Love Me, Love Me Not Read online

  As if reading my thoughts, Brad asks, “Where’s Michelle?”

  Abbie replies, “She’s at UNC Wilmington, visiting her cousin for the weekend. She won’t be back until Sunday.”

  I try to hide a smile at the news but must fail because Brad pokes me in the side with his elbow. “Don’t look so happy,” he whispers.

  “Sorry,” I reply, now smiling even bigger, “I’m just tired of her evil glares.”

  He rolls his eyes. “She’s not evil. She’s just…”

  “Yes?” I ask as I stop my pouring. It’s childish and ridiculous, but I can’t stop myself from feeling a little irritated he’d defend her. I realize we’re not together, but I still don’t want him standing up for her of all people.

  “You’re right,” Brad says, taking one look at my face. “She’s evil.” He tears open the package of hot dogs and then begins spearing them with metal skewers.

  “Good answer,” Brittany says, slapping him on the back. Then she winks at me.

  I roll my eyes. Since our talk yesterday, she’s been looking for every opportunity to point out anything he does that could remotely be taken as a sign he likes me. I haven’t told her signs are no longer needed since he flat-out told me earlier today. I thought about telling her but realized it would open a whole can of worms I don’t want to get into with her or anyone else.

  “You better be careful,” Abbie says, reaching for a skewer from Brad. “First high maintenance and now evil? If she finds out what you’ve been saying, there will be hell to pay.”

  Brad holds tight to the skewer as she tries to pull it away. “How do you know I called her high maintenance?”

  “Adam told me,” she says, yanking the hot dog from him.

  Brad glares at Adam.

  “Dude, you know I don’t gossip,” he replies, turning around to focus on the fire and clearly distancing himself from the drama right here.

  We all stare at Abbie. “Well, technically I overheard you telling Adam.”

  “Overheard or spied on us?” Brad asks.

  “Don’t even give me that. You read my entire diary when I was eleven. This doesn’t even compare!”

  He smiles. “Stephen is sooooo cute! I hope he’ll sit next to me in choir. Maybe he’ll be my first kiss,” Brad says in a girly voice, and then makes kissing noises in her direction.

  “You’re such a pain in the ass,” she says, reaching around me to smack his arm.

  He smiles at her and then turns serious again. “Don’t tell Michelle, okay?” he says.

  “I won’t,” Abbie says, giving him an annoyed look before taking her hot dog over to the fire.

  He hands me and Brittany each a skewer and then the three of us join Abbie and Adam. I sit on the edge of a sofa. Brad stands next to me and we start cooking our dinner over the flames.

  “Did you really read Abbie’s diary?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Adam and I both did while she was at gymnastics practice.”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  With a shrug, he replies, “That’s the kind of shit brothers do to their little sisters.”

  He lowers himself to the sofa, much too close, and makes it really hard for me not to think about what tonight could have been if I had only listened to my heart earlier today. We’d be having a nice dinner, just the two of us. I wonder if he would’ve dressed up like he did at homecoming? Would I be staring at a preppy Brad rather than the casual Brad in jeans and a T-shirt next to me? Not that it matters—his jeans and T-shirt emphasize all the right places.

  I feel my cheeks heating up and have to scoot away from him.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  He gives me a sexy smirk. “I don’t believe that. Are you still making your decision?” I know exactly what he means—the decision about us. “Because I’d be happy to try to influence you.”

  “How exactly would you do that?” I ask.

  He finishes his hot dog in two bites, then lays his skewer down and leans back on the sofa, draping his arm over the cushions. He’s not touching me but would be if I leaned back.

  “First, I’d make a list of all the positives,” he whispers while the others are caught up in a conversation about weekend plans.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Number one: You need a boyfriend who doesn’t treat you like shit so you know what a real relationship is.” He holds out his hands, like he’s waiting for me to argue. When I say nothing, he smiles, probably assuming I’ve given him the point.

  “Number two: We’re adorable together.”

  I laugh at his smug attitude while he grabs his phone out of his pocket. He sweeps his finger across the screen a couple of times and then turns it toward me so I can see a photo of us at homecoming. We are adorable, especially him. “You do look pretty good,” I whisper.

  He smiles again, taking this point, too.

  “Number three: We’d have good … chemistry.”

  I gulp. “You’re not talking acids and bases, are you?”

  “Nope.” He scoots over until his side is touching mine again.

  I abruptly stand. “I need a bun.” And some space.

  I head back to the table and take my time loading ketchup onto my hot dog so my racing heart can find its normal rhythm again.

  Joining me, Brittany says, “You two looked pretty cozy over there.”

  I shake my head and take a bite.

  She gives me a smile like she doesn’t believe me for a second. Luckily, though, she lets it go. “How are you adjusting to the whole foster-care thing? Feeling better about it?”

  I nod. “It’s pretty good. The worst part is I have to meet my mom in a couple weeks.”

  She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Sorry.”

  It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. “What should I expect?” I ask. “Will it be good or a waste of time?”

  “It was different for me because I was pulled when I was only six. I didn’t know any better, so I looked forward to seeing her. Of course, she missed most of our meetings.”

