It's Like Monopoly, But Physical.

Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty.

I reach my arm over Van and lay it on his bare stomach and let my head rest on his chest. I already feel better. I just need him to hold me, and make if feel like everything else has gone away. Like all of my problems have vanished. And that's exactly what Van does for me.

"Um, Abby?" Van breaks the silence.

Thanks dude, way to ruin the moment by talking. I bring my hand up to his mouth to get him to be quiet. "Shh, I'll go back to hating you tomorrow, just hold me," I whisper and start to feel his arm slip around my shoulder, making me drop my hand.

"You don't have to stay mad at me, you know," Van says.

I nod lightly against his chest, "yes I do."

"Why?"

I yawn against his chest. "Because, if I don't, then that means you win," I mutter sleepily.

In the morning, I wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs. I sit up in the bed and look around, seeing Van laying next to me. This is not how I wanted to wake up. I push the covers off of me and ease out of bed. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that I'm still in his t-shirt. Great, I can't go downstairs like this, what would his family think. I may not like Van at the moment, but I'm not about to have his family think I'm another 'Kendall'.

Sure, the shirt covers everything that needs to be covered, but, it gives off the wrong impression.

Right as I open the bedroom door and step into the hallway and see Mrs. Taylor, holding a laundry basket. What do I say? How do I say it? I'm standing here frozen, not knowing what to say or how to react.

"Hi, Mrs. Taylor," I choke out. "I, um, this isn't what it looks like," I say quickly.

She smiles and says, "It's none of my business. There's breakfast downstairs," she tells me.

I look down at what I'm wearing, or not wearing in my case, then look back at her. "It's okay, it's just me and Van's grandma that's here. So make yourself at home, sweetheart." she says.

I nod, "okay."

I walk downstairs and stumble upon the kitchen, where an older woman is standing over a sizzling pan on the stove. "Um, hi?" I say nicely, trying to get Van's shirt to cover my butt more

The woman looks up, showing her face, wrinkled with age. You wouldn't say too old, maybe sixty-two at the oldest. I can see a lot of Van's mom I her, their hair is about the same color brown, except Van's grandma's hair is more faded.

"You must be Abby," the woman says and I nod slowly, wondering which Taylor told her about me, Van or his mom? "You can call me Greta, Abby. I've heard a lot about you," she says warmly.

I gulp. "You have?"

She nods, smiling a little. "Don't worry, all good things."

I nod and sit down at the small table full up steaming food. I don't even think my mom is capable of making food look this good. Well, my mom's not capable of making anything look good.

"Why do I get a feeling that you aren't always this quiet?" Greta asks.

"I'm not, I just don't really know what to say, considering the situation...you know, between my parents and-"

"Oh, dear, it's not your fault, we'd never take it out on you," she says.

I sigh in relief. Well, that's better, now that I know I'm know they don't think that I'm a horrible person because of the stupid and idiotic things that my supposed 'mother' does.