Side Note: I Think I Love You (Side Notes Book 1)

Chapter 15 - Attie

"Hey, can we pick up Amy from her place?" I ask Jason as I grab the last piece of bacon from his plate. Granted, it's a little dry because he air-fried leftovers but it's still good.

Jason glares at me for taking his food. "Why are you still here? I thought you left a while ago."

I shake his head. "And leave you all alone? Never."

"Booo." He holds out his fist, which showcases a thumbs down.

I smile in triumph.

"What happened to your boyfriend?" He grumbles. "Couldn't he drive you?"

"Nope." Ian had texted me last night about that same thing. Like all the other sports our school has to offer, the varsity football team has practice both before and after school. "My boyfriend didn't want to have to force me to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn just so he could give me a ride." Which was honestly nice of him.

"I'd rather he did. I almost never get the car to myself."

"That's too bad." I fill up a glass of water for myself and take a seat across the table from my brother. "Do you think we'll have time to stop by Groovy Smoothie?"

He shakes his head. "If we're going to pick up Amy, then no. It's in the opposite direction from school."

Drat. Amy lives closer to school so unless we want to be late, then we can't. "After school?" I take a sip from the cup.

He nods. "Deal."

Groovy Smoothie is this seventies-themed chain smoothie stop that can easily rival Jamba Juice. The smoothies are healthier, taste better, and the place is bigger inside than out. There's tables and since we live close to a pretty big university, a lot of college kids (high schoolers too) would go there just to sit down and study. It's been our favorite place since the first one opened up not far from the beach when Jason and I were ten.

Jason stands up with his empty plate. "Let's go."

It doesn't take long for either of us to head out to the driveway, where our beautiful Jeep (I wanted to name her but Jason argued against it) sits in the bright sun of 7:45 AM. I enter the passenger's seat while Jason makes himself comfortable in the driver's seat. With the Beatles playing in the background, we head off in the direction of Amy's house and school.

"Are we not picking up Kelly?" I ask. With the exception of me and Ian, it seems normal to pick up your significant other and take them to school. Then again, I've never been in a serious relationship myself.

He shakes his head. "Her parents don't know about me."

I turn to him in surprise. "What?"

He shrugs. "She's technically not allowed to date."

But he's doing it anyway. Either he really likes this girl or Kelly's not as innocent as she appears.

"Hypocrite," I mutter, pinching his right shoulder. "And you criticized me for not hitching a ride with Ian."

"Sorry." He rolls his eyes, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "But at least he's not under the bleachers, getting high off his ass." Then, his eyes widen.

He wasn't supposed to say that out loud. I figured, because I knew what—or rather, who—he's referring to, so I keep my mouth shut. I can't argue with him. I've never seen Ian drink or do any other drugs but I can't say the same for myself. But I don't want to think about it. I was a sophomore who didn't know better. At least I'm trying.

If pretending to date Derek's brother means trying, then I'll take it.

I just want to wait for Amy to get out of her house. I know she's a hardcore morning person so there's no way in hell she's not awake. In fact, her text she sent me this morning woke me up five minutes before my alarm. Jason parks the Jeep in the Pierce driveway and after two minutes, Amy walks out her front door, holding what could look like a cup of hot coffee to the average person. I happen to know it's her iced chai latte with brown sugar oat milk creamer that she makes every morning, without fail. Amy doesn't drink coffee. Like Jason, she can't stand that stuff.

Amateurs, am I right?

Amy enters the backseat, a little surprised to see me. "At-Bat? What are you doing here?"

Right. That text from this morning? It was for me to pass to Jason since he never answers his texts.

"Not that I'm happy you're sitting here," she says after entering the car and buckling herself in. "I just don't get why Jason's driving. Should I hold onto something? I should call Dad and tell him I won't make it today."

Jason glares at Amy from the rearview mirror. "Nice to know you have faith in my driving skills, you yapping Yorkshire."

"Lack thereof seems more accurate."

I snicker. I'm kind of glad Ian couldn't drive me to school because it gives me some good road entertainment.

"Nice alliteration," I say, holding my hand up for a high five. Jason smacks it.

"Seriously, Athena? Not taking my side?" Amy gasps for dramatic flair.

I shrug with a smirk. "He's my brother, Amy."

We eventually make it to the student parking lot with twenty minutes to spare. Usually, it gets hard to find parking at this time but when your twin brother's driving skills consist of cutting people off and making other drivers angry, then it's not so bad. I sometimes pray that I wasn't so nice when driving but I can't help it—anxiety gets the best of me.

Which is a bad thing when you live in California with a driver's license.

Jason, Amy, and I part ways, since all of us are headed somewhere different. Jason's probably going to meet his girlfriend at her locker, Amy's headed to her dad's office (like she does everyday) and I'm going to my locker to empty out my backpack.

Except when I get to my locker, Ian is standing right next to it. He's looking down at his phone, not noticing that I made it.

"Sleep well, princess?"

I guess he did notice.

"Yeah," I answer while entering the combination. A little tired, sure, but I slept better than most days. I think it had something to do with knowing that I finished Andy's birthday gift and can mail it. Albeit, two weeks late.

Once I open the door, I'm greeted with a black blob with eight legs, hanging on a string, and my heart jumps in fear. "Shit!" I gasp, jumping back from my locker. But a second glance is enough to tell me that the spider hanging inside my locker is fake.

That can only mean one thing. "Oh. My. God."

But how?