TMI (3 page)

“Will you
stop
doing that?”

“What?” She blinked, and Meg glared, not buying the innocent act.

“Stop pushing us together. It's not fair to him.”

“He really likes you.”

Meg's eyes dropped. She knew that, and that was the entire problem. She couldn't afford to like him back, and the more time they spent together, the harder it was to remember why.

“Bay, I don't want to let him down.”

“Not all guys are like our dads, Meg.”

Meg sucked in a sharp breath. Neither of their dads had bothered to stick around long. Bailey never knew her dad, but Megan had known hers. She missed him. Every day, she missed him so much she was sure she'd choke on the tears. Bailey's words were a slap, and they both knew it. “Bay, I don't want—”

“Oh, you are
such
a liar. If you really don't want him, why does your face light up like Broadway when you see him?”

It did
not
. Meg was so done with this conversation. “Shut up. I'm mad at you.”

Bailey pouted and twisted a curl. “You love me.”

She did. But she was really mad too.

Bailey pursed her lips and shook her head. “So. Spill. What did he say the last time you went to the museum?”

Meg frowned, remembering. In February, she and Chase had been partnered up on a research paper. They'd grown close—too close—during the month it took to research their topic, the objectification of women in modern art. She'd been excited by the assignment. Chase had been excited by his assigned partner. “We saw a print of
The
Scream
by Edvard Munch. Chase saw it and said, ‘Hey, this guy's an artist too? I thought he just produced horror movies.'”

Bailey blinked. “What's so wrong with that? At least he knew his name. That's more than I would have gotten right.”

She spoke quietly, but there was a sting in her tone, and Meg squirmed under the sudden attack of conscience. “You're right,” Meg said quietly. “That was snobby and mean and ungrateful and—”

“Meg, stop! I never said that. Look. I'm just saying, Chase is trying. You should too.”

Bailey scooped her books from the table, snagged her tray, and left Meg standing in the shadow of her own ego.

In the girls' locker room, Bailey blotted and dabbed and rubbed and wiped at the red streaks all over her True Religion jeans that had cost
all
of her birthday money, which Meg would totally have a cow about if she knew, and Bailey wasn't about to press Play on
that
song. Meg never spent her money unless it was for art supplies. She was all about saving for college and the future and—and her freakin' retirement. Meg was always planning, planning, planning and wasn't happy unless she had plans for her plans. Hell, even breaking up with Simon was a Meg Plan!

Her heart hurt when she thought of it. Simon looked so sad under all that tough guy acting. Maybe Meg was wrong. Maybe Simon had a really good reason for flirting with what's-her-face. He was so pretty, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and movie star life. She'd believed him when he told her she was hot. She'd believed him when he told her she was the only girl in his life. He'd been the one who got her hooked on video games back in ninth grade—first
Halo
and then
Call
of
Duty
and, after that,
Portal
. When Bailey showed not just interest but actual skill, Simon finally asked her out this semester, and she fell with a splat.

He was so cool on their first date. He did all those gentlemanly things like hold doors open and pull out chairs, and he never tried any moves. He took her to a nice restaurant, asked her a bunch of questions, and really listened to her answers. He walked her to do her door, asked if he could see her again, and promised to call. She walked inside, hurried up the stairs to her room, and flipped on the light, and her phone buzzed. He told her he'd had a great time and couldn't wait to ask her to breakfast the next morning. Swooning, Bailey agreed. The next morning, he picked her up, drove to Bailey's favorite game store, and handed her a bagel while they waited for the doors to open. Meg thought that was lame, but Bailey deemed it the perfect date. That was when he kissed her for the first time. Oh, that kiss! She brushed her lips, not surprised they still tingled. It was amazing and romantic and perfect, and every date was just like that one. They'd been great together. Or so she'd thought.

And then somewhere along the line, he'd stopped respecting her
.
Little things at first. So little that Bailey hadn't even noticed them. Things like snapping at her, teasing her, rolling his eyes at the things she'd said. But Meg had noticed. And Meg didn't take any crap from anybody. It was one of the things Bailey loved most about her best friend—and also the least.