  “But it was good when she was there?”

  “I guess. As I got older, it changed, though. I stopped making excuses for her. And then it hurt more when she didn’t show.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah, I used to self-medicate on those days.”

  “Really?” I had no idea she was into drugs. She certainly doesn’t look like she uses now.

  She shrugs. “It was a bad time.”

  “And now?”

  “A much better time.”

  “No more self-medicating?”

  “Not in two and a half years.”

  “Good.”

  She nods. “Your situation will be different since you already hate your mom.”

  “I wonder if she’ll put on an act or treat me like she normally does?”

  She shrugs. “No matter how bad it is, remember, when you’re done, you get to go home to the Campbells and forget about her again for a while.”

  I nod and take another bite. That’s true. It’s only an hour of torture. I used to put up with it twenty-four-seven, so an hour is nothing.

  After swallowing, I say, “Hey, are you going to that LINKS training this week?” It’s foster-kid training on money management, which would probably be good for me. Plus, they’re taking all of us to a bank to get checking accounts. Since I’ve been getting an allowance from the Campbells, it would be nice to put the money someplace safer than my underwear drawer.

  “Yep,” she says after finishing her hot dog. “Joelle’s making me. She said I need to learn how to budget.”

  “Why?”

  “She got mad at me for buying these,” she says, sticking out her leg and modeling her new shoes. They’re yellow Vans that have a retro look to them. “They were expensive, but totally worth it, right?”

  I shrug. As cute as they are, I wouldn’t have paid more than about ten bucks for them. I bet she spent a lot more.


  “Definitely worth it,” Abbie says, walking by us with a bag of chips she got from inside. “It’s getting cold out here. Come back to the fire.”

  I finish my hot dog, and then we follow her. I have to decide where to sit. Brittany chose next to Adam on the love seat, and Abbie took the opposite end of the sofa from Brad. I can take the middle of the sofa between Abbie and Brad, the rock wall, or a lounge chair on the opposite side of the fire.

  I know where I want to sit, but I also know it’s a bad idea. Instead, I head for the lounge chair.

  Over the next hour, as the sun sets, we talk and joke and eat s’mores. It’s fun and relaxing, especially without Michelle. I feel guilty thinking this, but I wish she wasn’t part of their group. Everyone seems much less tense when she’s not around.

  “Can I take a look?” Brittany asks. Adam and Abbie were telling her about the Thunderbird their dad’s restoring.

  “Sure. It’s in the garage,” Adam says, standing.

  He asks, “Want to come, Hailey?”

  “No, thanks.” It would take something much more interesting than a car to pull me away from the warmth of the fire.

  The three of them leave, and then it’s just me and Brad sitting about a mile away from each other. He smiles and waves.

  I wave and then lean back on the lounge chair, closing my eyes and enjoying the sounds of crackling fire and chirping crickets.

  Suddenly, high-pitched yipping fills the night, followed by a lower and longer howl. It kind of sounds like a dog, but not really.

  “What is that?” I ask, sitting up.

  “Coyotes.”

  “No, it’s not.” Why is he messing with me? We don’t have coyotes around here.

  Do we?

  The sounds continue. “Is it really coyotes?”

  “Yeah.”

  I pull my legs up to my chest and scan the backyard, but it’s black as coal out there. “Where are they?”

  “They live in the woods behind our neighborhood.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  I try to lie back again, but the continued noises are nerve-racking. How many are there? How far away are they? I shiver, realizing the fire is no longer warm enough to keep the goose bumps from my arms.

  Sitting up, I scan the backyard again.

  “There’s plenty of room over here,” Brad says, motioning to the sofa.

  Just then, a loud howl cracks through the night, sounding like it’s practically in the backyard. I jump to my feet without a second thought and leap onto the sofa next to him.

  He laughs and puts his arm around my shoulders. “They’re mostly harmless,” he says.

  “Then I should go back over there,” I reply, motioning to the chair.

  “I mean, they’re vicious animals,” he says with a squeeze. “Stick with me and I’ll keep you safe.”

  He’s joking, but I do feel safer. I always feel safe next to him. Whether it’s coyotes or Chase, he seems to know exactly what to do. I’m not sure how he convinced Chase to stay away, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since that awful night.

  “Thanks,” I murmur.

  “Anytime. I’d hate for your beautiful face to be mauled by a coyote.”

  I wasn’t talking about right now, but I don’t want to discuss Chase and how Brad kept him away, so I nod and snuggle into his side, enjoying how he called me beautiful. It’s stupid, I know, but I’m not used to someone talking to me like that. It makes me feel different. Better. Like I finally really matter to someone.

  He rests his chin on the top of my head and rubs my shoulder. In the back of my mind, I think this should be awkward, but it feels completely comfortable. Like this is just a natural extension of our friendship. I sigh and enjoy his warmth and his clean scent mixed with the smell of campfire as I let my heart take control again for a few minutes until the others return.

  “This is nice,” he says. “Did my list of pros win you over?”

  “No. I’m still taking everything into consideration. There’s the list of cons, too, you know.”

