"Hey, Honey. I'm home," my mom says as she cracks my door open and peeks her head into my room.
"Hey, Mom," I smile, setting my laptop down on the bed, beside me, and propping myself up on the headboard.
"I brought a few leftovers from the bakery for you and Violet's sleepover," she says cheerfully as she enters my room holding a, Cassie's Corner, box.
"Ugh, I swear you're trying to make me fat," I groan.
"Henley, you're five foot ten with the metabolism of a hummingbird, " she replies, rolling her eyes.
I'm going to take a wild guess and say that hummingbirds have a fast metabolism. My mom knows weird, random facts like that. You just have to nod your head and pretend like you know what she's talking about. Otherwise, she'll explain it to you.
"Alright, what have you got," I ask.
"Let's see," she says, peering into the box. "Two red velvet cupcakes, a vanilla cupcake, a lemon square, and three slices of coffee cake."
"Hm, leave one red velvet and the lemon square," I say. Lemon squares are Violet's favorites.
"Ok, I guess I'll go ask your brother if he wants anything."
"Oh," I exclaim excitedly, suddenly remembering Andrew's and my conversation this morning. "Speaking of Andrew, guess what I learned today?"
"What?" She questions curiously, leaning in closer.
"He's got a girlfriend."
"Really?" She squeals. "Oh my gosh, that is so adorable." She claps her hands over her mouth in excitement.
"I know, her names Kinsey," I smile. "Good luck getting him to talk to you about her, though. You're the lame mom, not the cool older sister." I stick my tongue out at her.
"Well, then. I guess I'll just have to pull out the big guns," she grins mischievously as she pulls one of her famous, triple chocolate cupcakes out of the box.
"You were holding out on me," I gasp, bringing my hand up to my heart.
"Well do you have any information to trade for it?" She questions. "A secret boyfriend?"
"No, " I grumble, crossing my arms childishly. "This is bad parenting."
"No honey, this is bribery, the thing that has been holding families together since the beginning of time," she says slyly before strutting out of the room, ready to go get all the gossip on what I'm sure is the juiciest relationship in all of Berkley Middle school.
I stare at my red velvet cupcake in dismay and let out a heavy sigh.
Oh well.
"I'm here," I comes a sudden scream from downstairs. This is basically Violet's alternate to our door bell. She knows where we keep the key and claims that we take too long to answer our door, which in all honesty is probably true.
Not even twenty seconds later she comes frantically crashing into my room, completely out of breath, and without a single snack in hand.
"Where's the food?" I ask.
"There was no time," she yells, wide-eyed.
"Why?" What happened?" I ask, siting up straighter in bed, growing slightly concerned by her unhinged behavior.
"He was asking about you."
I scrunch up my face in confusion.
"What?"
"Rhett," she screams dramatically. "He was asking everyone about you. And then he came up to me and said that people said that I was your best friend. Then I said yes, I'm her best friend, and he asked what your deal was. Then I said, what do you mean what's her deal? And he said, she's something else. So I said, something else good or something else bad? Then he laughed and said good, definitely good, and oh my gosh he's in love with you," she says all in one breath.
"That's why you couldn't bring snacks?" I ask, not really understanding the big deal.
"Oh my gosh, you don't even care," she shouts before proceeding to hold her hand to her forehead dramatically and fall backwards onto my bed.
Drama queen much?
"Alright, alright. I'm listening, what else did he say?"
She quickly pops back up, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"He asked me all these questions like why everyone says you're shy and whether or not you're mad at him," she wiggles her eyebrows.
My stomach does a little flip when she says this, which surprises me.
No stomach, bad stomach, I tell myself sternly.
"Vi, that doesn't mean he's in love with me," I say.
"No, but it does mean he likes you. Even you can't deny that."
"Maybe he wants to be friends," I suggest.
"Ugg, Henley Elizabeth Baker, you are hopeless," she complains, exasperatedly.
"Whatever," I grin. "Did we win the game?" I ask in an attempt to try and get away from this conversation.
"Yes, of course, we won the game. It was against Argyle. We could beat them in our sleep," she replies in a bored tone.
