Playing Cupid Page 2

  “All right. If there isn’t anything else, you may use the remaining time planning what you and your partner will present to me on the day of the final.”

  Chatter peppered the classroom and I glanced around. Stacey and Kyle were already taking notes. Sasha laughed at something Stuart said. Everyone was engaged and ready to work. Taking a steady breath, I twisted my body and reluctantly faced Jay. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

  “So, what do you suggest we should—”

  Jay raised his hand. “Ms. O’Dowd? I have a pass for the office.” He waved the tiny blue slip of paper for her to see.

  Ms. O’Dowd approached and took the pass. She gave it a quick glance and signed it. “This is not the best time, Mr. Michaels. The rest of class time was meant for you and Ms. Cooper to work together on your final.”

  Jay pasted a silky smile on his face. My stomach tightened. “I know, Ms. O’Dowd, but don’t worry. Megan and I will meet on our own to make sure our meal is top shelf. You won’t be disappointed.”

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “And you’re fine with this?” she asked.

  I nodded, keeping my face as relaxed as possible. Liar—me and Jay. At least we were already working together. Too bad there weren’t points for pulling one over on your teacher. I glanced down at the packet on my lap just to be sure. Nope, lying definitely wasn’t getting us any closer to passing. But there was no reason Ms. O’Dowd needed to know we were already having conflicts. And there was absolutely no way I’d let that idiot make me fail. I would graduate early. My insides shook in anticipation at the prospect of leaving everything all behind. No more whispers in the hallway. No more awkward conversations with teachers. No more being that girl anymore. No, I would graduate early. Even if it meant lying through my teeth.

  Apparently satisfied, Ms. O’Dowd made a small “hmph” sound and waddled off to another kitchen. I spun around to face my partner.

  “What the hell, Jay?” I hissed. “We haven’t even started the project, and already you’re blowing me off.” The temperature of my blood rose even higher.

  “Relax, okay? I have every intention of doing my part. It’s just I really have to be somewhere right now.”

  “Uh, yeah. School.”

  Jay’s mouth tightened, his lips forming a straight line. He gestured toward me, his hazel eyes meeting mine. “Here, let me have your phone.”

  “What? My phone? What do you…why do you…?” My tongue fumbled, unable to form complete sentences. Still, I reached into my back pocket and produced the requested device. My fingers grazed his as I placed it on his waiting palm.

  He sucked in his breath at the slight touch, his head whipping up, and our eyes met again, this time with more intensity. Electricity zapped from his body to mine, and I inhaled sharply as I returned his gaze. What in the holy heck? It only took a second for him to recover, the feeling gone, and his eyes drawing down to my phone as he cleared his throat.

  “This is my number.” He quickly input his digits into my contacts.

  Wow, he’s even cool when he’s blowing you off.

  I cursed my inner voice to shut up.

  “Text me and we’ll make plans to meet up, okay?”

  I nodded, speechless. He handed back my phone and unzipped his backpack. He shoved his binder in the bag, pushing aside a basketball jersey and a neon orange laminated nametag on a lanyard. Curiosity snagged my focus. What was that for? Everyone on campus knew him. Everyone in town, too, if I had to bet on it. I tilted my head to the side to read the words on the top of the badge but was interrupted when he quickly zipped it shut.

  “Well, see ya.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” I said. “What are we even going to make?”

  Jay shrugged. “Whatever you want. Ladies’ choice, Meggo. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  My stomach dive-bombed at the nickname. “Don’t call me that. We aren’t in middle school anymore. My name is Megan,” I shot at him.

  “Okay then, Megan. Whatever you want, just pick something. I really gotta go, see you around,” he said, walking away.

  I watched as he left, my hands clasping my phone. Sitting alone in kitchen seven, my jaw dropped and heat swirled in my center. I tossed my phone onto my bag. I couldn’t believe it. Five minutes into the project, and I’d already been Jay Michael’d. I rubbed circles along my temples, the minor beating inside my head now a major thumping. Classic.

