The Safe Bet (The Game Changers #3) (5 page)

The last day on the road arrived too quickly, as it tended to do when I was having fun. We were all exhausted and a little depressed about going home to summer jobs. Brock was going to work for his dad at his office. Neal was working construction, and I was working at a local pharmacy as a cashier while Ivy perfected her tan and read all the classics she hadn’t yet had time to read (yeah, right). She should have been happy compared to the rest of us, but she was just as down about going back home as us worker bees.

The car was quiet, too quiet. It was the complete opposite of the drive out of town. On the way, Ivy and I chatted away and sang to the loud music. I was busy avoiding Brock’s watchful eye and focused on having fun then. Now, I was spread out across the backseat while he held my feet in his lap and rubbed my calves. Ivy and Neal kept flipping through the radio, having an annoying silent music battle that made me wonder what crawled up their rears. A dark cloud was lingering over us as we traveled back home.

We stopped for gas about two hours away, and Ivy and I found ourselves alone while the boys ran into the station for drinks. “What if we never went back?” she asked, staring out the passenger side window where her feet were resting.

“What do you mean? Live like nomads? Skip college?”

“I don’t know. Just never go home.”

“My mom would love that,” I said sarcastically, forgetting for a moment about her family situation.

She seemed unfazed and responded quickly. “You’d be with Brock, though.”

“Yay.” I groaned and fell back against the seat.

“Still nothing?” she asked.

I continued to file my nails and pretend it didn’t matter. “Nope,” I answered, simply because there was really nothing else to say.

“You okay with that?”

“Nothing I can do.”

“You could talk to him about. Tell him how you feel.”

I sat up and leaned my head on the driver’s seat. “Then what? We’re eighteen. We have our whole lives ahead of us. I’d rather keep him as a friend forever than a boyfriend for a little while.”

“So you’re willing to watch him be with other girls? What if he finds someone who’s willing to tell him how she feels?” Ouch.

“It’s not like I want to see him with other girls,” I argued with a frown.

“Then do something about it. He’s a foregone conclusion, Reagan.”

I thought about it for a second. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want the easy choice. I don’t want him to be with me in ten years because it’s all we know, and I don’t want him only because I don’t want him to be with anyone else. He’s not a toy in the sandbox.” People who found each other young didn’t stay happy together forever. They usually broke up at some point, sometimes for a short time and sometimes for forever. If we ever got together, I wanted us to be ready for a real future together.

She snorted. “And there is no chance it could be mutual and lasting now.”

I ignored her. “Besides, it’s not worth ruining everything. Everything’s great how it is,” I lied to get her off my back.

If I were forced to admit why I hid my feelings, fear would be the primary reason. A gun would likely have to be pointed at my head for me to fess up that little nugget. Even then I would probably be more afraid of the truth than the gun. Every time I considered telling Brock how I felt about him, doubts filled my mind. There were times when the words rested on my tongue, but I bit down on that stupid muscle to prevent it from releasing such ridiculous thoughts that could never be taken back. Because at the end of the day, it would hurt so much more if he didn’t feel the same way. I could handle not knowing how he felt. Him breaking my heart was a completely different story.

Ivy obviously didn’t understand what this was like. “Sometimes I think you’re a boy.” She fell back against her seat, exasperated with me.

I wasn’t offended. In fact, I laughed and said, “That’s okay. Sometimes I think you’re a bitch.”

She air-kissed me with a loud smack. Our friendship was weird.

“What about you and Neal?” Payback time.

“What about us?”

“What’s up with you two? The tension is palpable.”

“Pssh. There’s nothing between us. The only reason he and I are friends is because of you and your friend, Brock. Besides, he’s always liked another girl, but she’s always been…preoccupied.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’ve seen you two cuddled up.”

“Shut up.” The conversation ended as the boys came back to the car laughing.

A sleeve of Chewy SweeTARTs came flying my way as soon as Brock opened the door. “What are these for?”

“They’re your favorite.” He shrugged.

Neal dramatically rolled his eyes and climbed in the driver’s seat. I ignored him and caught Ivy raising an eyebrow in the side mirror. I shook my head, knowing exactly what she was thinking. It was not a sign of true love that he bought me my favorite candy, but then again, I knew people who settled for less. At least I would always have sugar highs to look forward to.

