The Backup Girlfriend (Grove Valley High Book 2) Page 24

  “They should just get divorced,” I say quietly. “They’re not happy, haven’t been for as long as I can remember. I don’t think they even like each other, let alone love each other.”

  “It sounds complicated.”

  It shouldn’t be. Shouldn’t it be simple? If you love someone, you stay with them; if you don’t and they make you a meaner, angrier version of yourself, you should let them go and forget about the consequences. You should put your children first and think about the damage your relationship does to them.

  I clear my throat, my gaze hovering somewhere on his left cheek. I can’t look him in the eye right now. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about what happened. I don’t really tell people about my family.”

  “Of course. I would never gossip about your family, Abigail.”

  I nod. I know that. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve figured out that I can trust him.

  “And I meant it when I told your dad you’re going to graduate this summer. I believe that.”

  I shrug. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t let him get in your head and make you doubt yourself. You got this. You’re smart, you just took your foot off the pedal and stopped caring for a while, but you’ve already done so much toward Ms. Sallinson’s requirements. I know it’s going to happen.”

  His faith in me is nice, even if I don’t quite believe it myself. How can I when my parents have never believed in me?

  “But you can’t keep missing tutoring sessions.”

  I instantly feel guilty. We planned to meet this morning, but I didn’t show because I didn’t want to face him, even though I knew he’d be there waiting. Somewhere along the way, I’ve figured out that he stands by what he says and doesn’t let people down. “I know. I just couldn’t this morning.”

  “I understand, but I think we should make up for it after school.”

  “What?” I frown. “Aren’t you working?”

  He smiles. “Not tonight.”

  I don’t know why, but that little bit of information makes my heart jump just slightly.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “You don’t have to spend your one night off tutoring me. I can just study on my own.”

  “Hey, a deal’s a deal, Abigail Baker. We agreed I would tutor you and that you would graduate with the rest of us. I’m taking it very seriously.”

  I blink at him. A deal’s a deal. He’s right. This is just a deal, a deal I pay him for, and his reward was my dad’s business card, which he already has after last night, and a date with Sasha, as well as the money for his savings. I want to kick myself for letting my mind wander and forget about that. I need to remember what this is really about.

  I start rummaging around in my bag and pull out my wallet, taking out the money I owe him for this week. “Here’s the money for this week.” I offer him a tight smile. “Last full week before judgment day.”

  He stares at the money in my hand for what feels like a long time before he finally reaches out and pushes my outstretched hand away. “No.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want your money. I shouldn’t have let you keep paying me.”

  What? “Is this because of what my dad said about paying you?”

  He presses his lips together, and I know it is.

  “God, don’t listen to him. A deal’s a deal—you just said that yourself.”

  “Abigail,” he says softly. “You’re my friend.” The confirmation that he sees me as that and not just the girl he tutors make my heart soar. “I should have stopped letting you pay me weeks ago.”

  “Brett, I know how much your savings mean to you, how hard you work for your money.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You’re going to graduate and I’m going to tutor you because I want to, not because of anything else. You don’t owe me anything, not a single thing.”

  Is he just talking about money, or is he talking about his date with Sasha too?

  “You don’t have to.

  “I want to.” He tilts his head. “And I meant what I said to your dad. I really do think you’ll get the grades to pass. You’re going to graduate with us.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I really do.”

  Him thinking that means more to me than he’ll ever know.

  “Come back to my place after school. We can hang out, study…” He smirks. “My mom will be cooking, just saying…”

  I can’t help the smile on my face at that and the thought of seeing his sweet, laid-back, interesting mom again.

  “You sure she wouldn’t mind having me there?”

  He rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother to answer the question.

  “I’ll see you after school, Baker.”

  He turns to walk away but then stops himself, turning back to face me.

  “I threw your dad’s business card in the garbage, by the way.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

  “I don’t want to have anything to do with someone who is capable of speaking to you like that.”

  I feel emotional. He’s backing me up. He’s choosing me over my dad and the doors he could open for him.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  Then he strolls past me just as the bell for homeroom rings out, and just like that, my day has switched around and I’m smiling.

  Brett has given me something to look forward to, which I’m pretty sure was his intention.

  29

  My brain hurts.

  All I’ve done for the past week, since the whole disaster Brett saw at my house, is study, study, study. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t think anything is getting through anymore. I’ve been staring at the equations in front of me for the last five minutes, but the numbers are just swimming in front of my eyes and I can barely focus.

  “Okay, you’ve had enough.”

  I look over at Brett distractedly. “Sorry, I just need a second. I’m good.”

  He shakes his head as he reaches over and closes my textbook. “No, you’re done.”

  I let out a long sigh, sitting back. I am done. I am so, so over this. “I can’t be done—I only have two days.”

