“Are you okay?”Mom’s eyes enlarge with concern as if I’ve malfunctioned once and for all. “You seem a little distracted.”
Baya’s mouth drops open as if she’s just had an epiphany. I’m sure she’s onto me.
Distracted is a good word, I sign back.School is a bit tougher than I anticipated.God’s honest truth, right there.I have an eight-page essay due on Monday. It’s just a first draft, but the professor likes for the class to critique each other’s work.
Bryson does a quick translation for his new wife.
That’s why I have to get back tonight—actually, this afternoon. I need to be back by three thirty. Some of the other girls—people in the group—want to have their evening free.God, this just keeps getting worse. Forget faking a stomach ache. I have one.
“Are you sure it’s not a boy who has you distracted?”Mom gives a knowing look, and my face heats up like hell fire.“Holt mentioned that someone had their eye on you. I can imagine a whole lot of boys have their eyes on you.”Her face lights up with glee as if she lives to torment me over a boy. I know she means well, and I’m pretty sure she’d be singing a different tune if she knew this boy were the reason I wanted to head back to campus. It’s all fun and games until there’s a real penis involved. If I didn’t feel like crying, I’d laugh at the thought.
What if there was a boy?I force a smile, but it comes out more of a scowl. A part of me wants to probe just to see if she’s all right with the idea.
Bryson whispers to Baya, and her chest hiccups with a gasp.
Mom’s amusement is quick to melt away. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to bring him around.” She nods to Holt and Bryson. “I’m sure your brothers will want to approve. I’ve never envied you on that front. But I’m sure if you find him interesting, that’s enough for me.” She does a quick sweep of all the secretive faces. “Well, who’s going to tell me about this mystery boy?”
Holt leans his head back a moment. “He’s the lead singer in a band that performs at the Black Bear—the 12 Deadly Sins.” He looks to me. “In the event you haven’t noticed, they added about five extra transgressions.”
Good God. I roll my eyes.
“His name is Blake.” Baya nods at my mother. “He’s amazingly sweet, and he has a voice that makes ovaries cry for a ten mile radius.”
My heart thumps at the idea. She nailed it all right.
Bryson shoots her a look before pulling her in close, and she giggles. It’s nice seeing him so happy. He was so depressed, and rightfully so, after his friend Stephanie died. He thought she killed herself over him, but she was pushed off a cliff by that evil witch, Aubree. Baya is lucky she survived Aubree’s clutches. My thoughts drift to Blake, how horrible he must feel to have lost his brother just this past summer, and now I can’t wait to see him in just a few short hours. He hasn’t talked much about his brother, but I want him to. I want him to tell me everything there is to know about him. I want to be that person for Blake—someone he can share his intimate thoughts with.
Bryson lifts a finger. “Don’t worry, Mom. Holt and I already talked to this clown. He and Annie are just friends—less than friends, acquaintances.” He lifts his brows as if demanding that’s all Blake and I will ever be.
Acquaintances, huh?
Mom holds out her hands a moment.“So much is changing, and I have no doubt Annie will have someone special in her life soon enough.”She looks to me heavy with concern. “Don’t rush into things. They say women are complicated, but, believe me, men are complicated, too, if not more so. I wouldn’t get too attached to this Blake person. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Men are like shoes, you want to try on a few good pairs before committing to just the right one.”
Holt and Bryson slouch in a manner that lets me know they’re less than pleased with her analogy. I’m positive she didn’t mean for it to be sexual in nature, but Baya is practically crying she’s laughing so hard.
“Anyway”—Mom is as desperate to change the subject, as I am—“back to your hearing.I booked an initial consult with an associate clinic in Jepson. They can send their findings to the Los Angeles branch, and if you qualify, we can schedule the surgery as early as November.”
Surgery. I can practically feel the scalpel as she signs the word.
I want to say no thanks, but offer a bleak smile instead.
I know two things for sure. I’m about to make Blake Daniels more than an acquaintance in just under an hour—and I won’t be anywhere near Los Angeles come November.
The idea of Blake and his ovary exploding voice comes back to me.
Why does it feel as if I’m running in all sorts of scary directions at once?
It takesmany text messages and stare downs with Baya to convince her to drive me back to the dorm. Who knew a football game was on, and my brothers had plans to sit glued to the set for the next four hours? Thank God for Baya, or I would have been stranded. Another reason to get my license ASAP. Last year both Kaya and I took our driver’s education courses. As soon as she could, she went down to the DMV and got her license. Kaya is a great driver—correction, Kaya is one of the safest drivers I’ve ever been in a car with. No offense to Baya, of course. Although it does feel sort of like a roller coaster at times, but I attribute it to the fact she’s probably not used to my brother’s truck. Maybe this winter break I’ll get my brothers to help me log a few hours behind the wheel, and, after the New Year, I can finally get my license. I’ll admit the idea makes me nervous, but Kaya assured me that everyone feels that way at first, hearing or not.
Baya pulls in front of Prescott, and I do a quick sweep for any signs of Blake, but thankfully there aren’t any. I think if I saw his big truck I’d keel over. My heart is still racing from trying to break out of my mother’s house, but now it’s picking up speed at the thought of being alone with Blake for the first time in a week. It’s still ten to three, so I have a few minutes to run up and change.
Baya leans back in her seat and inspects me.
“So what time is he picking you up?”
I open my mouth to refute the idea then wisely close it again. I’ve met my quota on lies for the week.
A wry smile drifts to my lips instead as I pull out my phone.3:30 Please don’t tell.