  “Partner, my ass,” I scoffed as I dug through my backpack, retrieving a pen. I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and began writing a list of possible meals we…no, I could do. After all, it appeared I was on my own.

  “Whatever you want…it doesn’t matter to me,” I mumbled under my breath.

  When the final bell rang at three o’clock, I could barely keep the angry tears at bay, and my wrist ached from pressing too hard on the paper. How dare he leave me to do everything on my own. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Hadn’t Dad done the same? What else should I have expected?

  Well, not this time, Jay. You can’t take me for granted.

  I shoved my notebook and pen deep into my bag and stormed out of class. If Jay thought he’d be able to push me around, to do his homework, well then, he’d lost his mind.

  It was just after four by the time I pulled into the driveway. I could only loiter so long in the library before campus security shooed me out and I had to suck it up and go home. I sat in my car a few minutes before the temperature noticeably began to fall. Rallying for what was most likely to be another uncomfortable exchange with Dad, I stepped out into the late afternoon, cold air biting at my cheeks. As I approached the side door, I faltered at the sight of his silhouette through the kitchen curtain and braced myself as I turned the door handle and entered.

  Dad stood at the sink drying the dishes. He didn’t look up as I placed my backpack on the closest kitchen chair. I shivered. Forty-four degrees outside, and I didn’t get the chills until I was inside. Typical.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Dad faced me and winced. His mouth twisted before he could force a smile. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For just a moment, I thought”—he released a shaky breath— “you look like her.” He turned around, his attention back on his task.

  Silence.

  It wasn’t the first time my face had stopped our conversations, though it happened more frequently as I grew older. I bit the inside of my lip for a few seconds before drawing in a breath and trying again. “So…I…um…school was fine today. I have to do this proj—”

  “Megan, I’m sorry.” He placed the last plate on the counter and hung the towel on the bar across the oven. “I told the Pattersons I’d help them with their fencing tonight. I’m literally out the door.”

  “Yeah, sure. I get it.”

  Dark circles pressed under his eyes, and he rubbed the back of his neck before running his fingers through his greying brown hair. Time and loss had taken their toll. Wrinkles edged their way out from his eyes and along the downturn of his mouth. They looked deeper than normal in the yellow glow of the kitchen light. His broad shoulders slumped as he shoved his hand in his pocket, the front of his green flannel unbuttoned and hanging open. His white undershirt was stained.

  Huh. Just like us. Stained.

  “I...I gotta go,” he said. He found his keys and headed out. “Food’s in the fridge.” His voice was muffled as he exited.

  I stood in the kitchen, solitude vibrating in my head.

  “I mean, why would you want to listen to stupid high school stuff anyway? I don’t care about it either.” My voice echoed in the cold, empty room. I shuffled to the fridge in search of dinner.

  A casserole dish covered in foil sat on the shelf with a note affixed to the top:

  * * *

  M,

  The chicken potpie is from Mrs. Patterson.

  Microwave on high for a few minutes.

  -D

  * * *

  “Well, at least Mrs. Patterson cares if I eat or not,” I
said, though I knew it wasn’t true. The older woman frequently sent meals over to the house in exchange for Dad’s help around their property. I tore the note off the foil and crumpled it into a tiny ball before tossing it across the room toward the trash bin. It hit the rim and bounced under the cabinet.

  “Whatever. I won’t be around much longer anyhow.” The fire in my veins was gone now, squelched by the deep flood of sadness that took over as I helped myself to the potpie, adding a generous mound to my plate, and setting it in the microwave.

  I sat at the table, my head in my hands, and stared at the plate of food, a shapeless lump spinning on the glass tray under the muted light. I leaned further in, my head heavy, and zoned out to the steady buzz of the machine.

  I blinked hard, pushing the tears away, and focused on my dinner’s repeated circular path over and over and over, always the same, until it was eventually scorched.

