Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend Part 19

"I didn't."

She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off.

"I didn't, Hayles. You were the only thing on my mind."

She falls on her knees, her hair covering her face and exposing her new ink. Her back goes up and down with each deep breath she takes. Wish I knew what she was thinkin'. Maybe this is just an excuse *cause she doesn't look at me the way I want her to.

I'm a fool. All this time she was dodgin' my touch and avoiding the compliments was because she didn't want to lead me on. Not *cause of her insecurities. But *cause she doesn't want me the same way I want her.

Now I feel like s.h.i.+t. Should've just taken the first rejection and left it alone.

"I-I get it if you don't want to... I mean if I'm not your type or anythin'." c.r.a.p, gotta wipe the sweat off my palms. It's startin' to sting the cuts on my knuckles. "Just thought you needed to know how I felt about you."

"Gosh, Brody. That's. Not. It." Her head tilts up. "I've been trying... I mean really trying not to get all gushy ga-ga over you. It's not the easiest thing in the world. I had to keep pus.h.i.+ng myself away from you, keep telling myself that all the stuff you were doing was because you were my friend. All the hand holding and smiling and looking hecka hot was because that's just who you are. You want Quynn. That's what I keep telling myself."

She takes a breath, finally lookin' me in the eyes. "You deserve someone like her anyway. Someone who's... beautiful."

"You are b-"

"You know what I mean." Her hands cover her stomach. A tear strolls down her cheek. "I'm fat, all right. Don't argue with me because I'm not stupid. I see the way people look at me, and I hear what they say. You and I... we just won't make sense. People won't understand it." She pauses. "I don't understand it."

Okay, so she doesn't want me to argue, but no way am I agreeing with her on the fat thing. I take her hands in mine, playing with her fingers. She's shakin', I'm shakin', and the weird thing is, I'm not nervous. Not now. Not after she told me exactly what's stopping her. This, I can deal with, because she's wrong.

"All right, so even if you were fat, which you're not, why would it matter? Why can't we be together if we feel the same things for each other?"

She shakes her head, more tears dropping from her eyelashes as she blinks. "It doesn't make sense. Why would anyone choose the fat girl over the skinny one?" She grips my hand and stares me down. "You tell me that, and maybe... maybe I can allow myself to feel the things I want to feel for you."

"You want reasons why you and not Quynn?" I don't want her to think I'm sayin' she's fat, so I add, "Why I want a gorgeous and crazy funny girl I just met instead of the one I've been lookin' at for a while?"

Her cheeks flush, and she scoots closer. "Yes. That's exactly what I want."

Great! I have this in the bag. I can list a million things right now.

"Okay, reason one-"

"No. I want you to write them down for me. Give me time to process all this, and you to make sure they're good." She smiles. A real Hayley smile.

"Yes, ma'am!" I salute, and she punches me in the arm. Just like that, we're back in the *friend' arena. Friend arena with potential.

She stands and helps me up. I keep my hand tucked in hers, and wish I could go in for the kiss. Not going to do that again. Not when I'm this close to gettin' her.

"Happy Birthday, Hayles."

Smiling, she pulls me into a hug. "Thank you again, Mr. Grant. Best freaking night of my gosh darn life. Even with you bearing your soul and all."

I chuckle as she lets me go. I watch her walk into the house and stand out there till my feet feel like movin' again.

Bam! Best date ever, even with all that awkward c.r.a.p it wasn't... awkward. Better put that on the list.

She's got the best smile, knows how to have fun, and makes me feel gooey and stuff. Puttin' those on there too.

This list will be the easiest thing in the world.

Reason 17: You're a cute little cheater.

This c.r.a.p is hard.

I can come up with all the reasons I need to, but when I write them down they look so stupid.

That and my hand is so sore my handwriting looks like I just learned how to write ten seconds before I started this list.

I stare at the paper with scribble marks all over it and chuck it in the corner of the a.s.s room. Yes, it's become the corn chippy room again because all I did after droppin' Hayles off is text the c.r.a.p out of her and lay in bed, thinking about that tatt on her shoulder. I bet it's healed enough now I can touch it. Run my fingers over it and press my lips against it.

You know... if she ever lets me.

I can't concentrate on this right now. I have to get in that cheesy goobery mood, and I'm just not feelin' it. I don't want to write it all down because I want to talk to her. Plopping down on the bed, I whip out my phone and press the only contact I ever call in there.

After four rings I know she's not pickin' up. I leave a lame message, the *hey it's me... uh, Brody, yeah... call me back' one that makes me sound way more awkward than I'd like.

Because I'm bored-and just a bit obsessive-I grab my jacket and head out. Sunday afternoon and I got nothin' better to do than drive past Hayley's house. *Cause I just have to.

"Where you going?" Dad puts his gla.s.ses back on as he sits up on the couch, blinking his eyes as he tries to get the sleep out of them from his old man nap.

"Just out for a bit." I grab the keys. "You okay if I take your car?" Dad's truck is much cooler than Mom's Corsica, but also Hayley won't recognize it.

"Tell you what, you sit here and talk to the old man for two minutes, and you can take the Dodge."

Sounds like a good deal to me. Except this is probably about the face surgery I gave Gabe on Friday. I sit down on the edge of the seat. I know Dad won't beat me or anythin', but still... defense mode is molded into my body.

"You want to tell me what happened with Gabe? Or should I just go with what he told me?"

I set my elbows on my knees. "He's an a.s.s."

"If that's the only reason you beat his mug, then it would've happened before now."

This is why Dad's cool. Why I didn't completely c.r.a.p myself when he asked me and Gabe if he could marry Mom. Why I call him Dad and not Mark. Because he gets it. He just knows everythin' that goes down and doesn't freak, but talks about it. Dude, Gabe was here to see him, because even though Dad hasn't talked to him since he bailed on our family, he knew he would listen.

