Brandon groans. I can see him in my mind, stretched out on his couch, arm over his head, one foot on his mother’s coffee table. It’s evening, and since he’s home, he’s probably in basketball shorts and a loose T-shirt. The last time he wore a tie was for a funeral. I doubt he even knows where it’s at now.
“So…you’re all dressed up, huh?” Then, in a mock sexy voice, he asks, “What are you wearing?”
“I’m going to hang up on you.”
He’s not flirting, not really. He’s just Brandon, and that’s what he does. Still, Sadie should keep him on a shorter leash.
Yes, I’m a little bitter. Or a lot bitter. But when the boy I’ve adored forever comes home with a blue-eyed, blond-haired girl who looks like she just stepped out of Wonderland, can you blame me? Sadie is perfect and sweet and lovely. I cannot stand her.
“Where are you?” he asks. “Do you have a ride home?”
And for one split second, I debate lying.Why no, Brandon, I’m stranded. Come rescue me.
“We met at the restaurant.”
“Smart girl. All the better for running away.”
I’m not sure how to answer that, so I let out a very ladylike grunt.
He’s quiet for a moment, and I’m just about to put myself out of my misery and end the call, when he says, “Rumor has it you transferred back home for good.”
I cringe, wondering how much of the rumor he knows. “Yep.”
“About time. It’s been weird without you around.”
“Weird how?” I ask, though I should say goodbye, pretend we never talked.
He groans a little, like he’s stretching. “Quiet weird. Not many people came home for the holidays this year. Even my little sister’s too busy for me, and my best friend is too busy with my little sister.”
“What about Sadie?” I ask, and then I smack my head against the headrest. Like I want to know.
“She’s in Missoula.”
I don’t answer right away; I’m too busy dissecting that short sentence. Why is Sadie still in Missoula? Why isn’t he with her? Why didn’t they figure out some way to spend Christmas together? I know if Brandon were mine, I wouldn’t waste a minute. Not again.
“But she’s driving in tomorrow,” he continues. “We’ll hang out here through Christmas, and then I’m going to her parent’s place for New Year’s.”
“That’s…great.” I almost sound like I mean it.
“Hey, Harper,” he says, his voice changing somehow—becoming more serious. “You like Sadie, don’t you?”
Can’t stand her.
“Yeah, sure,” I say with zero enthusiasm. “She seems great.”
“You think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” he asks, and though he’s teasing…he’s not.
I toy with my keys, wishing I’d ended the call when I had the chance. “She’s very pretty, and she seems really nice.”
“You should try, okay? She’s really shy, and she doesn’t think you like her.”
Probably because I don’t.
Let me tell you a little more about Brandon, give you a brief glimpse of our history. Not only are our younger sisters the best of friends, but our parents are annoyingly close. Basically, we’ve been thrust together for every birthday party, backyard barbecue, and most holidays. If there was cake or pie involved, we were at his house, or his family was at mine.
On top of that, we were also in the same grade in school. Brandon was the boy who used to pull my French braid when he sat at the desk behind me in kindergarten. In seventh grade, he’d trade his mother’s homemade chocolate chip cookies for my Hostess cupcake, just because he knew how much I loved them. In eighth, he was always begging to come over and copy my notes when he forgot to study—which was every weekend.
He’s the boy who grew up to be our school’s favorite dark-haired, blue-eyed sports star.
