The Fill-In Boyfriend, Lindsey Osorio, Lindsey Osorio, Lindsey Osorio, Lindsey Osorio [books to read for teens .TXT] 📗

I stopped in my tracks. Over the hood of the car, Laney looked at me wide-eyed. I smiled at her and climbed into the back. Claire gave me one confused look over her shoulder but then started the car.

“Ninety-six days until UCLA!” Jules screamed out the window. When had she started in on our countdown? She rolled up the window, reached forward, and turned on the radio. Then she started dancing and singing. Claire laughed and shoved her arm.

I sent off a text to Hayden: I’m having extreme patience with my frenemy. Does this count as being a better person?

The same frenemy I met?

 

Yes.

 

Being a better person doesn’t mean taking abuse.

She’s not abusive.

I respectfully disagree.

Is there any other way to disagree?

Many other ways, but I think respectfully is the most appropriate in this instance.

I laughed a little and Laney looked over at me. “Are you texting your blind date boy?”

I smiled and she squealed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy over a boy before.”

That statement wiped the smile from my face. “What? Of course I’ve looked happy over a boy before.”

“I know, but you’re . . . I don’t know. It’s different. You had a shine in your eyes.”

Claire teased, “Were you glowing, Gia?”

“What? No. I hardly know him. He just said something funny.” I tucked my phone away. Of course I wasn’t letting a boy get to me. Especially not Hayden. Our story was way too complicated to turn into something real.

“I don’t think you ever told us his name,” Claire said.

Because of how hard it was for me to earn his name, I felt a bit protective over it. I wanted to refuse to tell them. But I knew that was stupid. “Hayden.”

“Hayden?” Jules said. I wasn’t sure if she said it with a disgusted tone or if she always used a disgusted tone so it was hard to know when she truly was trying to express that emotion.

“Yes. Hayden,” I said. “I really like his name.”

“Me too,” Claire said. She pulled into the parking lot and I was glad to be out of the car. Had there always been this much tension when I hung out with my friends?

I had waited half a week to ask my parents about driving to UCLA with Hayden and Bec but I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. The way my mom had said, “The decision has been made,” last time we talked about the ceremony was freezing me up. I rarely fought with my parents. I usually agreed with them. The more I thought of it, the more I realized that I rarely fought with anyone. I didn’t like fighting. I disagreed with people in my head a lot but rarely out loud.

But I couldn’t avoid it this time. I needed their permission. And the thought of a possible argument with my parents was making my stomach hurt.

We sat at the dinner table eating a Costco rotisserie chicken. This was a bad sign. It meant my mom had worked all day and didn’t have time to make food. And when she had worked all day, she was crankier.

“This is really good,” I said, picking the chicken off the bone with a fork, my stomach too tight to actually eat it.

“I’m glad you like it,” my mom said.

“How was work?”

“I spent all day with a couple and they still haven’t made a decision.”

“Buying a house is a big deal,” my dad said. My mom leveled him with a look and he added, “But they probably should’ve researched more online first.”

“Yes, they should’ve.”

I waited for my dad to come back with another counterargument defending the couple but he didn’t. He kept the peace. Both of them always kept the peace. I opened my mouth and the words, But it’s your job to show people houses, almost came out. They were so close to coming out that I had to swallow. Now was not the time to say something stupid. I wanted to go somewhere this weekend. I needed their permission.

“So . . . I was thinking and I know you two can’t go to Drew’s award ceremony but I was hoping I could go.”

“By yourself?” my dad asked.

“Remember my friends you met the other night? The girl that I studied with and her brother? They offered to come with me.”

My parents looked at each other like they could speak telepathically and were discussing their answer. My mom spoke first. “I thought we’d decided we were going to honor Drew’s wishes.”

“I think Drew just doesn’t want to inconvenience us. And you don’t have to go. It would just be me.”

“And your friends that we hardly know.”

“You can talk to their parents. I think you’d really like their mom. She’s very nice.” I pulled out my phone. “Let me just text Hayden and get her number.”

“Gia, we haven’t made up our minds yet.”

“I know but this will help you decide one way or the other.”

Hey, can I get your mom’s phone number?

My mom is already taken but I can see why you’d be interested.

Funny. No, it’s for this weekend. My parents need a little persuading.

My mom is really good at that.

He sent the number and I looked up, slowly. It took me a moment to realize I had a goofy smile on my face. I let it fall. “Got the number. Just think about it.”

“I don’t want to fight about this,” my mom said.

“We’re not, Mom. We’re just talking.” I understood Drew in that moment more than I ever had. I’d always thought he was trying to rock the boat when maybe really all he was ever doing was expressing a different opinion. Maybe it was time I started expressing mine.

