If I Fell

Chapter Four

“Just drop it, Marce,” I demanded as I walked out of my bedroom.

It just wasn’t that easy with her sometimes though, because she was trailing after me relentlessly. Considering she could forget things so quickly if it was in her best interests, you’d think she would be able to do the same for me. Yeah… not so much.

“You’re not getting out of this so easily!” she returned, raising her eyebrows warningly.

With a roll of my eyes, I sent her a glance at the top of the stairs. That determined look on her face wasn’t likely to go away soon.

Wincing I hurried down the stairs. Maybe if I went fast enough, I could just avoid the subject altogether. It wasn’t like it’d be hard for me to outrun her since she was in a pair of heels and a short skirt while I was more comfortably clad in sweatpants, socks and a soft hoodie. Oh, yeah, I definitely had the advantage here.

Even though I slipped dangerous across the hardwood floors with my socks, I was far ahead of her on the path to the kitchen.

And it was just proved when she let out a frustrated, “Allison!”

“No!”

“We’re talking about this!”

Glancing behind me, I saw that her heels weren’t deterring her all that much as she wasn’t far behind me any longer. Damn it. “There’s nothing to talk about,” I countered in a calm voice as I slowed to a walk, calmly skirting the island.

“What aren’t we talking about?” came my mother’s voice, jolting me into the realization she was sitting at the island.

Not that quick on the uptake, I blinked across at her. Her straight blonde hair was pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of her neck along with her glasses; there was a glass of red wine sitting in front of the pile of papers she had spread across the granite counter. The line between her brows was an instant tip off to me that whatever she was doing was causing her a bit of issue. The line happened when she was constantly frowning, which my mom did when she was deep in thought.

It appeared that Marcy had none of the hesitation that plagued me. “The fact she refuses to even talk about Friday when she turned down a seriously hot guy for no reason at all that makes any sense!” she exclaimed, and I could only wonder if she’d bothered to take a breath during that little rant.

“God Marcy,” I groaned, burying my head in my hands in embarrassment.

My mom didn’t seem to care about my mortification, because she quickly returned, “A boy asked her out?”

“Yes he did!” Marcy exclaimed, causing me to glance up at her only to find her glaring pointedly in my directions. “And he’s the running back and he’s nice and he’s popular and he’s hot and I don’t understand her!”

When my friend threw her arms up in the air, my mom didn’t even seem shocked. She’d known Marcy forever, so she wasn’t surprised at all by her behaviour, especially when it came to boys. “What’s his name?” she asked, pulling her glasses off.

“Mike freaking Hamilton,” whined Marcy.

I rolled my eyes at her.

“Do I know him?” questioned my mom, that frown I’d been thinking about coming back to crease between her brows.

Figuring that this one was directed to me, I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, you do. He’s Nancy and Michael Hamilton’s son. Nancy’s part of the group you have lunch with at the club.”

“Ah, I know them,” my mom murmured, a thoughtful expression coming onto her face as she tapped her glasses lightly against her chin. “They’re nice people; I like them… You should call the son,” she decided.