She frowned at herself for the traitorous thought. She'd first seen Meg's courage that day back in second grade on Bring Your Dad to School Day. There were a bunch of kids in their class who didn't have dads. Bailey didn't, so she asked Gramps, but he had to work, and there was no way her mom's skeevy boyfriend would show up, even if she wanted him to, so Gran came instead. Rather than being grateful, Bailey nearly threw a tantrum because she was the only kid there without a male guest. Abby had brought her uncle. Karla had brought her big brother. Marc had his mom's boyfriend with him, and Shane, a pudgy kid with a buzz cut, had brought his grandpa, who was also chubby and had a buzz cut. Everyone without a dad had brought someone—except Megan. And she stood up there in the front of that classroom and told everyone her dad
was
there, even though they couldn't see him.

He was watching from heaven.

Bailey thought that was the bravest thing she'd ever seen and told Megan that at recess, when she'd shared her cookies because Meg didn't have a snack. Over the years, she'd come to rely on Meg's courage to say what needed to be said, even when she didn't want to hear it. But Simon wasn't that pair of yoga pants Meg warned her not to buy. He was the love of her life, and now…he wasn't.

Oh, she shouldn't have listened to Meg! She should have talked to Simon and worked things out, but it was too late. He'd never speak to her again. She'd been so sure Simon was “The One.” Guys never stuck by her for very long. Meg said it was because Bailey was too nice and that guys appreciated a little strong will once in a while.

Bailey moaned in frustration. It wasn't fair! She just wanted to fall in love. Was that really asking so much? To find someone who loved and adored her in an Edward-loves-Bella way, only in a less stalker-y way, someone who she could fall head over high heels into love with—love song love, movie love. Real, happily-ever-after, to-die-for love.

She thought of Chase and moaned again. Meg had it! She had the kind of love Bailey dreamed about and wished for just a few houses away, only Meg just kept swatting at it like it was some hairy spider. If Chase ever looked at her the way he looked at Meg, she'd never, ever tell him no. He was no Simon, but Chase was strong and quiet and loyal and seriously cute, the way his brown hair dipped over his eyes.
Those
eyes.

Meg had a little shrine in her room dedicated to Chase's eyes. Sure, she never talked about it. But Bailey knew exactly what the various shades of green smeared all over Meg's easel meant. She had it bad for Chase but would rather paint those gorgeous green eyes instead of stare into the real thing. Meg was all about “The Future,” and unless Chase Gallagher came with a Satisfaction Guaranteed! promise, there was no room for him in those plans.

The
future
, she snorted. The future was years and years away! Who cared about that stuff when they were seventeen? She pressed her lips together and sighed at her jeans. They were hopelessly stained. Gran would know some laundry trick that would work. Maybe she should call Gran and pretend she was way more upset than she really was just to get out of spending the rest of the afternoon in these jeans. That was as far into the future as Bailey ever dared to look. She much preferred the present.

Bailey's lips twitched. If Chase were part of
her
present, what would Meg think? If Chase liked
her
, would Meg mind? Would she even notice? Meg would never admit it, never talk about it, but she had a competitive streak in her as wide as Simon's shoulders. Yeah, yeah, it was devious. A little competition might be just what Meg needed to make her appreciate the things she took for granted, things that were right under the nose that was always buried in a textbook or smeared with paint.

Besides—and now Bailey smiled—if Meg was all wrapped up in her own love life, maybe she'd finally butt the hell out of hers.

Her mind made up, Bailey considered various ways she could get Chase Gallagher to pay her some attention. She and Meg looked nothing alike. Meg was athletic and brunette, while Bailey was blond and soft, so changing her appearance wouldn't help. And she couldn't produce a decent painting if it came in a Crayola package, so art was out. Bailey's mind discarded various ideas until she remembered Chase's brothers. She could help them with something, obviously not homework because Meg helped Bailey with hers. But maybe…wait! She smacked her forehead. She wouldn't need his brothers. Chase was a game geek just like she was. Plus, he was also into computer programming. Maybe she could convince him to help her build her video game.

She grabbed her phone to text him, even though it was against school rules, and he probably had his on vibrate anyway, but she didn't want to waste another moment. Bailey was totally committed to getting this game built, even though Meg thought it was dumb. She hated video games, though she frequently bounced ideas off her and even sketched some characters. But Bailey always felt like Meg would rather be doing a hundred other things instead of game design.

