Hello, I Love You

Hello, I Love You (Chapter Thirteen)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The duo waggled their heads eagerly and I whispered my plan into their ears. Their expressions morphed from hesitance to fascination as they processed my words.

"Are you sure Mommy will approve?" questioned Daylan curiously, scratching her head.

I debated whether or not to tell the truth, and sighed. "Probably not," I admitted, "but it'll be fun."

"Let's go, Day!" Myla persuaded her sister, tugging on her shirt sleeve.

"Quickly," I urged, sensing that Mrs. Reynolds would arrive back here any second. She seemed to have finished ranting to her husband, and was instructing Quentin to assist his father in serving everyone at their table.

Myla and Daylan seized one of their mother's all-natural, sugar free pies each. They snuck behind their mother and slid into the bushes. Their male siblings, too engrossed in Mrs. Reynolds words, hadn't noticed a thing. Perfect.

Mrs. Reynolds concluded her rant shortly and pivoted to trudge back over to the girls' table. In her rage, she didn't realize Myla and Daylan were missing. I smiled sweetly at her as she settled in her seat, still muttering herself - no doubt something about my behavior.

I coughed abnormally loudly, the signal for Daylan and Myla to pursue with what would be a certain showdown in the Reynolds' family history. They hustled out of the bushes, pies in hand, just as Mrs. Reynolds gasped, "Where are my girls?"

Myla tossed her pie onto the table, giggling hysterically, as it landed with a splat. Every single person stared at the pie, dumbfounded, before turning to catch sight of the culprit. Mrs. Reynolds twisted in her seat to view the scene. But they were too late.

Daylan launched her pie into the air. It floated in the air for a few seconds before exploding in the smack-dab center of the table, its ingredients spraying over everyone within two feet of it. The intial shock of it soon wore off, just as quickly as the showdown began.

Wendell was the first target. Elijah, age eleven, grasped a handful of steamed green beans and chucked it at his face. Wendell screeched and toppled over, tumbling onto the grass. Everyone joined in; besides Mrs. and Mr. Reynolds, who were handing out threats here and there, desperately attempting to halt this waste of food. Soon, it became a full-on food fight.

I could only stare at the scene, flabbergasted. I had only expected Myla and Daylan to be scolded for a while, and the incident would be forgotten in a few minutes. Mrs. Reynolds would discover one way or another to blame this on me; surely her flawless children couldn't even dream of such tomfoolery!

A hand suddenly gripped my elbow and yanked it roughly.

"Come on," Quentin muttered, "let's get out of here."

I nodded in agreement and together we fled the scene, disappearing into the front yard. We sauntered down the driveway, ignoring the chaos we were leaving behind us.

"Where are we going?" I inquired, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk. I was going to be grounded forever if Aunt Belle found out about this... which she would.

Quentin shrugged. "I don't know, on a walk I suppose."

After a few minutes, I broke the silence between us. "So tell me," I said lightly, starting conversation, "does Wendell always intrude on your business?"

"Sadly, yes," Quentin sighed, shaking his head warily. "Wendell thinks he has to have the know-how on everything and everybody."

"Oh," I replied lamely, looking at the ground.

We continued along the path in a comfortable, companionable silence. Our hands brushed lightly a few times and I blushed. Every time my hand swung by my side, it collided with Quentin's. He kept a blank expression on his face, but I was soon beginning to believe its repetitiveness wasn't an accident.

This brought back memories of Arden and I kept my arm stiff, not allowing Quentin's hand to touch mine. I didn't want to think of Arden... not now, anyway. Not in any way, shape, or form.

"Now you tell me," Quentin suddenly announced, "what happened between you and Arden?"

I groaned, halting in my tracks and frowning, refraining the urge to turn around and stalk back to the Reynolds. Quentin brought up this subject at the worst of times. But two things were keeping me here: one, I definitely did not wish to see Mrs. Reynolds under any circumstances; two, I just didn't want to abandon Quentin.

Biting my lower lip, I mumbled, "Do we really have to talk about it?"

"Well, I kind of want to know," Quentin confided, grinning sheepishly. I think was the first time I had ever witnessed a timid side to him.

I plopped down on the sidewalk, and Quentin positioned himself beside me. We were far enough away from the Reynolds' home, so I wasn't worried of them finding us any time soon.

I inhaled deeply and gave him a short, revised version about Arden and me. I skillfully left out the parts about Josh, my ability to make a boy fall in love with me, Brittany, and the fact that I may have liked Arden.

In other words, my explanation was basically, "He used me and it made me upset." I felt Quentin's doubtful gaze on me as I refocused my eyes on the sidewalk. "But I'm over it," I tacked on. That, unfortunately, was a total lie and I knew it.

"I know there's more to it, Cora," Quentin whispered. "I can see that it's hurting you, but I won't press for information." He seized my hand and looked me in the eyes. "I think you'll tell me when you feel it's right."

At that moment, I couldn't possibly cast the spell on Quentin on purpose. It would break me inside to know that I forced him to fall in love with me... but I couldn't look away. I blinked once, but our eyes were still locked on each other.

One... two... three...

Quentin smiled wholeheartedly, his gaze only for me. A blush was madly forming on my cheeks.

Four... five... six...

He leaned in and my heartbeat increased rapidly. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly that I'm sure it could be heard from a mile away.

Seven... eight... nine...

"Well, well, well," a voice sneered. Quentin and I jumped apart quickly, just in time. I was breathing heavily, my eyes glaring at the voice's owner.

"Hop off, Wendell," Quentin quipped, scowling at his younger brother who was emerging from behind a bush.

"I knew there was something going on between you two," Wendell countered smugly, grinning from ear to ear. "Wait until Mom finds out."

"There's nothing going on between us!" I insisted, my tone rising. But there could have been, a voice in my head informed me. I shook my head, ridding myself of the thoughts.

"Now if you excuse me," snapped Wendell, grinning evilly, "I'm about to invite a certain cousin of mine over."