Not That Girl

Chapter 8

NEW COVER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!  Got sick of the old one so I whipped this one up.

Quarantine is good for writing but bad for my sanity. I think almost all of my chapters are between 1000-1500 words and I think thats a bit on the shorter side so maybe I'll go back and beef them up a bit. Anyways, here's another chapter, hope you enjoy!

I'm halfway through my calculus homework when I hear the front door open. A figure holding two shopping bags walks in.

"Most people knock," I call. Nova has rushed from her place on the couch towards the intruder, greeting him with a series of excited yips. She would be a terrible guard dog.

"Most people lock their doors," Warren replies. When I look up from my equations, he's pulling a jug of milk out of a shopping bag and putting it in the fridge.

"Are you planning on making me ice cream? Cause I don't think I can wait."

"Nah, just had to pick up some stuff for my mom." He finishes emptying one bag then pulls an icy tub of creamy deliciousness.

"Gimme!" I reach out to grab to grab it but he catches on.

"Nope." He tugs it back before I can get my chubby little fingers on it, then gestures towards the abandoned work in front of me. "Finish that question first."

I give him my most sad pout but he just shakes his head. "Okay, Dad."

"Actually I prefer Daddy."

"In your dreams," I scoff.

"You know it, babe."

I make sure he can see me rolling my eyes and then get back to work. He takes the seat across from me at the table and waits. I'm looking down at the page in front of me but I feel his beady little eyes watching me.

"You know," I look up at him. "I can't focus when you do that."

"Do you want your ice cream or not?"

I grumble in response before resuming my work. The problem turns out to be relatively easy and once I finish, I hold it up so he can judge me.

"You forgot a negative sign."

I quickly make the correction before slamming my textbook closed (maybe a little too dramatically). He slides the tub into the center and gets up to grab spoons.

"Get three," I say, already peeling off the plastic to reveal the untouched surface. "Peyton's on her way."

As if on cue (she really is a theatre kid), Peyton walks through the front door and the welcoming committee (AKA Nova) announces her arrival.

"Aggie!" she yells. "This thing is trying to eat me!"

Warren and I laugh as she makes her way into the kitchen, Nova right at her heels. Warren passes her a spoon and scoops Nova up and sits back down with her in his lap.

Peyton takes the seat next to me, drags the carton towards her and digs right into the middle. "Okay, spill."

Once we've all stuck our spoons into the tub I start to talk about my excursion with Brayden. I tell them about how he overheard Warren and I in the hallway and saw Gen at the store where he bought me ice cream.

"I knew it was a date!" Peyton interrupts.

"He insisted!" I reach towards the tub. If I'm going to get through this, I need to be medicated and cookie dough is the best prescription. "I tried to pay him back but he said I can just get it next time."

I dig around before I find a bite with a substantial chunk of cookie dough. When I look up from my search I'm greeted with silence and two pairs of eyes staring at me.

"What?"

"Sweetie," Peyton sighs. "I love you but you're dumb as hell."

"Hey!"

"She's right," Warren says. "Also, you have a problem. You shouldn't be eating ice cream twice a day."

He reaches out to take away my precious frozen baby but I wrap my arms around it.

"You guys are mean."

"Maybe," Peyton counters. "But we're right. That boy likes you."

Haha, funny joke. The thing is: boys don't like me. I mean, the closest I've ever gotten to a relationship was when Jack Matthews flirted with me so he could copy my math homework in freshman year.

"Aggie's getting you a friend," Warren coos to Nova. "He's a golden retriever but you should get along just fine."

Nova just wags her tail in response. Damnit, you're supposed to be on my side, traitor.

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Like," Warren elaborates. "He is literally what a golden retriever would look like as a human. He's nice, non-threatening and seems like the most vanilla guy there is."

Shit, he did order vanilla, didn't he?

"He's like If Captain America was in The Brady Bunch," Warren continues. "He plays football, drives a truck and probably calls anyone older than him 'ma'am' or 'sir'.

The Brady Bunch! That must have been why I thought he looked like a Brady. Maybe Warren is right after all...

"How do you know so much about him?" I ask. "I didn't even know he existed until yesterday."

"Yet you got into his car?" Peyton counters. She did have a point.

"He just looks trustworthy," I shrug..

"Like a Golden Retriever!" Warren says, a bit too loudly causing Nova to jump off his lap.

"Who's a golden retriever?" A new voice asks from the entryway. Olivia's typically not home by now, she must have finished early at the hospital.

"No one!" I say before Peyton or Warren can reveal anything. Olivia is a direct line to my dad and I do not need him to know about any of this.

Olivia raises an eyebrow but quickly lets it go, probably because she can sense the dread in my eyes concerning the possibility of us talking about my love life (or lack there of).

"Are you two staying for dinner?" She asks Peyton and Warren. "I'm making lasagna."

"I really should get going," Warren says, snatching the ice cream out of my loving embrace. "I have to get some groceries to my mom. Do you need a ride, Peyton?"

"I would love one." Peyton quickly jumps at the opportunity to escape the awkwardness of our current situation. She follows Warren to the door after he grabbed his groceries and mouths 'text me' to which I nod.

Once they're out the door, I gather up my work and head towards my room. If I stayed in the kitchen, Olivia would probably try to ask me how my day was and other meaningless questions. All of which, I would much rather avoid.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," Olivia calls after me.

"Okay," I respond, already halfway up the stairs.

When I enter my room, it's just how I left it: piles of discarded clothes on the floor, scattered with loose papers from old assignments and several clumps of Nova hair. I flop down onto my un-made bed and pull out my phone to check if Peyton's messaged me yet. When I open it there's only one notification.

Brayden Erickson sent you a friend request.