Ok, so that didn't work.
"What do you wanna watch?" I ask while walking over to my collection of DVDs.
"Henley, come on. Talk to me. Aren't you at least a little bit curious?"
"Why is this so important to you?" I sigh.
"Because," she starts before pausing, trying to find the right words. "You're my best friend and I want you to be happy. And Ben makes me so happy. I just...I don't know. I want you to open up to someone else besides me. You're kind of awesome you know."
"Ya, I know," I tease.
She rolls her eyes at me but smiles slightly.
"Look, Vi, I am happy. I don't need some stupid boy for that. What you and Ben have is great and I hope to have that with someone someday. Just not right now, and certainly not with Rhett."
"Fine," she mutters quietly with a half-smile.
"Good," I say. "Now, which do you wanna watch? The Winter Soldier or Iron Man?" I ask while handing her the lemon square.
"Maybe I will keep you after all."
***********
Saturdays I always work at the bakery. My mom and Dad decided that it would be good for me and kind of forced me into it. I don't really mind, though. It's sort of fun. Most of the time Violet comes and works a shift too, but today she has a volleyball tournament.
On top of Violet being missing, I've also been assigned different task than usual.
I usually just help out in the kitchen and count inventory. But today, because the lady who normally runs it is out sick, I'm stuck working the cash register.
It's not that bad seeing as how the only customers to come in today were a group of nice, elderly ladies who were picking up a cake for one of the girls in their knitting clubs eightieth birthday. However, I'd still prefer to be back in the kitchen, sorting through ingredients with Violet, than be out here by myself.
I'm sitting quietly on a tall, wooden stool directly behind the counter, and reading a book when he comes in.
"Hey cupcake," he says in what I'm coming to realize is his characteristic, overconfident tone.
"Cupcake. Clever," I say, tearing my eyes off of my book and moving them up to meet his.
"I thought so too," he smirks.
"This is borderline stalkerish, you do know that right?" I ask, putting my book down and hoping off my stool.
"Now, wait a minute. Why do you think that I came here for you? I didn't even know you worked here," he says with faux hurt. He almost sounds serious but his stupid smirk gives him away.
"Violet told me you were asking people about me at the game."
He laughs and pretends like this doesn't embarrass him, but his face turns a few shades pinker, and his hands move up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably.
"I guess I wasn't exactly subtle," he says with a slight wince.
I chuckle and shake my head, no.
"Well, Henley Baker. If you must know, I am quite intrigued by you."
"Oh really?"
"Really. You throw yourself in the middle of a fight to stop some asshole you obviously don't even like from getting pummeled. You're super funny and confident, and friends with one of the most popular girls in school. However, everyone seems to think your mute or something."
I'm a bit taken aback by this. That was quite the little speech he just gave.
"You've done your research."
"Yes I have," he grins. "I was on a mission to figure you out."
"And did you?" question.
"Not quite. For that I'm going to have to get some information from the source herself."
I scoff.
"However, I did figure out one thing."
"Do tell."
"You're scared," he says, inching closer to the counter.
"Scared?" I question.
"Mhm, I don't know exactly what it is you're scared of. You don't seem like somebody who really cares about what people think of you, yet you're living life in your own little bubble, a comfort zone."
"I am not," I argue defensively. Where does he get off telling me who I am? A few chats with some gossipy teenagers and suddenly he's an expert on me?
"Prove it," he challenges.
"How the hell do you want me to do that?" I bark. Gosh, he's infuriating.
"Let's make a bet," he says calmly.
"A bet?" I snap. "What kind of bet?"
"For the rest of the semester you start saying yes more often," he starts.
"Saying yes more often?" I question, unsure of what that's supposed to mean and how it's supposed to prove that I'm not scared of the unseen, menacing factor the Rhett seems to think is holding me back.
"I''ll ask you to go do certain normal, teenage, out of your comfort zone things, and don't worry, they'll be reasonable. And all you have to do is say yes. Unless you're scared that is?" He says, raising his eyebrows up on the last part, as if to challenge me.
"And if I don't do one of these things?"
