Page 57 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

I swallow and accept the phone. “Hey, Mags. What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry to call your house on such short notice, but can you come in today? I’m short-handed. Again. And swamped. And you weren’t answering your cell.” Something crashes in the background.

“What time?”

“As soon as you can get here.” Maggie’s voice softens, and I imagine her pulling the phone away to yell at someone. “Chloe, I’ve got to go. Damien just spilled sugar everywhere. I’ll see you soon.”

Click.

“Who was that?” My mom enters the kitchen while skimming a stack of papers.

“Maggie needs me today. I think someone called in.”

“I’ll drop you off on my way out.”

“I can drive myself. I don’t want to inconvenience you.” My mom hates inconvenience almost as much as tardiness. Maybe I can win myself a bit of freedom. Or the illusion of it, anyway.

“It’s no trouble. It’s on my way, actually. We’ll need to leave in fifteen though, so you better get ready.”

Inwardly, I groan. Being on my mother’s schedule might be the worst part of my punishment.

My mom finally looks up from her papers. “Leaving in fourteen minutes.” She disappears into her office, leaving no room for discussion.

At least I’ll get to see Maggie. She’s always on my side.

Twenty-Six

RHOADS

Itossed and turned all night long. The room was too hot, so I kicked off the blanket. Then I shivered from being too cold. The fan clicked and whirred. Despite my talk with my friends at The Field, my mind raced, thinking about all the ways I might have already screwed up my slim chance with Chloe.

I finally drag myself out of bed, even though it’s not even seven in the morning on a Saturday, and I don’t have soccer to distract me.

I check my phone. Still no message from Chloe. My heart sinks into my stomach. I run my hand through my hair and poise my thumbs over the keyboard as I bite my lip, trying to think of something else I could say to get her to forgive me.

In the end, I can’t think of anything, so I just toss my phone back on my nightstand.

It is only seven. She might still be sleeping. Hopefully she is. That would mean she had a better night than I did.

I thought everything was going well, and then disaster.

That seems to be the story of my life lately.

I throw on some workout clothes, brush my teeth and plug my earbuds into my ears, shoving my phone into the zippered pocket of my shorts.

My mom and sister are both still sleeping, so I leave a note on the counter. Mom worries if I’m gone when she wakes up, so I let her know I’m going for a run and will be back soon.

The morning is chilly, and I relish the bite of the cold against my skin and in my lungs.

I let it cleanse me of the negative thoughts I’ve been having since I said goodbye to Chloe. If her mom hadn’t appeared at that moment, we would have kissed. I just know it.

My neck prickles at the memory of being so close to her. Of how the air shifted, like electricity humming in the air right before a storm.

I hope one bad night hasn’t ruined everything we’ve been building. I choose to tell myself it hasn’t.

By the time I’m finished with my run, sweat sticking my hair to my head, I’m feeling much more positive. Endorphins and all that. I shower and put on some fresh clothes before going downstairs to meet my mom and Danielle for breakfast.

“You were out late last night,” Mom says nonchalantly. She never pries too hard, but she is a protective and curious mom, nonetheless.