Finding Love

Chapter 3



"HE DID WHAT?" Mom exclaimed, turning to face me with a spatula in hand.

"Yep," I said, emphasizing the 'p.'

"And what did you do?" she asked, turning back to the stove.

"I tried talking to them, but they were too drunk. It went nowhere," I sighed. "And the worst part? Emma called herself my best friend while she was under my boyfriend."

"Now that she's finally out of the picture," Mom said, dishing out pancakes, "I can tell you I never liked her."

"Really? You never seemed to have a problem with her," I said, grabbing my fork.

"It's called acting," she said, placing the dish in front of me. "We had just moved, and you grew so attached to her. I went along with it. Now I wish I had said something."

"It's fine," I replied, taking a bite of the chocolate pancake. "This is what we call a learning experience."

"You're not as heartbroken as I expected," she observed, taking a bite from my plate.

"It hurts more when I see them," I admitted, feeling a knot in my stomach at the thought. "But let's not talk about it. I don't want to lose my appetite."

Mom nodded and turned back to clean up the kitchen. Normally, that would be my job, but she must have felt sorry for me. I continued eating, trying to push away the images from Friday night. Instead, I focused on who had dropped me home last night—Leo Haynes.

Leo was popular at school, being the captain of our successful basketball team. Like a teen cliché, the basketball and football teams didn't get along, mainly due to the rivalry between their leaders, Leo and Brandon. The feud started when the basketball team began catching up to the football team's wins. When the school gave Leo an award for his contribution to the basketball team's success, Brandon's ego took a hit, sparking the feud.

Boys are so petty.

Although I talked to some basketball players, Leo giving me a ride last night had surprised me. We were supposed to be 'enemies.' I was grateful and felt I owed him. He saved me from doing something ridiculous, like going back inside to ask for a ride. My thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell.

"I'll get it," I said, heading to the door.

Please don't be Brandon.

"Well, hello there," I said, opening the door to see Leo.

"Hey," he said, his eyes taking in my oversized t-shirt and shorts. He was dressed in a white tank top, shorts, and sneakers.

"What brings you here?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"You left this in my car yesterday," he said, holding up my purse.

"Thank you," I said, taking it from him. "That's it? See you at school," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait," I grabbed his arm, trying not to focus on his muscles. "How did you know where I live?"

"Is it that important?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, it is," I insisted, crossing my arms again. "What if you're my stalker?"

"If I were, you'd never know," he said, mimicking my stance.

"It was just an example," I said, exasperated. "Can't you just tell me?"

"The answer's in your hand," he pointed to the purse. "Maybe you shouldn't write your address on it."

"I didn't write it," I said, flipping over the purse to see my mom's handwriting. "My mom did. Thanks for the heads up."

"Anytime," he grinned. "By the way, you have an interesting gallery in there."

"You saw the pictures, didn't you?" I groaned. Emma had dared me to carry my baby pictures in my purse, and I thought no one would see them.

"You were very cute," he chuckled.

"What do you mean 'were'? I'm still cute," I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

"Sure you are," he rolled his eyes. "I'd love to chat more, but I have practice. I don't want you breaking down in tears over your 'broken ego.'"

"My ego is perfectly fine," I said. "And I want to thank you for last night. I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to," he argued.

"But I will," I insisted. "I love baking, and I'll make you cookies."

"Alright," he said with a sigh. "I love all kinds of cookies. I'll see you Monday morning."

"I'll see you then," I said, smiling as he waved and walked to his car.

"Mom," I called as I walked back into the house. "Why did you write my address on my purse?"

With that, my Saturday took a turn for the better.