  He watches me for a second, seemingly thinking something over in his mind. “I think you’ve done enough.”

  “Until tomorrow?”

  “No, until the tests. You’re not going to take in anything new anymore.”

  I stare back at him. “No, no way. I don’t know even close to enough.”

  “Yeah, you do. You just have to have faith in yourself.”

  “I’m not going to not study tomorrow, Brett.”

  “Just reviewing, nothing new. Not at this point.”

  That’s a scary thought, that right now I know everything I’m going to know and might not get any further, that everything I know currently is going to have to be enough to pull me through and make the difference.

  The thought is damn near terrifying.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  My eyes snap to his.

  “You’re done for the day. You’re tired. Let’s get out of here and try to take your mind off it.”

  If only Brett knew he’d be very capable of taking my mind off these tests, just not in the way he’s imagining.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He sends me a smile. “Come on, let me help you chill.”

  I stare at him for a second before my eyes go to my notebook, page after page of equations, weeks and weeks of studying.

  He’s probably right.

  I probably can’t get anything else in my brain, at least not tonight.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  He shrugs. “Who cares?”

  He’s right about that—who actually cares? I know I don’t. All I want to do is get the hell out of this library and switch my brain off, and if Brett’s offering to help me do that, who am I to say no?

/>   “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Let’s go.”

  We pack up in silence and I follow him out the door, into the parking lot and over to his car, climbing into the front seat and letting him peel out of the drive and leave this school and my studying stresses behind, at least for now.

  He drives for nearly forty minutes, taking us out of town and to the coast a couple of towns away. We don’t talk much on the way there, just roll the windows down, feeling the air stream through the windows. My phone is linked up to the stereo, blasting out music I know Brett doesn’t appreciate, but he doesn’t comment on it because he’s clearly all about trying to make me feel better in this moment. If that means me listening to old-school pop music, that’s the way it’s going to be.

  He eventually pulls over on the side of the road by a Mexican food truck. It looks like I’ll catch salmonella by just standing near it, but Brett completely ignores my protests and instead puts an order in while I hover in the background.

  A minute later, he’s walking over to the cheap plastic table and chairs that are set up just past the truck and putting a selection of tacos down in front of us as well as a couple of sodas that are so full of sugar I wouldn’t normally go near them.

  “I shouldn’t drink that stuff,” I tell him half-heartedly. “Or eat the tacos.”

  “You can eat and drink whatever you want, Abigail.”

  “I’ll put on weight.”

  “I’ve told you before—it’s not possible for you to look bad.”

  He has told me before, and it’s even more confusing to me now as it was to me then.

  Why is he so hard to read?

  He nudges the plate of tacos toward me. “Try them.”

  Two minutes later, I’m completely eating my words, because I’ve already wolfed down my share of the fish tacos and I’m going back to order us another round, as well as the chips and guac they’re selling.

  I look up after I’ve just stuffed another taco in my mouth to find him watching me with a small smile on his face, and I suddenly feel shy. This is the sort of place I would never usually eat at, would turn my nose up at, and yet he’s shown me a different way of doing things, made me see things differently, and not for the first time.

  It’s another item on the growing list of things I like about him.

  He nods toward the last taco in front of us and tells me it’s all mine.

  Usually I’d never eat this much in front of a guy due to years of my mom telling me it’s unattractive to be hungry and greedy in front of them, telling me it’s off-putting and unappealing, but I don’t feel like that with Brett. Watching him watch me eat all this food almost makes me think he’s proud of me.

  “What are you going to do next year, Abigail?”

  The questions startles me out of my thoughts.

  I shrug. I’ve been avoiding this question myself.

  “Come on, you must have thought of something. What are you thinking?”

  I look down at the empty plate in front of me. “Maybe I’ll run away to Mexico and eat tacos all day.”

  He doesn’t respond, just sits silently, waiting for me to give him a real answer.

  Eventually, I let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I’m not good at anything.”

  “That’s not true.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Yes, it is. I’m about to fail out of high school.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He sounds so sure of it at this moment that I want to hug him.

  “Well even if it doesn’t, it’ll be due to you tutoring me and my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend helping me raise money.”

  “Stop it.” He sounds irritated, the first time he’s sounded that way around me in a long time. “Stop putting yourself down all the time. We’ve helped, but you’re the one who’s done it.”

  I shrug my shoulders, feeling self-conscious.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t belittle yourself just because you’re so used to being belittled by your parents.”

  My eyes lock with his, those blue eyes I want to melt into, and I’ve never wanted to touch someone so much in my life.

  “You’re better than that, and you’re way, way better than you give yourself credit for.”

  I have to look away before I do something really stupid like jump him.

