “You reminded her it was my birthday, didn't you?”

Chase's stride faltered for a second. “Um…no. Not really. The thing is—”

“Relax. It's okay. She was mad at me. I get that. But you made her stop being mad. So…thank you. And thanks for the cake. It was totally amazing.”

He waited while she unlocked the door and then handed her the cake box. “Happy birthday, Megan.” Before she could move away, he pulled her toward him and lowered his head, his lips just a breath from hers. All she had to do was lift her head and…and…

She leaped back and into the house, closing the door in his face.

On Saturday morning, Meg thought about not showing up, about sulking and getting back at Bailey for forgetting her, for making her feel like Fallow Brown—in other words, like crap. But not only had Bailey organized a tiny little birthday party, but she'd blogged about it, bought her M&M's, and somehow managed to get a whole bunch of people who read her blog to also buy her M&M's.

Staying mad and trying to get even after all that just felt petty.

So on Saturday morning, Meg steadied her nerves and walked up Bailey's porch steps to ring the bell, ready to accompany her friend to I-CON. The thought of strolling past booth after booth to hear the merits of another dumb game and watching Bailey squeal over costume characters had Meg's teeth clenching.

But she'd
promised
.

It was going to be a long day.

Chase was there, she noted with a gulp when Bailey flung open the door. Meg hadn't stopped thinking about their disastrous near-kiss when she practically turned into an ice cube. She told herself he had finally gotten the message. She wasn't interested in him and never would be. She told herself she was happier without him.

Both were lies.

She nodded stiffly to him while Bailey grabbed her in a hello clutch that rocked her from side to side and ended with a bounce. Chase looked like a guy struggling hard not to laugh at Bailey's excitement. When his eyes met Meg's, he didn't say a word and only nodded. She breathed a bit easier.

On the train east to Stony Brook, Bailey seemed oblivious to the strained silence between Meg and Chase. She seemed happier, perkier than usual, Meg noted with passing interest. That was a good thing. It meant she wasn't holding a grudge. So Meg wouldn't hold one either. She hung back while Bailey skipped from one booth to the next. Chase had gone off on his own, for which Meg was profoundly grateful. It was kind of sweet watching Bailey go all gooey over costume characters. She'd collected a bag full of action figures, autographs, card decks, comic books, video games, and…a bunch of phone numbers.

“She's like a queen holding court,” Chase said when he found her in the midafternoon at the concession area.

Meg snorted.

“Hey, it's not every day a guy meets a girl who looks like Bailey
and
who loves video games. These guys are toast,” he added when he saw Meg's eyes roll.

Meg tried to ignore the stab of pain. Everybody loved Bailey. Except Bailey, she reminded herself. Well, at least Chase wasn't acting weird around her. “Not you too.”

“Come on, Megan. Do you know how seriously cool it is for a girl to be into gaming? I'm surprised no one's proposed to her yet.” He waved a hand toward the long autograph line where Bailey waited, chatting excitedly to the guys behind her.

“Wait. That blond dude looks ready to drop to one knee.” He laughed. “So what about you?”

Meg swallowed the last of her hot dog and swilled some water. “What about me?”

“What's your favorite game?”

Meg shrugged. “I don't have one.”

“Okay, what about a character?”

Meg shrugged again.

“Oh, come on!” Chase nudged her with his shoulder and Meg pretended she never felt the tingle. “There's gotta be something here that interests you.”

Meg dropped her gaze to her water bottle. That she was interested, even a little bit, was a secret she had to protect at any cost. But Chase wouldn't let it go. He moved closer, nudged her again, green eyes teasing. The tingle was impossible to hide.

“The only thing I'm interested in is the exit,” she lied.

“I've been watching you, the way your eyes track all this bright color…all this animated action. I
know
you, Megan. Tell me you're not itching to get your fingers on a sketch pad right now.” He raised his hand, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and her knees jolted, smacking the bottom of the table.

She tried to ignore the way her belly flipped when he admitted he'd been watching her…or the way her heart took that extra beat when he'd said, “I know you, Meg.” Distance! She needed distance. She strode to the trash can, crumbled the paper liner into a wad, and pitched it. Damn it, why did he have to be so freakin' observant? She turned, only to find Chase blocking her way, all proud of himself, his prismatic eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter. Meg huffed and whirled around, but he caught her around the waist and she nearly combusted.

“Seriously, Megan. Is it that hard to admit I might know you better than you think?”

Oh, Chase, you have no idea.
“Chase, just because you live a few houses behind me doesn't mean you know me.” She wriggled out of his arms before her heart exploded.

“Yeah, it does. And you didn't answer my question.”

It was all she could do just to remain upright and he expected her to answer questions? She sighed. “What question?”

“Do you wish you could sketch all this?”

“Fine. Yes. Are you happy now? Maybe I should go get my napkins out of the trash and draw that guy in the cape over there.” She folded her arms while his grin stretched wider.

“Or…you could use this.” He held out a plastic bag. “Happy birthday.”

He'd…he'd bought her a gift. Meg's heart gave a squeeze. “You gave me a gift. A cake. A pretty awesome cake.”

“Cake is required at birthdays. So are presents. This is a present.”

“Chase, I can't—”

“Oh, come on, Meg. Just look.” He dipped into one of the bags he carried and pulled out a notebook and some colored pencils. It was exactly what she'd have bought herself if she could have afforded to.

No, damn it.
No!

Meg stared at them for a long moment and felt her resolve crumbling like a stale cookie. She wanted to grab them and curl up in the corner over there and sketch Chase's eyes. No.
No!
She should shred the notebook and grind the pencils to stubs.