Bailey deleted her half-typed text message. Maybe she should just forget the stupid video game. It's not like it was going to be her career or anything. Wait. Why couldn't game design be her career? With her eyes rolling, she scolded herself for thinking like Meg. Okay, so she didn't know anything about computers or programming or graphics, but she could learn. She was smart.

Sort of.

When Meg forced her to be.

Bailey locked herself in a graffiti-marked stall that reeked of old cigarettes, sat on one of the toilets, and put her head in her hands. She didn't know—that was the entire problem! She didn't know what she wanted to do, what she wanted to be. Hell, she wasn't even sure of who she was. Just some kid without a dad. The result of another teenage pregnancy. Thankfully, her mother had Gran and Gramps. Bailey wasn't all that sure Nicole would have even kept her if her grandparents hadn't been there. Some days, she wished she had just one answer—just one—instead of nothing but big hairy question marks. She tried. Oh, people could say whatever they wanted, but nobody could say Bailey Grant did not try. She'd tried gymnastics for a while…and horseback riding. She'd even tried to like football (and still wasn't completely sure why anyone actually did).

But none of it made her happy.

And now she had the video game. Meg was always yelling at her for not sticking with things, so this time, she would. She would learn how to create a video game. There had to be something on Google, an app she could buy. Chase would know.

Maybe she wouldn't tell Meg she was working with Chase—if he even said yes.

She tapped out a new message to Chase asking if he'd meet her later and clicked Send. With a happy smile, she looked down at her jeans, which were still stained and now very wet, and decided she'd had enough school for the day.

“Hi, Gran. Can you pick me up? I had a little accident.”

It took Bailey five full minutes to assure Gran she wasn't hurt, sick, or in the principal's office. But Gran was on her way. She zipped her bag, left the stall, gave her hair a flip in front of the mirror, and spun around at the sound of a slow clap.

“Oh, you're good. I thought you'd have to pull out the fake tears.”

Caitlyn. Wasn't that just perfect? With narrowed eyes, Bailey sneered. “Caitlyn, don't you have a class or maybe someone's boyfriend to steal?”

“Been there, done that. This was a lot more fun.” She waved a hand over Bailey's ruined jeans and turned to the mirror to reapply a slick of lip gloss over the dozen or so coats she was already wearing.

Bailey shrugged. “If the stains don't come out, I get to go shopping. It's a win-win.”

Caitlyn paused, the gloss wand hovering over full lips. “They won't. Gatorade never does. That was my idea.”

Bailey's heart gave a little flutter at that. She knew Simon wouldn't have thought to do it on his own. Even though he'd hurt her, she knew he wasn't cruel. But there was no way she'd let Caitlyn know that. “Then I owe you one.” She straightened her spine and bared her teeth.

Caitlyn took a step closer and pinned on a plastic smile. “Isn't Simon just the hottest thing ever? His hands—oh, and the things he can do with his lips.” She looked carefully from side to side and lowered her voice. “Well, I don't have to tell you he's got some mad skills seeing as how you were with him.” She smoothed her sleek hair in place. “You were with him, right?”

She never gave Bailey a chance to answer. With a flip to the ends of her long blond hair, she headed for the door.

“Oh, well. Just means there's more for me. Bye!”

Bailey watched the door close after Caitlyn and unfisted her hands.
What
a
total
bitch.
She stared at the crescent impressions in her palms and wondered why she was upset. It wasn't like Simon had dumped her. She'd dumped
him
. That was it, wasn't it? That Bailey used to have something Caitlyn now had. It was the way Caitlyn operated, making you second-guess yourself for every little decision. She'd always been that way. Back in first grade, Bailey traded folders with Kimmie Li. Kimmie had
My
Little
Pony,
while she'd been stuck with
Hello
Kitty
. Hello—who wouldn't have made that trade? But Caitlyn put her arm around Kimmie and ooh'd and aah'd over
Hello
Kitty
. Wasn't it so cute? Look how it matched her notebook. Did she also have the pajamas and sheets for her bed too? And the whole time—the
entire
time—her eyes stayed pinned on Bailey's.

Bailey never traded anybody anything after that.

If Caitlyn wanted Simon, fine. They could have each other.

She took one last glance at her jeans and sighed.

They really were trashed.