  “Come on,” he coaxes. “If you could do anything at all, what would it be?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’m not just saying it…I don’t think I’m good at many things.”

  “Abigail!” He’s starting to sound exasperated.

  “Makeup. I like makeup.”

  He blinks at me, like I’m just confirming all the bimbo stereotypes he already thought about me.

  “It’s a huge industry,” I say, not quite able to look at him while I reveal to him, the first person I’ve told, this half-baked plan I have in my head. “And it’s becoming more and more accessible. I could do people’s makeup, post images online, and try to grow the business that way.”

  “So you’d be a makeup artist?”

  I’m surprised he knows what that is. “Yeah. I feel like I’m good at it. I could start a blog or an online channel, and maybe after I’m a little bit more experienced, I could try to become a personal makeup artist to a celebrity or something. You know, really raise my profile.”

  He nods at that, like it’s not a completely ludicrous thing to say.

  “I wouldn’t mind living in LA for a while,” I say, warming up to the idea. “I’ve always loved it in when I’ve visited and that’s where all the stars are, and they have people doing their makeup all day long. Makeup artists out there actually make a tonne of money.” I shrug. “All my friends will be away at college anyway, so I have no reason to stay here.”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “I know I sound crazy.”

  “I don’t think you sound crazy at all.”

  My eyes find his. “I don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  “I think if anyone can make that work, it’s you.”

  I shift in my seat as his words wash over me. Him saying that makes me believe it’s possible. When did his opinion become so important to me?

  “Good.” I grin. “Because that’s just the start of my plans. Eventually, after I have enough money saved, I want to launch my own makeup line.”

  He grins right back at me. “Of course you do.”

  “It’s not as crazy as it sounds. It’s a billion-dollar industry, and I want a piece of it.”

  “I believe it.”

  “And I wouldn’t be messing around,” I tell him eagerly. “I’d take it really seriously, build an audience, create the brand myself.”

  “I don’t doubt it. You’re the best businesswoman I know.”

  “I am?”

  He chuckles. “Yes. Did you see how much your bake sales made? Who else in school would have the audacity to charge that much and then completely stand her ground so that everyone else buys into it too?”

  I blink at him. I did do that. I hadn’t ever thought about it like that before. I also pushed Chase to charge more for entry to his auction.

  I feel a wide smile spreading across my face.

  Maybe I am good at something after all.

  He winks at me. “Didn’t that girl from that reality show make a billion dollars from her makeup line? Who says you can’t do that?”

  My heart feels like it’s going to explode with him having this much faith in me, like it’s completely normal that one day I’ll be rich from my efforts and I won’t need anyone else to do it for me.

  “The sky’s the limit I guess.”

  He shakes his head. “No ‘I guess’ about it. If you put your mind to something, Abigail Baker, you’ll do it,” he tells me with absolute certainty. “That’s why I know for sure that you’re going to pass your tests and graduate with us.”

  “You really believe that?”

  He nods. “I’d bet my savings on
it.”

  I blink rapidly to stop tears flooding my eyes at his words, because I know how much his savings mean to him, how careful he is with his money. I have never, ever had someone have so much faith in me before, not even my sister.

  He cocks his head to the side. “C’mon.”

  I stand without thinking, feeling like I’d follow him anywhere right now, and watch as he goes to the trunk of his car. He pulls out a couple of towels before coming back over to me and leading me down a beaten path until we come to a tiny beach cove that’s completely deserted.

  I look around in surprise. I’m used to being by the beach, but I hardly ever see it empty, and with the sun beating down on us, I feel like we’re on our own private stretch of sand right now.

  He drops the towels onto the ground, and I’m expecting him to flop down on them, but instead he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

  I’m so surprised I don’t know what to do, staying still as he throws his t-shirt onto the towel. It takes everything I have to keep my eyes on his face and resist the temptation of my gaze dropping to his torso.

  “Come on,” he says, and I can’t resist any longer. My eyes slide down, and to my pleasant surprise, he actually has a couple of abs, not an ounce of fat on him, and golden skin covered by a couple of freckles, which I really wouldn’t mind licking.

  This boy is doing strange things to me.

  He reaches for the button on his jeans, and it’s enough of a shock to snap me out of my daze. “What are you doing?!”

  “We’re going in.”

  “We are not.”

  “Come on, Abigail. Live a little.”

  “I…I don’t…I don’t have my bathing suit.”

  He winks at me. “I don’t mind.”

  My insides knot at his words, and I’m pretty sure right now my face isn’t hiding just how attracted to him I am.

  He laughs at me and then is pulling down his jeans and kicking them off before running into the ocean in his black boxers, giving me just enough of a view to know I want to attach myself to him.

  I watch as he runs into the water, splashing around then diving in head first.