The Fill-In Boyfriend
Page 42

CHAPTER 23
When I opened my eyes, the car was still. Bright overhead lights made me squint and blink a few times. I sat up and stretched.
Bec cleared her throat. “You’re awake.”
“Where is Hayden?”
She pointed out the window where Hayden and Nate stood at a gas pump.
“Oh. Gas.” I reached to the floor, picked up my purse, and dug for my wallet. Pulling out a couple of twenties, I stuck them in the cup holder in the center console.
Bec stared at them for a moment then said, “I’m going to tell you something and I’m mostly telling you because I feel sorry for you after what happened tonight but I’m also telling you because it’s true.”
“Okay,” I said, wary. That didn’t seem like the kind of lead-in that would result in something I wanted to hear.
“You said that the reason you were so upset is because you are that person, the one your brother was railing against in his stupid film.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s true. You were that person.”
“Thanks, Bec.”
“I said ‘were.’ You aren’t anymore.”
I understood what she was trying to say, how she was trying to cheer me up, but I knew better. I was no less shallow today than I was when my brother filmed me six months ago.
She must’ve sensed I didn’t believe her because she went on. “You seem to be trying harder lately. You said hi to me at school in front of your friends. You helped my brother out with Eve. And we’ve been together for eight hours now and I don’t want to strangle you. That’s got to mean something.”
I gave a short laugh. Her list of my supposed good deeds was painfully short.
Hayden got in the driver’s seat and his eyes found mine. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” That was the third time I’d said it and the third time it wasn’t true. I pointed to the cup holder. “Thanks.”
He looked at the cash sitting there. “What’s that for?”
I made myself smile. “A good time.”
Nate snorted a laugh and Hayden smiled but it looked forced as well.
My phone rang and I gasped, remembering I’d forgotten to call my mom when I got in the car like I promised. I answered immediately. “Sorry, Mom, I’m on my way home. We’re, like, an hour away.”
“I was worried.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I forgot to call.”
“Well, I thought maybe you went out to celebrate with your brother afterward, so when I couldn’t get a hold of you, I called him.”
“You did?” I squeaked. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer so I left a voice mail. He must’ve been busy.”
“Yes. I’m sure he’s out with friends or something. . . . What did you say in the voice mail?”
“I just asked if you were with him because you hadn’t checked in even though you promised you would.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, but all I could think about was that my brother now knew I had been there. I wondered how long before he listened to that message and what he’d say when he called me. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Okay. Drive safe.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hung up.
Bec said, “He knows?”
I checked my phone to make sure I didn’t have any missed calls from him. “Not yet. But he will.”
An hour later, after dropping off Nate, we pulled up to Hayden’s house and I met his eyes once again, confused as to why he wasn’t taking me home.
“Out,” he said to Bec.
“Fine. Whatever.”
I got out too and pulled her into a hug before she could go in the house. “Thank you for coming today and for trying to make me feel better.”
She squeezed me once. “I said I didn’t want to strangle you. That doesn’t mean I want to hug you.” I could hear the smile in her voice when she said it. “Thanks for helping me with Nate,” she said right before she was gone.
Hayden had stepped out of the car too and he gestured for me to follow him. He led me to a swing on the porch. “Sit,” he told me.
“You still think you’re in charge of me?”
“I don’t like the words ‘I’m fine.’ My mom tells me those two words are the most-frequently-told lie in the English language. And I don’t need her to tell me that. There is no way you are fine after what happened tonight.”
“Hayden, I appreciate what you did for me today. So much. But I really can’t talk about this right now.”
The look he gave me then made my heart ache. He felt sorry for me . . . again. “I’m worried about you. And I can’t send you home like this because you’ve told me how little you talk to your parents and I know the kind of people your friends are. And now I’ve seen your stellar brother. This is going to eat you alive. I just want you to talk it out. Let it out.”
“That’s not how I deal with things.” For a small space of time I’d thought I understood my brother. I thought I’d discovered this great mystery about why he fought with my parents—that he was just trying to express his opinions. But if this was how expressing opinions made the other person feel, I was perfectly fine with going back to the strategy of keeping the peace. Keeping everything inside.
Hayden sat on the porch swing and it was obvious he wasn’t moving until I said something. I wasn’t sure what was left to say. Nobody had ever tried so hard to get me to open up before. Maybe if I just started talking about other things, he’d realize I didn’t want to dwell on this. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to contain my emotions. I sat down next to him. “We’ve never had a porch swing. Do you sit out here a lot?”