  Ironic how my life seemed no different.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, it was business as usual: woke up, threw on whatever clothes were closest, and shoved a piece of toast into my mouth before heading out into crappy weather to a place I couldn’t wait to leave. It was always the same. My to-do list was becoming excruciatingly tedious, but it wouldn’t be much longer. Or at least, I hoped it wouldn’t. Dad’s famous disappearing act last night didn’t help my mood, but what did I expect, really? Although if I was being honest, the real reason for the morning’s grumpiness had less to do with him and more to do with a certain flaky Home Ec partner. Why was I getting so worked up over him?

  The school day dragged by. Most of my classes’ content had been delivered and we’d gotten to the “killing time reviewing for finals” portion of instruction. Great. Dead weeks always seemed to put me in a mood, too. More often than not, teachers became so lax that each period slowly morphed into a social hour. So irritating.

  By the time I slugged myself into sixth period, my jaw was sore from being tightly clenched all day. I was really not looking forward to working with Jay. Why couldn’t I have picked Stuart Kwong?

  As I made my way to my assigned kitchenette and took a seat at a nearby desk, I tried to convince myself that things would be different. Today was a research day, after all. Very minimal teamwork needed. I surveyed the class. Everyone appeared to be buddied up, their attention either on their phones or on one of the class laptops, scouring for recipes. Working together. Hmph.

  My eyes found the empty seat next to me. Well, surprise, surprise. No Jay. I sighed and pulled out my phone. I placed a spiral notebook on my desk and flipped to the first empty page. Typing Simple Three Course Meals into the Google browser on my phone, I attempted to look like I was on-task in the event Ms. O’Dowd came by with questions, and waited for the seven billion hits to pop up while the dark cloud that’d followed me everywhere hung nearby. I rubbed the stiffness in my jaw as the results appeared.

  “Well, you look like you’ve been dragged out back,” Jay said, suddenly standing over me.

  Seriously? I closed my eyes and took a breath before glaring at him.

  “Wow. Thanks. You really know how to greet a person.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” he mumbled. “You just look tired, that’s all. What’s up?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re late.”

  “I had something I needed to do.”

  “Always.”

  He sighed, his shoulders dropping. “So, what did I miss? You pick anything yet?”

  And…right on cue. Great. Why was I not surprised? I knew I’d be stuck doing everything by myself. “We’re supposed to do it together. It’s a partner assignment, remember?”

  “Yeah, but I figured—”

  “What? That I’d do it all for you?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the side. “No. That you’d want to do it by yourself. Like you do everything else.”

  Ouch.

  “And also, you wouldn’t have to worry about me messing it all up.”

  I opened my mouth in rebuttal but stopped. Arguing would get us nowhere, and it wasn’t necessarily not the truth. My eyes darted around the class. Ms. O’Dowd was making her way around the room, and she was dangerously close to being within hearing range.

  “Whatever. Just sit down and try to look like we’re doing something together, would you?” I said, nodding to our approaching teacher.

  “Right.”

  Grabbing a nearby chair, he flipped it around backwards, scooting up close to my left side before sitting in it like some teen movie heartthrob, and looked over my shoulder at my phone screen. I stiffened at the sudden closeness, his arm barely brushing against mine, and I chastised the bajillion butterflies that swarmed in my stomach. Why couldn’t he sit in a chair like a regular person? He leaned in close until his face was about eight inches from mine, the subtle scent of sandalwood rising from his letterman jacket.

  “You gonna scroll?”

  “Huh?” I said, turning my head half an inch and coming face to face with him. I sucked in a breath. The energy coming off him crackled, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of my neck. Had he always had that tiny scar above his left eyebrow?

  “Scroll…” he repeated before leaning across me and swiping my phone screen with his finger.

  I snapped back from wherever I had drifted off to—that was weird—and snatched my phone out of his reach.

  “I got it,” I said as I aggressively swiped screen images with my own finger.

  Ms. O’Dowd walked the length of the classroom until she finally reached us.

  “Looks like you two seem to be getting along,” she commented.

  “Would you expect anything less?” Jay replied.

