She proceeds to laugh, and I then notice that Victor is holding some kind of covered platter. Huh, this is a first. No one usually brings us stuff when they come over for dinner.
“Wonderful!” Mom exclaims. I know she must be mentally cringing though because she already made dessert. “You said your son suggested it?”
And that would be Mom’s polite way of finding out where their said son is.
“Yes, he did,” Dawn says with a proud smile. “He’ll be here in a few minutes, Brayden just wanted to finish up something he was working on.”
Brayden?
Their son’s name is Brayden?
And their last name is Knight?
No.
It can’t be.
There must be other Brayden Knights in the world, right?
Right. And their son is just one of those other Brayden Knights.
“Oh really?” Mom asks as a reply to something that Dawn must have told her. “You used to live here? How long ago?”
No.
It can’t be.
But when Dawn answers with, “about six years ago,” I know that I’m totally screwed.
“Ah, there he is!” I hear his mom chirp. “Brayden, meet the Taylors! This is Audrey, Randall, Megan, Hailee, and Kyle. I think Megan is probably around your age, honey.”
So. Screwed.
As Mom starts talking about who-knows-what, I just stare at him. At Brayden. And I wish there was a chance that he doesn’t remember me, but he’s staring just as much as I am. This is horrible. We were never supposed to see each other again! What kind of cruel twist of fate is this?!
Okay, so he remembers me—clearly—but maybe he doesn’t remember that stupid note. After all, it was a long time ago, and guys don’t remember that kind of stuff. He can’t remember that stupid note. My life will be over if he does.
And what happened to his shaggy, Bieber-do? Where are his hipster glasses? Why couldn’t he turn out ugly after all these years?
“I just love the name Brayden,” Hailee gushes to him, completely unaware of the stare-down we’re having, “it’s so edgy.”
Looks like Mom isn’t the only one to lay it on thick…
“Uh, yeah,” Brayden replies, barely glancing at her, “thanks.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re so funny!” Hailee laughs as she takes a hold of his arm. “We should totally sit next to each other during dinner.”
So much secondhand embarrassment right now.
“Well, who’s ready to eat?” Mom asks with a huge smile on her face.
——————
My mother hates me. Yep. I mean, why else would she arrange it so I’d be stuck sitting next to Brayden?
Dang, he smells just as good as he did yesterday.
I. Should. Not. Care. About. The. Way. He. Smells.
And I really shouldn’t care about the fact that he keeps glancing at me. It’s hard to ignore though. Just like it’s been kind of hard to ignore Hailee’s death glares. She should be mad at Mom. After all, it’s not like I picked where everyone would be sitting…
I can’t even enjoy my stupid spaghetti. It’s impossible to. Why does his chair feel so close to mine? Would it be totally obvious if I scooted away from him? When did he stop wearing glasses anyway?
Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care…
“Megan, honey,” Mom suddenly says, gathering my attention, “could you go get the rest of the garlic bread, please?”
Normally, I’d have an attitude about being the “errand girl,” but right now? I’m more than happy to get away from this table.
Away from him.
“Yeah, of course,” I reply, trying not to look too eager as I stand up. “No problem, Mom.”
A brief look of surprise crosses over her face, but then she just smiles before asking Brayden’s parents about how moving in is going. Whatever.
I make my way into the kitchen and let out a frustrated sigh. You know, if the Palminos hadn’t selfishly moved to flippin’ Alaska, then Brayden and his family wouldn’t be living next door to me…just saying.
I pull my phone out to see if Lora has responded to my “MAJOR EMERGENCY” text, but it doesn’t even seem like she saw it yet. Then again, I’m pretty sure that tonight is when she and Belinda are going to the movies for some sister bonding time. Which would be totally fine if I wasn’t in the middle of dealing with a serious crisis right now.
“Megan Taylor…what are the odds, huh?”
What the crap is he doing in here?
I casually slip my phone into my back pocket as I try to think of how I should respond to him. Or maybe I could just ignore him.
Or, what if I pretend like I don’t know who he really is? It’s probably a bad idea, but I’m willing to try anyway.
“I’m sorry?” I give him a confused look. “Exactly, what odds are you talking about?”
Hey, there’s a reason why Mrs. Croft gave me the lead role in our third-grade play.
“The odds of us being neighbors?” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at me. “After all this time?”
“Uhhh…” I trail off, making sure that I sound completely lost. “Okay? I’m not sure what you mean though.” I then add an awkward laugh, to really sell it.
“Ah,” he comments with a nod, “so you’re trying to tell me that you don’t remember me? Is that what’s happening right now?”
Keep it going, Megan.
“Wait,” I reply, widening my eyes at him, “are you saying that we used to know each other?”
Someone give me an Oscar already.
“Wow,” he says in disbelief, “how stupid do you think I am, Meg? I know you remember me…middle school wasn’t that long ago.”
Would it make things worse if I just continued to play crazy? Probably. So, I decide to go with my earlier idea. I ignore him.
I stride over to the main counter and grab the covered