I run my hand over my buzzed head. "He said somethin' that threw me over the edge. I don't know what happened, but I couldn't stop."

"From what your Mom said, you did stop."

I shrug. They're right. I did stop once I saw what an idiot I was bein'. And how stupid it was for me to take out all the stuff I was dealin' with on him. Even though the punk deserved it. Still, I punched him long and hard enough he needed st.i.tches. I feel maybe ten percent bad about it.

"What did he say?"

No. Not going to tell him about Hayles. It sucks already that she thinks she's the *FFF' or whatever she called it, but havin' Gabe say it, then tellin' Dad about it... no. It's not happening.

I don't care what she or anyone else thinks. She's not fat.

"Nothin'. Just p.i.s.sed me off."

Dad leans forward, looking at me over his gla.s.ses. "It was about a girl, wasn't it?"

How in the h.e.l.l?

"Huh?"

"Come on, son. I get it. Whenever someone says something about your mother, or cops a feel or something, I want to do the same thing to them. It's built in our DNA. We protect the girls we love."

I'm tryin' real hard to ignore he just said people *cop a feel' on my mom. Ugh.

"Yeah."

He chuckles. "I won't pry, but I should probably get some discipline in here somewhere. Or some fatherly advice. What's your poison?"

See? Cool Dad. I stand up, shakin' my head. "Just tell me how one girl can make me act like a psycho, then I'll be on my way."

"You know, I'm still tryin' to figure that out."

"Three of Hearts." Hayles grabs my wrist, whipping it around so she can take a glance at the card tucked in my hand. "Fart. I thought I had that one."

I chuckle and put the seven of spades back in the deck. "Okay, try again." Taking another card from the middle, I give her a wink before she closes her eyes and starts humming.

We've been at this for an hour. She caught me drivin' down her street and said her mom wasn't home, so I could *come on in!' Weird. Didn't expect it, but hey, I took advantage of the rare opportunity.

She's gotten twenty-four cards right, five of which were in a row, tellin' me she has telepathic powers. I told her she's full of c.r.a.p *cause if she was, she wouldn't need me to write a freakin' list for her. She slapped my arm and got the next three out of five cards right.

And who am I to tell her she's crazy when she keeps lucking out?

"Jack of diamonds."

I glance at the card in my hand. "Ooh, close."

"Hearts! I mean hearts! Jack of hearts!"

She's right, d.a.m.n it. I tuck the card back in the deck and say, "Nope, sorry."

She gasps. "You little liar."

I give her a big grin, crossing my arms. "Well, you'll never know for sure, will you?"

"I do know for sure." She gives me that cute evil smile, and that's when it clicks. I whip my head around to the full length mirror sitting behind me. Darn girl's been cheatin' this whole time!

"Holy sh... c.r.a.p."

She busts up, rolling to the floor and giggling into the very white carpet in her room.

"Took you long enough to figure out," she says between fits of laughter. I know I look like a d.a.m.n idiot, but I'm laughin' with her. Also tryin' not to touch her, but I want to do that wrestling thing girls and guys do when they tease each other. I don't want to p.i.s.s her off though.

She sits back up, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Oh my gosh, that was great."

Screw it. I'm goin' in.

I grab the deck of cards and leap to her side of the room. She lets out a little yelp as I put my hand over her eyes. I'm not bein' tough or anythin'. She could easily slip out from underneath me, but she doesn't. She keeps laughing and asking *What the wallowing weasels are you doing?'

"Okay smartie pants," I say grabbing a card and keeping it close to my chin even though my hand is still over her face. "What card am I holding?"

Her laughter subsides. She's still smilin', and so am I. Always around her.

"Um, six of clubs?"

"No way."

I drop my hand from her eyes and flip the card around. Maybe the girl is telepathic.

"Ha!" She grabs the six of clubs from my fingers and shakes her head. "What are the freaking odds?" She smiles and playfully pushes my chest. "I think someone owes me an apology."

"Oh no. You lucked out." I tap her nose because while she's lettin' me, I'm going to touch her.

She smiles and shoves me against the wall, tucking herself under my arm.

Did that just happen? Everything inside me jumps with her this close, cuddling with me. Chocolate smell and soft body pressed against mine. And I wasn't the one who did it. I was more or less a pillow she fluffed before collapsing on.

Hot d.a.m.n!

"You still haven't told me..." Her voice shakes, and she starts fumbling around with the necklace I've got on. "What does your tat-?"

"Hayley!" The front door slams and Hayles' face loses all its color.

"c.r.a.p, c.r.a.p, c.r.a.p." She leaps from my arms and starts shoving me towards the window. "Sorry, Brody, you have to go. Like, now."

Nothing comes out my mouth. Millions of questions pile in my head but get clogged on their way out. I give her a quick hug before crawling through the open window, out onto the part of the roof underneath it. How I get down from here... yeah, haven't figured it out yet.

"Hayley?"

c.r.a.p. That voice is much closer now. I hop onto the next level up's ledge because I'm stupid and don't think to get off the roof altogether. There's no window or anythin' from up here, so I flatten myself over where I just climbed up, hopin' I won't be here long.

"I'm in here, Mom."

I shouldn't listen. I should block it all out and give Hayles privacy, but I'm too afraid to loosen my death grip on the roof to cover my ears. Heights are not my thing, and I'm man enough to admit that.

"Guess what?!" Hayles' mom's voice isn't what I expected. I saw her fru-fru *I'm too good for you' stare from the window and instantly thought English and high-pitched. Not Cruella Devil on crack.

"What are you doing home?" Hayley's voice is completely pa.s.sive, nonchalant, like I wasn't in her room ten seconds ago. She's good.