“He didn’t actually want another girlfriend besides you, Meg!” she exclaims, standing to her feet. “And if he ‘couldn’t bring himself to see you as just a friend,’ that obviously means he still liked you! I know he handled the whole thing wrong, but at least now you know how he really felt.”
I purse my lips, a little annoyed that I didn’t come to this conclusion myself, but like I told her—it wasn’t easy to think clearly last night.
“So,” I drawl as she strolls around my room, “you think I should give him a second chance then?”
Even though I’m pretty sure I already did—which, once again—is why I’m so confused.
“I think you should ask him what a second chance would mean to him,” she says, stopping at my window. “If it means that he wants to try and be friends this time—” She turns and gives me a suggestive look. “—or if he wants to be more than friends.”
My stomach tightens at the thought. “He probably just wants a second chance as friends.”
“Would you be okay with that though?” she asks, opening my curtains. “Can you see yourself only being friends with Brayden? Or do you still have feelings for him?”
My first instinct is to flat-out say no, like I’ve been doing. At the same time though, I know that I’m undeniably attracted to him, and that being around him does something to me. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have feelings for him…does it?
I bite my lower lip, clicking the pen once more. “Maybe?”
“To which one?” She looks at me again. “Maybe you can see yourself being friends with him? Or maybe you still have feelings for him?” She then raises an eyebrow at me. “I already know the answer, Meg. You just need to say it out loud for yourself.”
“How are you so sure that you know?” I ask, not wanting to admit anything. “Maybe you’re wrong.”
“If I was wrong, then I wouldn’t be here having this whole conversation with you,” she says, staring out the window. “He just walked to their backyard…are you going to go talk to him?”
I almost ask if he’s shirtless—because of the last time he was hanging around outside—but decide to keep that question to myself.
“I think I should just wait until school tomorrow,” I drawl, hoping I don’t seem anxious. “That’s a good idea, right?”
“No,” she replies, stepping away from the window, “it’s a terrible idea. You need to go talk to him now, while last night is still fresh in both of your minds, and you don’t have time to back out.”
“But—”
“No whining,” she cuts me off, “you need to do this.”
“I need to say this, and you need to listen.”
“Fine,” I mutter, sliding off my bed, “I’ll go talk to him. But if it turns out badly, I’m holding you accountable.”
“Stop stalling,” she says as I take my sweet time walking to the door, “the sooner you go out there…the sooner it’ll be over.”
I guess that’s true. However, I still drag my feet as I leave my room, go downstairs, and slip outsi—
“Where are you going?”
I pause, holding the backyard door partially open, and then I turn to Kyle. “Neverland.”
He makes a face at me. “Can I go outside with you if I ask Mom?”
I pretend to think about it. “No. I’m just stepping out for a few minutes…to get some fresh air.”
“But I want to go outside too,” he whines, now holding his infamous stuffed dog over his head, “and so does Hammy! He needs exercise!”
Mom and Dad just need to get this kid a real dog already.
“I’m gonna go ask Mom!”
I roll my eyes as he runs off, and then I finish “slipping outside.”
While we have a fenced-in yard, the Palminos’-turned-Knights’ backyard does not have any fencing; so, once I walk out our gate and take a few steps forward, I’m in the Knights’ backyard. And there he is—thankfully not shirtless—but he’s wearing another muscle tank like he wore last night, so his arms are on full display once again.
Oof.
He sets down some kind of decent-sized bag that looks like it has a picture of flowers on it, then he dusts his hands off before—
“Megan,” he says after his startled gaze lands on me, “I didn’t—what are you doing here?”
“Hey,” I greet him lamely, offering an awkward wave, “uh…nothing much. What are you doing?”
He cocks an eyebrow and nods toward the green bag he set down. “My dad asked me to carry that back here for him. He’s really into gardening.”
Ah, that explains the flower picture on it.
“So,” he drawls, placing his hands on his hips, “are you going to tell me why you’re really over here? Because after the way you ran off on me last night, a surprise visit from you was the last thing I was expecting.”
“I didn’t…run off on you,” I all-but-mutter, scratching the back of my neck, “I was just walking at a faster pace than usual.”
His lips form a brief smirk. “You could join track and field.”
“I wasn’t running!” I insist, knowing how guilty I sound. “But I am…sorry…for leaving like I did.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Meg,” he says, shaking his head, “and if you don’t want to give me another chance—I totally get that.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I reply with a frustrated sigh, “it’s just…I thought I already had. When we agreed to start over and be friends? Wasn’t that a second chance?”
“Well, yeah.” His eyebrows crease some. “I just thought I should ask you officially though…ya know, after telling you the truth about everything?”
So, I was technically right, he wants a second chance as friends. Which makes sense, how could he possibly still
