Recompense For Love: Book Three of the Against All Odds Series Page 6

  Once Mrs. Sylvia’s back is to the class, I hold the note under my desk to unfold it.

  Wow. One whole line to an entire sheet of paper. One whole line to risk detention over. Typical Nash.

  What’s up, Stars?

  Scribbling out an annoyed response, I pass the note back, leaving my hand in place because I know it’s going to be less than a minute before he’s tapping me again. This is how we spend most of our shared classes—bullshitting around and passing notes.

  Gee, I don’t know…sitting in class, maybe?

  Never would have guessed. You excited for Winter Formal next week?

  Irritation courses through me as my anxiety doubles. I write my response and quickly volley the note his way, glancing over my shoulder with a glare.

  Um, if I had a date I might be…but you fudged that up by butting in and interrupting Hugh yesterday. He was going to ask me and YOU scared him away…

  He wasn’t going to ask you.

  And how do you know?

  Because he had said something about doing so earlier in the day, and I told him I’d break his nose if he did. And I told him not to.

  WTH. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? PRICK. And I can see where you marked through the truth, dimwit.

  Because I meant for you to. And because I want you to go with me…

  I pause as I read his response, convinced my eyes are jumbling up what’s written on the page and changing the words into what I’d like them to say. After a minute or two of pausing, I slide the note behind me with the only response that suits, which provokes a back and forth war of note passing.

  ?

  Will you give me the honor of being my date to the Winter Formal, Stars… and make me the happiest man in all of Central Valley?

  Stop bullshitting Nash.

  I’m not. Not really, I mean I’m kidding about the proposal sounding shit, but will you just go with me? Please?

  See…this is how I know you’re just messing around. You’ve had numerous opportunities to ask me in person, yet you choose to just dick around in class by passing a note. Glad I could be of some amusement to you, ASS-HAT!

  I’m serious.

  Whatever.

  Completely in denial, I pass the final response to him, resolving to ignore any further attempts at communication on his part. My heart wants to believe he’s sincere, but the way my body is already responding—buzzing with excitement and anticipation—my head is telling me to back off. Getting my hopes up would just make the disappointment a hundred times worse once he tells me he’s joking. Plus, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. I’m not letting my errant emotions screw that up.

  He nudges the note against my elbow again, but I keep my eyes straight forward this time, attempting to focus on the teacher as I force my heart to stop beating erratically.

  ~XoXo~

  Lyra

  Present

  Monday morning, I meet up downtown with Valley and Lo for a Girl’s Day. We enjoy a special day of shopping, going out to eat, or sometimes just staying in and watching television together at least once a week. Usually more, if I’m being realistic.

  V never had a chance to get close to anyone when she was growing up, other than her short stay in Central Valley when we first met. Since our friendship ended on a bad note back then, it’s like we’re making up for lost time—except we’re a million times closer now.

  It’s easy to spot the two making their way down the sidewalk. V’s like an auburn-haired goddess dressed in a gauzy white maxi dress with mesh cutout panels on the sides, and Lo is sporting a bright pink bow wrapped around the base of her curly ponytail. She lives for dressing herself; she’s super particular about what she wears, and her outfits are always over-the-top—something that’s rubbed off on her from her maternal grandmother no doubt.

  Lo’s tutu perfectly matches her hairbow, and it flounces from side to side as she parades down the walkway toward me. She’s chosen a white and navy striped tee to go with it, topped off with a denim jacket. They’re like the cover photo on one of those trendy mother’s magazines.

  Ironically, the first place we’re heading today is The Boutique…which used to be named Two Friends Boutique back when my mom was a part-owner. After she died, however, her friend Pam—whom I’ve always called Aunt Pam—decided to change the name because it caused her too much pain.

  The bell chimes as we open the door and Aunt Pam glances up from behind the catalog she’s currently leafing through.

  “Oh, Lord. It’s a Monday-morning blessing! My favorite gals in town,” she hollers excitedly, shimmying out from behind the front counter and making a beeline straight for Willow. Valley and I laugh at her antics, but Lo opens up her little arms and heads straight for her.

  Pam scoops Lo up and sits her on her hip.

