Seeing a lack of argument in my eyes, my mom asks, “If you’re hoping to be more than Melody’s friend, why did you let her leave here yesterday believing you can’t feel the chemistry between you two?”
After taking a mental note to check my room for surveillance devices, I reply, “She didn’t ask about chemistry. She asked if I knew the reason she didn’t give Connor her number.”
Humor floods my mom’s eyes, but she keeps her laughter contained. I can’t say the same for Joey. He’s laughing so hard, the spikes in the ECG printout are higher than they were when I entered his room.
“BJ. Honey. Brandon.”
Three names? Jesus. Did I kill Madden yesterday as hoped and repress the memory?
“A girl only ever tells a guy she was hit on when it’s to the guy she wants to hit on her.”
Huh? Is she speaking English?
Recognizing that I’m struggling, Joey simplifies it for me as only a fellow teenager can. “Do you like Melody as more than a friend?”
After checking the coast is clear of the spying eyes of my enemies, I bob my chin.
“And she invited you to get milkshakes while squeezing your hand?” Mom asks, jumping back into the conversation.
I once again nod.
“Then, you’re talking to the wrong blonde.”
Joey nudges his head to his partially cracked open bedroom window. My heart launches into my throat when I spot Melody leading her horse, Socks, out of the barn on the edge of her property. Even being around animals most of her life and owning Socks for over five years, she’s still scared shitless of horses, so I’m not only surprised she’s taking him for a walk around the property lines alone, I’m also stunned to discover Socks is saddled-up.
While working through the oddity of Melody trying something new, the answer to her question yesterday smacks into me hard and fast. She didn’t give Connor her number because she doesn’t want to date him.
She wants to date me. I think.
Realizing there’s only one way to prove my theory, I press a hurried kiss to my mom’s cheek before hightailing out of Joey’s room. Joey encourages the ludicrous thoughts in my head by wolf-whistling and catcalling like he’s at one of his old football games.
I’ve galloped halfway down the stairs when I realize my bravery today might not end as rainbow-filled as I’m hoping. I doubt I’ll get freshly baked cookies after this stunt. I may not even make it to this afternoon alive.
Lucky the reward will be worth the sacrifice.
“Hey, Mom…” When her head pops out of Joey’s room, I take a moment to relish her huge grin before saying, “If Mr. Gregg kills me, can you and Joey go through my things? I don’t want Madden or Phoenix in my room.”
Instead of assessing why keeping two of my brothers out of my room is more detrimental than my safety, my mom nods. She’s good like that. Forever liberal.
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best!”
She mumbles something in reply, but since my blood is pumping through my body as fast as my legs are thumping the glossed floorboards of the living room, I miss her response.
With my heart in my throat and my pulse sky-high, I charge through the kitchen, out the back patio, then across the land separating my family home from my best friend’s. The smile on my face makes it seem as if I’m not about to place twelve years of friendship on the line because a teen much wiser than his years and my mom are hopeless romantics.
During the short trip, I tell myself on repeat that my conversation with my mom and Joey is the sole reason I’m taking a life-changing risk, but if I were honest, I’d admit snippets of Madden’s conversation yesterday featured in my summary. He mentioned the squeezing hand thing long before Joey, and he saw the chemistry between Melody and me enough to believe we were more than friends, so I guess it’s only fair he gets a tiny mention in the story I plan to tell my grandchildren one day.
The excitement slicking my skin with sweat tapers when I round the corner of the barn I saw Melody leading Socks from. My heart is still racing a million miles an hour. Its frantic pace just isn’t compliments of exhilaration, it’s galloping with jealousy. Hot, sick jealousy.
Melody isn’t alone. She’s with Connor—the motivator of our first ever argument. He’s showing Melody how to lead Socks around the round yard, having no clue she’d rather eat moldy pizza than place her hand within an inch of Socks’ mouth. The fact Connor places Socks on his left shows he’s familiar with horses, so Melody’s safety isn’t compromised, but I’m still opposed to the idea he’s here.
Mr. Gregg doesn’t let anyone get close to Melody—anyone but me.
Since the round yard is rarely used, grass has grown up the rusty steel material like a vine creeps up lattice, but unfortunately, it’s nowhere near tall enough to hide the shocking event that occurs next. With the assistance of Connor, Melody attempts to mount Socks. It takes her three goes and a heap of encouragement from a man not worthy of her time, but Melody achieves something I’ve been working her toward for years without me.
That sucks.
I’m proud of her, and the beaming smile stretched across her face plays on my heartstrings, but it still guts me in a way I can’t explain. I worked my ass off for years to gain her trust, however, it seems as if the only thing needed is a rigidly hard face and an un-wonky smile—two things I don’t have.