  Ms. O’Dowd lifted an eyebrow, then nodded. “Keep up the good work. Make sure whatever you choose, you’ll be able to finish it during the allotted time. This final won’t be a cakewalk.” She chuckled to herself.

  I struggled to suppress a groan. Her jokes were so cheesy.

  “Good one, Ms. O...I get it...cakewalk,” Jay said, laughing as she turned and walked to the other side of the classroom still chuckling to herself.

  “You know, every time anyone laughs at her jokes, somewhere in the world, a batch of cookies burns,” I said under my breath.

  He laughed. “Well, they seem to make her happy. Who am I to crush it?”

  My head snapped up and I looked at him, studying his face. He seemed sincere, but why would he care about what made her…or anyone…happy? He was all about himself, wasn’t he?

  The bell rang and I jumped. The period was over? Already?

  “Well, see ya around,” he said, flashing a smile.

  “Wait. What about the project? What are we making?”

  “You have my number. Text me and we can figure it out.” Again, that smile. “Catch ya on the flip-side.”

  Right. Like I’d be clamoring after him like every other girl in the school. Hardly. Still, I couldn’t drag my eyes away as he walked out of the class, his jeans hanging on his hips, his shoulders broad. I tore my gaze away. Text him? We could barely hold a conversation in person. I seriously doubted any other way of communication would be more successful.

  I shoved my notebook in my bag, grumpier than when I arrived. We were no closer to getting this project done than we were fifty minutes ago. I threw my backpack onto my shoulder and stormed out.

  Great. This day just kept getting better and better.

  Winter in Northeast California could be surprisingly cold, and as I walked out into the student parking lot, I was unprepared for the blast of icy wind that hit my face—a sure indicator that snow crept near. As I approached my car, my frozen fingers fumbled with my keys. The lot stood almost empty, though it was hardly unexpected. Who wants to hang out in near freezing temperatures?

  As my fingers continued to search, the scraping of shoes echoed on the asphalt behind me and pulled my attention. Turning, I saw Jay emerge from the side lot next to the gy
mnasium. He was headed into the building carrying one of those oversized gym bags all the jocks had. Of course. Basketball practice. He agilely bounded up the steps, stopping just outside the glass doors to answer his cell phone.

  Again with the phone. He was constantly on it. Even more so than everyone else at school. Which was saying a lot since I’d never gone to school without mine tucked in my pocket, and I didn’t even have a social life. Not that it made much of a difference, but totally rude, in my opinion. I mean, I loved my phone as much as the next person, but man, for the amount of screen time he logged, I would assume he was getting paid for it. I tilted my head. Huh. Maybe he was. Like some sort of TikTok jock influencer or cool kids Insta guru.

  I averted my eyes and tried not to stare as he intently spoke into the phone, completely oblivious to my presence. No such luck. My gaze was like a paperclip on a neodymium magnet; I couldn’t tear it away. Looking at him, it was clear why he was so popular with the girls. Even from where I stood, he was swoon-worthy. He towered at just above six feet but wasn’t one of those high school guys that needed to grow into his height. A three-sport athlete, his toned muscles already balanced out nicely. If I were to wager, there was not one ounce of fat on his entire physique, though most lunch hours revealed his enormous appetite. Not that I was cafeteria-stalking him; he was just hard to miss. It’s not fair that some people can eat fully-loaded chili cheese nachos nearly every day and still be in good shape. He must have one of those freakishly fast metabolisms.

  His wavy chestnut brown hair had naturally light highlights and was striking against the soft warm tawny brown color of his skin. He looked nothing like his father, whom I had seen numerous times at school events and who had blond hair and a fair complexion. What did his mother look like? She must’ve been beautiful to produce such a good-looking child.

  Unfortunately for my curiosity, Jay’s mother was a mystery. When they had moved to Mountain Valley, it was already just the two of them. Jay was in first grade. It wasn’t until we were in middle school that I’d even heard a whisper of what happened. But leave it to the small-town rumor mill to reveal everything a person would rather not tell anyone. And who could blame him; his mother left when he was just a baby. Abandoned him without ever looking back.