"Then you lose and you have to kiss me," he smirks.
"Whats up with this desperate need for a kiss?" I groan. "You do realize that almost every other girl in our school is dying to kiss you right?"
"Yes, but since you seem to find the idea so repulsive, I thought it would be a good incentive," he says, sounding slightly bitter.
"What if I win?"
"If you win then I'll admit I was wrong, and if you want me to, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the year."
"That's not a very good prize," I say bluntly.
"I thought you would have jumped for joy at the idea of getting rid of me," he laughs.
"You'll get bored sooner or later," I shrug.
"I highly doubt that," he chuckles. "But even if that was the case, would it really be so bad to put yourself out there a little? After all, this is your senior year."
"No, Rhett, I don't think so," I shake my head.
"Ok, that's fine," he shrugs nonchalantly, taking me aback. I expected him to put up way more of a fight than that.
I eye him suspiciously, waiting for the twist.
"But you should know I can be pretty persistent."
There it is, I think to myself as I snort and shake my head at him and his games.
"I'll just ask you the next time I see you, and the next time, and the...," he chants obnoxiously until I cut him off.
"Ok, ok. I get it. We have merely scraped the surface of how annoying you can be."
"Come on Sweet Pea. I'll even ok everything with that friend of yours beforehand.What do you say?"
Should I do it? He says he'll check the list with Violet so whatever he has planned can't be that bad. Plus, he might be right about my need to expand my horizons a bit. And proving that smug, little bastard wrong would be nice.
"Alright," I sigh.
"Really?" He asks, eyes lighting up with excitement.
"Yes really," I nod, knowing in the back of my head that I'm probably making a huge mistake.
"Ok, we'll start tonight."
"Tonight?" I question loudly.
"Tonight," he repeats. "Wear something nice, we're going to a party."
"I thought you had to check the list with Violet first?" I ask, feeling very frazzled all of the sudden. A party?
"Come on Babe, it's just a party. Most kids our age go to those for fun."
"Fine," I groan.
"Great, I'll pick you up at nine."
"Ten," I counter.
"Fine, I'll pick you up at ten," he sighs.
"I can drive myself," I mutter.
"Nope, I'm driving," he says with finality in his tone.
"Whatever," I mutter, just ready for him to leave already. "Here's my address." I pull out a receipt from one of the drawers and scribble it down.
"Thanks," he says, quickly plucking it out of my hands as if afraid I might change my mind and yank it away.
"Ya, ya, just leave. You're giving me a headache."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks.
I look at him confused.
"You are working right now, are you not?"
I stare at him for a solid fifteen seconds, before it finally dawns on me.
"Do you want something?" I ask, the aggravation clear in voice.
"There you go,"he mumbles while scanning the display case."What's your favorite?" He asks.
I point over to the triple chocolate cupcakes.
"Ok. One of those please," he says cheerfully.
I quickly pull it out of the case and package it into the small, to go box before reaching across the counter and handing it to him.
"Here you go."
"Thanks babe," he says, sliding me the money.
"Now get out."
"Now that's no way to talk to a customer is it?"
"Out," I reply sternly.
"Alright. I'm leaving. Geez," he says, putting his hands up in surrender.
He's almost out of the door when he turns around, giving me one last glance.
"You don't think I can do it. Do you?" he asks.
"Do what?"
"Figure you out."
"I don't know," I mutter."Apparently I'm quite the conundrum."
He smiles and continues looking at me like the little, creepy creeper he is.
I give him a "what the hell are you staring at" look and he chuckles to himself before leaving.
Finally.
"Hey, Mom," I yell back into the kitchen.
"Yes?"
"I'm going to have to leave a little early."
A few seconds later she comes walking out of the kitchen, flour smeared on her forehead, wiping her hands with a cloth.
"Why?" She asks.
"I have to go to a party," I sigh.
******************
Hey guys! This chapter is a little shorter than most will be, but I felt that this was the right place to end it. I hope you enjoyed it!
So at the present time literally no one is reading my book. These little authors notes are basically just me talking to myself. However, if in the future some one does in fact read this, then please like, comment, and vote!
Have a great day!