It's Like Love, But On a Post-It. (Undergoing Severe Plastic Surgery )

Chapter Fourteen.

"Van!" I whisper-yell, in attempt to find him. Just as soon as I turn around a corner, I see Van looking at a black racecar bed. Of course... "Van, what are you doing?" I demand.

Van looks up, innocently. "It looks like the bat-mobile, Abby!"

I roll my eyes. "Oh my gosh..." I mutter under my breath.

"I'm seriously considering this bed," he tells me.

"Good luck getting girls into that," I tease.

Van shrugs his shoulders. "Bet I could get you into it," he jokes, winking at me. "I practically got you into that Batman shirt."

"You can barely get me into my bed, Van," I point out. "Come on, we have to go pay for the mattress," I say, trying to change the topic.

Van finally follows me to the register, but he practically sulks the whole way there, like a little kid would do if he didn't get his way. He pays for the mattress with the credit card that his dad gave him.

A couple of big, strong guys help Van carry the mattress out to his truck. I would offer to help, but I would most likely just get in the way. Besides, I'm having too much fun watching Van act like Mr. Muscles.

When the guys are done, the cashier girl comes running out with a slip of paper.

"Sorry, I forgot to give you the receipt," she says, apologetically.

Van opens the passenger door, urging me to get in.

What is with him? He's been opening doors for me left and right today. I liked it a lot better when I was the main driver because I was the only one with a car.

"I guess chivalry isn't dead," the girl giggles. "He's a keeper," she says to me.

I glance at Van and see him grinning like the idiot he is. "He's my brother," I quickly blurt, nudging him in the gut.

"Oh," she says, surprised.

"Yep, this is my little sister," Van plays along, messing up my hair before walking over to her, collecting the slip of paper. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and messes around with it for a couple seconds then signs the little slip. To my surprise, Van picks up the girls hand and takes out a sharpie from his pants pocket, then proceeds to scribble something on her palm. "Give me a call sometime," Van tells her.

Van's back is to me, but I can guarantee that he's giving her his best smile, the one that makes you melt like butter on a hot pan.

I go ahead and get in his truck and shut the door loudly. Maybe I should stop egging him on. I know that he's doing it just to be a jerk. But maybe I'm doing the things that I am, just to be a bitch.

A little later we're back at my house, or our house now I guess, since Van and his dad have officially claimed territory yesterday. Van didn't really think about how we were going to get the mattress into the house because nobody's home to help. Go figure. We moved more people in, and there still is never anybody home.

"Maybe we could just do it," Van suggests, pulling down the door to the bed of his truck.

"Are you kidding me? I can't lift that," I point out.

Van starts pulling on it, scooting it closer to the edge. "Superman could," he mocks, purposely pushing my buttons.

I step closer, pushing him over so I can grab an end of the bed. We manage to get it onto the ground, standing up on it's sides. "Maybe we should call somebody to help," I say.

"You can do it, put your ass into it," Van winks.

"Shut up," I say, laughing.

Van and I get it through the front door after twenty minutes. I can't manage to carry it for longer than three steps before my arms want to collapse and Van takes every chance he gets to make fun of me.