“Y-your date? Harriet, do your parents know?” The intruder asks.
And this makes me turn, and suddenly I’m glaring at Margaret’s future mother-in-law.
Merrick’s mom.
Ms. Alicia.
She’s wearing Lululemon leggings, a sports tank, and running shoes. Two ladies dressed just like her watch us from a few feet away.
All at once, I’m so disappointed.
Because I love Merrick. So much.
And I want to love the people he loves.
But his mom just derailed the best kiss I’ll probably ever have in my life, made me put that look on Beck’s face like… like I just broke his heart, AND she asked me a question that’s NONE of her business.
Plus, I don’t want to answer it.
“Ms. Alicia.” I say her name like it tastes bad. But then I clamp my mouth shut. Because Margaret and Merrick are getting married in just one month.
And I’ve already ruptured peace in the family with my cranky old twat declaration.
But Merrick’s mom just asked me—in front of Beck—if my parents know I’m on a date.
Just like that, anger and humiliation roil like lava under my skin. And since they have nowhere to go, stupid tears prick my eyes.
This is going to ruin everything.
And with that thought, anger and humiliation take a back seat to a gut-walloping sadness like I’ve never known. Because Beck will never want to see me again after this.
I don’t stand a chance. Fighting the wave does nothing.
I go from glaring to sobbing in one breath. I squeeze my eyes shut, but not before I see the startled looks on Ms. Alicia and her friends’ faces.
Oh, God. No.
I try to hold my breath to suffocate all these feelings, but it’s like trying to suffocate a hurricane. Clamping my mouth shut against the sobs only makes snot come out of my nose because my chest won’t stop heaving.
People are staring.
I cover my face with my hands.
Why? Why can we feel the need to turn to ash and blow away and not be able to do it?
“Harriet,” Ms. Alicia is hovering by my chair. When she puts a hand on my shoulder, I slap it away with a yawp of protest.
“D-don’t… t-touch me…”
“I’m so sorry, I—should I call Margaret?”
What the hell?! What is happening?
“No! J-just go away!”
I feel Beck stand, and I want to throw out a hand to stop him. To wail, Not you! But, of course, he wants to go. Walk away and forget the weirdest date of his life. I can’t beg him to stay.
“Ma’am, I’m Beck Olivier, Hattie’s friend,” Beck says in a voice that sounds almost calm. Almost. “Who are you?”