Chapter Seven

Now

Meyer didn’t even make it through the first movie. She finished her bowl of ice cream and promptly fell asleep on Zoe’s leg. Zoe failed to finish her ice cream, which made it perfectly clear that she did not share the same gene pool as Meyer and me. No member of the Anders family tree misses a chance to ingest sugar.

I ended up watching the entire Anne of Green Gables series and finishing the rest of the ice cream. Then I couldn’t sleep because my stomach hurt so badly. I couldn’t decide if it was because of the ungodly amount of sugar I had eaten that night or the reappearance of Brock in my life. Either way, my stomach churned while my mind flipped between playing Brock’s words over and over again and my father’s bad omen, “You only cross paths with people from your past who were really meant to be in your life.”

While I considered it karma coming back to bite me, my father used it as an excuse to ditch his family. All I wanted to do was wipe my brain clean of the memories that plagued me in the dark. I remembered everything about Brock, every detail that led up to me leaving. The memories were my motivation to put him behind me, but they were also the reason I couldn’t.

Then he had the nerve to say, “I can’t forget about you.” Those were his last words before he drove off. What did that even mean? Had he been thinking about me this whole time like I thought about him? Or did he just want the closure that Jordan thought I needed? I was more confused than ever and feeling slightly hung over even though I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.

The next morning, I opened the store without my usual gusto. I didn’t bother watching for Restaurant Guy to go to his car to strip out of his wetsuit. My mind was too preoccupied to enjoy the show. The shipment of books arrived, and I wasn’t interested in ripping into the boxes like I usually did as soon as the delivery man set them down. This was why I didn’t need him in my life. I spent all morning trying to decipher the meaning of his words instead of floating on my awesome cloud. I was already obsessing, and it had been one day.

Thankfully, Melanie showed up around lunchtime with BLTs and sweet potato chips. It was a random, delicious combination that could have only come from one place.

“Restaurant Guy asked about you,” she said as she dropped the bags on the counter.

“Why?” I sounded far more disgusted than confused, but I wasn’t disgusted. I was weirded out. Why would a guy I periodically waved at ask about me? And why was another guy unable to forget about me?

“He said you weren’t in the window this morning. He thought you might be sick.”

“Nope. Not sick.”

“So, why didn’t you participate in your little game of wave and wink?”

“I’ve been busy.”

She glanced around the store, taking in the boxes of books and the flashing light on the phone telling me I had messages. “I see that.”

“Stop judging.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Not judging. More curious. What has the invincible Reagan all shook up?”

“Really, Melanie? Quoting Elvis?”

“Don’t be cruel. Tell me what’s up.”

“That was lame.”

“You’re lame,” she argued back.

This conversation was going nowhere fast, much like every other conversation we had. This was why I liked Melanie. She was always fun and never too serious. I also didn’t think for a second that she would have ever invited Brock over to dinner or hired him to work with her…unlike my supposedly loyal brother.

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to withhold the cheesecake Restaurant Guy sent?”

Ugh. I didn’t think my stomach could take more, but as it turned out, the mention of cheesecake had my tongue snapping to attention.

“Jordan’s kicking me out,” I attempted to distract her.

“Not going to work. Sorry to hear that, but it’s about time. Get back to the guy.”

Double damn.

“My past is coming back to haunt me, and Casper is not a friendly ghost.”

“Sounds intriguing. Tell me everything.”

I debated keeping my mouth shut, but she would only badger me until I told her. Not to mention, I didn’t have a single customer to distract me, or anywhere to be since she brought me lunch. She was a clever one, that Melanie.

“The guy I hung out with in high school and college has made a reappearance thanks to Jordan. We didn’t end on good terms…or have an ending at all, really. We were sort of together when I was in an accident. The next morning, after I had been released from the hospital, my mom drove me back to the apartment. Right as we pulled into the parking lot, he was walking out of his place with this leggy blonde bitch, Candace, in tow. That was the end. After that, I had to go home to recover from the accident, and I stopped speaking to him once I was gone.” That was all she was getting as a brief overview of my history with Brock. When I finished, she remained silent for a long moment. Our food rested on the counter untouched, and my stomach hurt a little more after remembering all that happened.