Chapter 21

 

As I waited in the kitchen, looking out the window every minute to see if Hayden had arrived yet, I was happier than I’d been all week. I clutched the tickets to Drew’s awards ceremony in my hand.

My mom came in, all dressed up in what I call her realtor clothes, which today was a red jacket paired with a black pencil skirt. “I still don’t really feel comfortable with this. I don’t know these kids very well and your brother is not even expecting you.”

“Mom, it’s a surprise. Please don’t tell Drew. And you talked to Hayden’s parents. I thought you were okay with this.”“I was. Now I’m feeling uncomfortable again.”

 

“When he gets here, you can meet him. It will help.”

She looked at her watch, probably wondering if she had time to meet him. Just when I was about to ask her schedule, the doorbell rang. My mom answered the door with me right behind her. I almost wished Bec would’ve stayed in the car because the calming effect Hayden might have given my mom, with his boyish hair flopping over his forehead and his disarming smile, was probably reversed by the anxiety Bec seemed to produce in her.

Hayden extended his hand. “Hi. You must be Mrs. Montgomery. I’m Hayden.”

“Hi, Hayden.”

“Hey, Mrs. M. Good to see you again,” Bec said.

“Hi. I just . . .” My mom’s brain was going to explode, I knew it. Her politeness was battling with her worry.

“Mom, we’ll be fine. Thanks for letting me go. I’ll call you as soon as we get there and the minute we get in the car to come home.”

She wrung her hands together and Hayden directed his smile to her. This made her release a breath and she nodded.

I hugged her before she could change her mind and slipped around her and out the door. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Be good. Love you.”

Bec took shotgun, as if visually showing me where she thought I belonged, and I climbed into the back.

Hayden put the car in reverse. “So your mom doesn’t trust us?”

I rolled my eyes. “My mom doesn’t trust anyone she doesn’t know, but as long as I can get her to mostly agree, I know she won’t say no in front of my friends. She doesn’t want anyone to think everything is not perfect.”

Bec laughed. “I’m glad you know how to manipulate your mom.”

“It’s more creative guidance.”

Hayden pulled out onto the main road. “How was your week?”

“Fine. Yours?”

“Long.”

I tried to interpret that one word. “Busy at school?”

“No, the exact opposite. It was just a really slow week. We’re gearing up for finals and so it’s a lot of review.”

“Right. Us too.”

“Ugh,” Bec said. “You two are boring. Maybe I should’ve taken the backseat after all.” With that she put in some earbuds.

“She has very little of my dad in her,” Hayden said.

I laughed.

“Okay, so what are your must-have road trip snacks?” he asked, pulling into the same 7-Eleven that I had followed Bec to the other day.

“I don’t know that I have any must-haves.”

He opened the door. “Then we better find you some.”

“Get me Corn Nuts and Twix,” Bec said loudly, not seeming to realize we could hear her just fine. “And get Nate licorice.”

Hayden pulled out one of her earbuds. “I’m not your personal shopper and I thought Nate wasn’t coming.”

His comment produced a long-suffering sigh from her. “He just texted me. He’s coming now.”

I thought she’d get out of the car and follow us in but she didn’t.

“Is she coming inside?” I asked.

“No, she knows I’ll feel guilty and get them for her.”

I laughed. “She has you conditioned, huh?”

“She really does.” He opened the door for me and it announced our arrival into the store with a beep.

“So Nate’s coming?”

“Is that okay?”

“Of course. You’re the driver. I have four tickets anyway so it works out.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot we had to have tickets for this thing. I’m glad you have enough.” He led me to the candy aisle. “Okay, so something sweet is a must.” He grabbed a bag of M&M’s. “But it has to be offset by something salty.” He picked up a bag of pretzels. “And then, of course, I need some caffeine.” He walked to the fridge and pulled out a Mountain Dew. “And that’s the perfect road trip combination.”

“You go on a lot of road trips?”

“We travel a lot. One summer my mom forced us to take a three-week trip in an RV around the United States. It was sheer torture.”

“How so?”

“Did you not hear me? I said three weeks. In an RV.”

“It sounds fun to me.”

“Says the girl who has never spent three weeks in an RV. It’s like living right on top of people. I felt like I was this close to Bec at all times.” He took two steps closer to me, pressing his chest against my shoulder. I got a whiff of his body spray and nearly closed my eyes because it smelled so good.

“That doesn’t seem so bad to me,” I said, looking up at him.

He offered me a smile. “Well, it was.” Then he put one arm around my back and grabbed a bag of Cheetos off the rack behind me. He held it between us. “These should be your salty. They’re good.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Not a Cheetos fan.”

He finally took a step back, allowing me to breathe again. “Okay, what treat would inspire you to write a letter to its maker?”

I looked at all the colorful packaging filling the aisle in front of me. Either I hadn’t tried