TANGLED PLANS

1

I do not think there is a single word out there to describe me. I do not have any interests that are interesting enough for me to call them a hobby. I'm not good at school to the point where I would be recognized as such.

I'm a person who slips through the cracks and tries to stay hidden. It was better that way; causing attention to myself is not one of my wishes.

Which is why staring at a guy as he talks to the rest of the football players is okay. He wouldn't notice me from that far away, and even if he did, he wouldn't know why I was so fascinated with him. I didn't know either.

I don't really know why I haven't been able to ignore my feelings for him for the last few years. I mean, he didn't even like me that way, and yet I still stared at him as if he would turn around and give me his stellar grins that meant something other than the title I'm known for.

There he goes.

He turns around from the crowd, and when his eyes meet mine, I look away, but not before noticing the huge grin on his face. He always smiled with all of his teeth. I mean, they were pretty nice teeth, and if I had spent that much time wearing braces, I would smile like that as well. I look down at my notebook, and I'm doodling all over when I feel his presence.

Or rather, see it.

There is a shadow that falls over my notebook from his proximity to me. "Daise," he says, and when I look up, he still has a grin on his face. I tuck the unruly piece of hair away from my face and behind my ears. I should put on earrings before my peircings close in on themselves.

"Hi, Max," I say to him softly, feeling a blush appear on my skin. I hoped that he would believe that it's from the sun instead of the fact that he was talking to me. I needed to get used to this; after all, he was around me more than we could count.

He smiles wider at my greeting and drops a flower on the table next to my notebook. I slip my finger underneath it and try not to grin even further. "Are you okay?" he asks me, as he always does. I've wanted the flower to mean something entirely different than what it does. The white flower with a yellow middle was something he gave me every day after my mom had passed away.

She had passed away this summer, and ever since, he has kept giving me a flower a day and asking me if I was okay, as if the answer would be different. It's not. I'm fine. Fine is a subjective term that doesn't mean much, but that's the only word I could use that would describe how I feel. I'm fine.

He takes my non answer as an answer and gives me a sad smile. I hated it when he smiled that way with me after mentioning this topic. It wasn't fun, and I definitely didn't want to dwell on it. He moves on, though thankfully, and asks, "Hey, did you see your brother?"

The only reason he was here in front of me. Maybe the flower was a reason, but ultimately it was to ask me about my brother's whereabouts. He was only in my life for that sole reason.

Even though I have talked to him on so many other occasions, I still stammer through my response. "Brayden, well, he is probably out back."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he answers automatically, and the nickname he has been using for me ever since highschool makes my cheeks heat up still. He gives me a wave and then heads over to the exit of the lunchroom. I clutch my notebook closer to me and curse at myself for being such a loser.

I didn't know how I felt about Max. I didn't know if I actually liked him or if it was just a natural reaction to a hot guy. Max was hot. That's a low term. He was good-looking, with a fluffy full head of brown hair and eyes that matched. Even though his eyes were dark, it seemed that there was always a lightness to them. It seemed that they were lighter than they actually were.

His face made my cheeks heat up whenever our eyes met because there was no way I could be caught looking at such a good-looking face. He had a straight nose and thin lips that were always pulled up at the corners. His lips were dangerous to look at because there was always a smug look to them. Not when he is looking at me; no, Max's lips were never smug looking when he was looking at me. He only reserved that for his normal interactions.

My personal obsession with him was his dimples, which immediately made my hands sweat. Which explains why it was hard for me to grip my pen in order to draw now. And he was tall. Maybe not too tall, but whenever we passed by each other, it seemed that I was so much shorter compared to him.

I shake the image of him out of my mind and focus on the doodles I have been doing. I'm not sure what is wrong with me; there are other people around at this table who I can talk to. There weren't mean people; they were nice ones that greeted me by name every day before I sat down. I can only manage a wave at them in response because my tongue is stuck on the roof of my mouth.

I haven't had the courage to speak to anyone these days. I'm not sure how it will be. I'm not sure what I would even talk about, and then the unknown scared me. If I kept to myself, nothing would be able to scare me. Being alone wasn't as scary as people made it out to be. It was actually pretty comforting.

🌼

"Hey, Daisy," my brother says to me as soon as he enters the house later that day. I got here earlier than him and have been spending my time staring at a reality dating show on television. I didn't have to look at my older brother to know that he had turned his nose up at my choice of entertainment. He didn't like that I watched shows as boring as them.

My brother takes his shoe off as he speaks. "How many times have I told you to stop walking home, Daise?"

I roll my eyes at him and shrug. I hear his sigh even though he is far away from me, and I turn to him. He was being dramatic. He has a frown on his face when he says, "You can't walk home alone."

I pick up one side of my shoulder and drop it. "I wasn't alone. There were others; you know, a few people live on this street."

Brayden still frowns when he says, "I have a car, Daisy. I'll drive us home."

I looked away from him because I knew that. I just didn't want to come home with my brother because, more often than not, his best friend joined him, and the thought of spending time in the backseat while they spoke together in the front was terrible. Not because I wouldn't like it, but because I would. I have sat in the back, and every time his friend spoke, it made my body warm up.

I didn't know what it was. For some reason, my senses were heightened when I was around Max, and it wasn't comfortable. I didn't like squirming around him, but I did, so I kept my distance.

"Tomorrow you have to come with the car," he tells me, and I shake my head at him. He groans as he takes a seat beside me on the couch, and I move over to give him space. "Daisy, you're so young, I'm not letting you walk home by yourself."

"One," I tell him as I turn toward him and put a finger up. "I'm not coming home alone, and I'm barely younger than you."

"You are," he says, and then gives me a big grin. "You're my younger sister, Daisy. There is no way I will let you walk home."

I roll my eyes at him, and he looks at me with matching blue eyes. He shakes his head, but I say, "Brayden, I'm only ten months younger than you. Stop treating me like a kid."

"As long as you are younger than me, then I will," he says, and I'm about to argue with him when he leans forward and plops a kiss on my head. "I'm heading up there. Stop watching your reality shows and find something good."

I shake my head as he stands up and heads toward the staircase to his room. Before he disappears, he shouts, "Tell dad to make an extra plate; Max will be here later tonight."

When is he not here at our house? The thought is both exciting and torturous.