“Say something.”

“I just have one question.”

“Okay…”

“What happened to the leggy blonde bitch?”

“Candace Wood?”

“Sure.”

“Who knows? I wasn’t aware of what Brock had been up to until last night.”

“Really? You didn’t once stalk him online?”

“No. I have the self-control of a monk.”

“I’ll say. I stalk the crap out of my exes. My high school boyfriend is balding and married to a woman who posts pictures of her kids eating constantly. He stopped being interesting years ago, but I can’t seem to stop keeping tabs on him.”

“You realize that’s creepy, right?”

“You realize you’re going to have to talk to him, right?”

“I thought you were going to be on my side. What good are you?”

“Hey! I brought you lunch.”

“True. And cheesecake. Hand it over.” I waved my hand, and she passed me the box of cherry-covered deliciousness.

After lunch I felt motivated to at least put the new shipment away, check the voicemail, and go through the book requests I still had to order. I stayed busy until closing then forced myself to run off some of the calories I had recently ingested. After a long soak in the tub, I fell into my bed and crashed for twelve hours straight.

The next morning I was in a better mood and even watched for Restaurant Guy to strip in the parking lot. His smile lit up his face when he saw me watching, and in a daring move, I actually winked at him. It was smoother than I would have predicted. Go me.

When I stepped back in the store, I literally patted myself on the back for my awesome moment, then scolded myself for doing such a lame thing as patting my own back. When would I ever learn?

Meyer showed up after school. She had spent Sunday hiding out in her room, so I was glad to see her in better spirits. After she added three more books to the waiting list, she took over the seat in the big bay window to conquer her latest obsession with another dystopian series.

I was busy calling customers to let them know their books had arrived when I heard the bell jingle over the door. People were in and out all the time, most of them browsers, so I didn’t think anything of it until I heard Meyer snap, “What are you staring at?”

A low chuckle vibrated through the store, and I immediately knew who had entered. “You know, Reagan said the same thing to me the first time I met her.”

“Then perhaps you should stop staring at people,” Meyer told him.

“I just can’t believe how much you look like her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get in line. No one can.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked Brock without looking up from highlighting another name on the list. The less eye contact made, the better.

“Stopping by to see you. Waverly’s, huh? Clever.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him approaching the front where I was safely trapped behind the heavy wood and glass display.

“She was a great teacher.”

“That she was.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, so all I could see were the muscles and his face that had girls doing double takes for years. “Who else would have put up with you challenging them every day like that?”

My eyes finally met his, and I found them full of humor and so familiar that it was hard to breathe. “No one, likely. That’s why it was so fun. Now, why are you really here?”

“I was hoping I could take you to dinner. I think we should talk on more neutral ground.”

“I can’t tonight. I’m busy.”

“You any good at scrabble?” Meyer interrupted, ignoring my scowl.

“The best. I used to beat her all the time,” Brock nodded his head my way.

“Liar,” I coughed out.

“Please,” he scoffed. “I still hold the record from that game that lasted through the flood of 2001.” Damn it. Did he forget anything?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Meyer’s eyes flick between Brock and me. I knew what was coming before she opened her silly little mouth. “Why don’t you come over? We’re just having pizza and playing board games. We do it every Sunday night.”

“Meyer, go call your dad.” Her jaw dropped, and she did that teenager thing where she stomped her foot then stormed away when she saw I was serious. She was only ten! Since when do ten-year-olds act like that?

“So, I’ll see you tonight.” Brock turned and stepped toward the door.

“What? No. That invitation doesn’t count.”

“Then come to dinner with me. It’s one or the other, Rea.” The nickname. He had me, and he knew it. Either he came to the house where everyone would be witness to the awkward tension between us or we had dinner alone. What was the lesser of the two evils?

“Fine. I’ll join you for dinner.” I decided keeping Jordan from having additional ammunition was worse than being alone with Brock then immediately regretted it.

“Good. Wear something casual,” he said, then left the way he came, leaving me feeling dumbfounded…again.

“I’m not changing,” I yelled after him. All my good feelings from this morning were gone. Since when do men want to talk?