  “Right. The con that at some point in the future we might have a fight that might somehow make things a little awkward. That definitely outweighs all the pros,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  “You forgot the con of me possibly getting kicked out.”

  “My parents aren’t going to kick you out.”

  “DSS might.”

  “They don’t need to know.”

  I angle my body toward him to see his face. “For real?”

  He grins at me. “Yeah, we’ll have a covert relationship. We’ll be like spies living two different lives: friends whenever anyone else is around and … more when it’s just us.”

  “How very James Bond of you,” I reply with a laugh. He can’t be serious.

  “I am a big fan of James Bond.”

  “Well, you do have the dashing good looks and a way with the opposite sex.”

  “Don’t forget how good I am at handling myself in a brawl, too.”

  “Right.”

  “So, a secret relationship, then?” he asks, his eyes filling with hope.

  “People would find out.”

  “How?”

  “Abbie could hear you talking to Adam, and then she could tell Michelle, and then the whole world would know.”

  He shakes his head. “I won’t tell Adam.”

  “Don’t you tell him everything?”

  “Yeah,” he replies with a shrug, “but I can make an exception for this.”

  I’m not sure, but I think there’s a rule against dating someone if you can’t tell your best friend about that person. If not, there should be. It probably means it’s the exact opposite of what you should be doing. “It still seems like a really bad idea.”

  “Then you haven’t thought about it long enough. Keep thinking.”

  I smile at his answer. He’s going to be persistent. I should probably find that annoying, but knowing someone cares enough to keep trying has the opposite effect. It sends a warm rush through my chest.

  “This is nice,” I reluctantly say, scooting closer. It’s just snuggling. That’s not so bad, right? We’re just sitting next to each other, talking, and his arm happens to be around my shoulders and my head happens to be on his chest.

  “Would you be totally opposed to me kissing you right now?” he asks.

  And there’s the problem with snuggling.

  I tip my head up, and we lock gazes. He’s wearing a shy half smile, and his intense blue eyes bore a hole straight to my soul, looking for an answer.

  “It would be nice,” I reply.

  “But it’s not going to happen?”

  I shake my head, thankful I’m able to find at least a shred of self-control tonight. I can’t risk my placement and everything good that’s happened in the last month. Not even for him.

  He nods. I expect him to move away from me, but he just holds me tighter. “This is good enough for now.”

  The warm rush from earlier turns into a flood, spreading throughout my body and settling in my stomach, where it sits there feeding my heart and tormenting my brain. As much as I love his words—because they’re so unlike anything I ever heard from Chase—the problem is this: Snuggling on the sofa when no one is around really can’t be good enough for now.

  It has to be good enough forever.

  CHAPTER 18

  Two weeks later, I’M at DSS in a room with kids’ toys and my mom. This is the first time I’ve seen her or even talked to her in almost two months. She’s sitting on the sofa when I enter.

  Looking at her is no longer like looking in a mirror. We have the same coloring and are the same height, but my once dull and brittle hair is thick and shiny, my cheeks have filled out, and my tiny legs and chest are fuller. She seems to look even worse than I remember, with more wrinkles and dark bags under her eyes. She looks fifty but is only thirty-three. It’s a side effect of the drugs and alcohol. They really should show before and after pi
ctures during health education. That would definitely persuade most of the girls to stay away.

  “Hailey, honey, I’ve missed you so much,” she says all singsongy. She never talks like that, so I immediately know she’s putting on a show for Sherry. She jumps to her feet and wraps me in a hug, but I let my arms hang by my side. I haven’t missed her one bit. I don’t even want to see her now.

  “I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Sherry says, leaving the room.

  As soon as the door closes, my mom crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me. “Where’d you get the fancy clothes?” she asks in her usual nasty way.

  I look down at what I’m wearing. Jeans and a pink T-shirt. Far from fancy, but much nicer than anything in her closet. “I got a clothing stipend from DSS.”

  “Must be nice having someone handing money to you.”

  “It’s not for long. I’ll be on my own in March.”

  She sits back down and pats the cushion next to her. “I wanted to see you weeks ago.”

  I stay standing. “I know, but I wasn’t ready.”

  “Weren’t ready to see your dear old mom?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve gained weight.”

  “Why did you want to see me?” I ask.

  “I talked to Chase.”

  My stomach drops at her words. Nothing they talk about could lead to anything good for me. When I don’t say anything, she continues, “He said you’re living in some billionaire’s place now.”

  “They’re not billionaires.”

  I actually don’t know how much money the Campbells have, but they aren’t billionaires.

  “He saw all the paintings they have hanging up.”

  Crap. How did Chase see the artwork? He was in the basement but never made it up to the gallery. I guess the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room might give a view to that area if he was in the backyard.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, studying the bookshelf filled with brightly colored toys.

  “Don’t play dumb with me. Chase talked to his cousin, and he said we might could get a hundred grand for a few of those! We’d be set for the rest of our lives, Hay-Hay,” she says, switching her tone from angry to sickly sweet. She only calls me Hay-Hay when she wants something from me, and I know exactly what she wants from me right now.