  “Ooof.” She makes an exaggerative sound, pretending like she might buckle under the weight of the little girl now dangling from her side. “I think you’ve grown half a foot and gained twenty pounds since the last time I saw you.” Her finger floats up and bops Lo on the nose playfully.

  “You just saw me last week, Aunt Pammy,” Lo giggles, scrunching her face up in a silly grin.

  “Well then, you must be eating all your veggies like a good girl.”

  “I am,” Willow nods. Lies. She’s a picky eater—unless it’s food with sugar. She loves about any sweet treat.

  “Good.” Pam retreats back behind the counter, Willow in tow. “You girls look around, I just got a load of new stuff and I’ve only put half of it out. You know where the stock room is if you want to check the rest.” She sits back down and Lo plops down in her lap as me and Valley make our way over to the women’s section. “Don’t y’all disturb me and my little fashion expert. I need her help deciding which pieces to order for next time.” With a wink in our direction, she opens up the catalog for Lo, who’s instantly absorbed by all the pretty colors and fabrics. She gets to pick out at least one piece for each significant order of Pam’s, making her feel big and important.

  “10-4, Major Pam,” I salute, poking fun at both her mother hen attitude, and the fact she hates one of the funniest movies ever made…Major Payne. Pam lowers her eyes in a glare, but doesn’t say anything, probably out of fear she’ll break Lo from her concentration.

  “So…I don’t want to say I told you so, but, I told you so.” I shrug. “Gray was ecstatic.” Ignoring the pang of melancholy slithering into my bloodstream, I snatch a sweater dress in my favorite color—lavender—from the rack, holding it up to my sister-in-law. The pale hue would look amazing with her complexion and fiery-dark hair color. The dress is adorable with a cowl neck and a waist that flares out, kind of reminding me of some type of mod frock from the sixties. Pair it with some leggings and bam!—you’ve got the perfect fall outfit.

  “Oh, you think he was ecstatic when he found out at the diner? You should have seen him last night after we put Willow to bed,” her voice lowers to a suggestive whisper.

  “Valley!” I shriek. “No. Just—No. You cannot, under any circumstances, tell me sex things about my freaking brother. How many times do I have to say it?” I shake my head.

  “Sorry,” she replies defensively. “What do you expect? You’re my best friend. Can’t help it…” Her gaze floats over the dress. “And I’ll take that.” She snatches the garment from hand.

  “I figured you’d like it,” I smirk.

  “I’m going to need some looser fitting items. I read, with your second child, you start showing more quickly.” She plucks another sweater from the rack.

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  The front door dings and I see someone entering the store out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t otherwise acknowledge them. I’d hate to cost Aunt Pam business just because one of the local haters happen to see I’m here and take off running in the opposite direction.

  “Speaking of which, how is Lo liking the idea of being a big sister?” I arch a brow at Valley before glancing over at A
unt Pam and Lo, who are both still obsessing over potential fashion finds.

  She sighs, shaking her head slightly. “Let’s just say, so long as it’s a boy, I’m in the clear. She specifically requested I give her a baby brother, or she’d be very angry with me,” she perfectly imitates the voice Lo whips out when she’s being cross.

  “A brother? I thought little girls prefer to be around other little girls…”

  She nods her head. “Uh, me too. But her reasoning is she doesn’t want to have to share her pretty bows and outfits with anyone. If she has a brother, he won’t need any of that.”

  I burst out giggling. “She’s just a little spoiled I think.”

  “And who did Gray and I just have a talk with about doing all that?” she deadpans, giving me a stern, motherly look.

  “You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” I scowl. “You know good and well I’m not the only culprit at hand.”

  “Hm. That’s true,” she agree half-heartedly, reaching for something on the rack. “Here, this looks like you.” She hands over a black leather jacket with spiked studs on the shoulders. “It’d look hot with those ripped up black jeans you just bought.”

  I willingly accept, holding up my palm in the air until she slaps me a high-five. “Fuck yeah, this is the best find I’ve seen in a while.”

  Valley shakes her head at my childlike antics.

  “So, have you thought about doing the whole dating app thing anymore?” Her voice takes on a nervous lilt, like there’s a reason she’s asking besides just to make small-talk, her brows pulling together.

  “Why?” I ask slowly—cautiously.

  One of her slender shoulders raises almost imperceptibly, then drops.

  “I just think it couldn’t hurt anything. I mean, you could kind of get to know someone online without actually having to meet them until you want to. You could start out as friends, just chatting. It’s probably easier than you think, especially if you list your interests and choose one of the apps that measures compatibility about things like that. Then…”

  I hold up my hand to silence her.

  “Wait just a minute.” I’m side-eyeing her with full suspicion now, my hand finding my hip. “Why are you suddenly trying so hard to sell this?”

  Her berry-tinted lips curve slightly, but she says nothing. In other words, she’s damn guilty of something.

  “You already set up a profile didn’t you? Jesus. No one is going to be interested. It’s not going to make me feel better about myself, or make me have a sudden change of heart if that’s what you’re thinking. Dudes are going to scroll on past, in search for the blonde bimbo who looks the most promising. Or…the only dudes who will be interested, are going to want one thing only. They’ll see colorful hair paired with tattoos and think I’m all about free love or something…” I glare at her, and she has the gall to roll her eyes at me again.

  Do I even really care if they’re only interested in sex though? Because I sure as Hell am not looking to dive into any type of relationship unless it’s purely physical.

  She purses her lips in displeasure, her brows lowering in conflicted contemplation. I know this look. It’s the one she gives when she’s trying to decide whether or not to tell me something. Her lips pop open with a huff, the apparent signal she’s about to give it to me straight.

  “Maybe you’re right, but I think you’ll be able to weed through the genuine men from the horny bastards.”

  I don’t overlook the fact she’s talking in present tense as if it’s already been decided, and it takes about 2.5 seconds for me to figure out why.

  “There’s already been, like, four or five guys requesting private message chats with you. And two of them are serious contenders if you ask me. Look,” she pulls her phone from her purse and begins pulling up the app. “This one—his screenname is Dr. Daniel—is a pediatrician. He’s a blonde-haired, blue-eyed hottie who loves sports and kids. What’s not to love? And look at that smile…” Her fingers land at the screen, spreading apart in order to zoom in on Dr. Daniel’s pearly whites, before furiously swiping through his pictures, leaving me with no choice to admit he’s fucking hot.

  “Oh, he is nice,” I agree, my interest piqued. “But I don’t see where it says he loves kids or sports on his profile.”

  “Lyra, he’s a pe-di-uh-trician. It’s implied. And he’s got a killer set of abs and a sexy smile complete with straight and white teeth. Again, the sports thing is implied because, how the hell else would you get a body like his without being athletic?”

  “True…”

  “And, this other guy. We can’t forget about him,” she states, holding up a finger.

  “What’s this app again?” I ask as she’s pulling up this other contender she thinks she’s found for me.

  “Qpid’s Contenders. The matches you receive are literally called contenders. Oh, and your profile name is CuteN’Colorful.”

  I groan. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  “Probably because you’re super adorable, and I hate to tell you, but if you didn’t want people to think you were colorful, you shouldn’t have gotten tattoos and a bright-assed hair-color. But wait. Who else said it?” V asks in confusion, cocking her head.

  “No one,” I grumble. “Can’t I change it?”

  She smirks, shaking her head, a hint of triumph lighting up her eyes as if she knows she has me.

  “Nope. It’s yours to keep. Once you’ve set up the profile and gotten your first match, you can’t change it.”

  “Then I’ll make another.”

  “Suit yourself. Just know, it took me two hours to set it up, and I know how you get fed up with that type of stuff pretty easily.”

  “You suck,” I glare at her.

  “Here’s the other one. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. You know, the whole generic she-bang us women look for in a dream guy. He’s a lawyer…”

  I cut her off. “Nope. He’s out. No more lying, cheating, scumbag lawyers. He’d be out of his element with CuteN’Colorful anyway…”

  She laughs. “Duly noted.” She clicks on a big, red button with an X, and Mr. Scumbag disappears from sight. “But I think your profile name’s catchy. And I didn’t put any pictures with your actual face in them. I figured you could decide if you wanted to be adventurous enough to do that.”

  “I never said I was going through with this at all,” I remark pointedly.

  She shrugs. “Yeah, but you will. I think you’ll enjoy the mysterious bit of fun. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get one of those amazing happily ever-afters like you’re always reading in your romance novels. Oh, or like on You’ve Got Mail.” She sing-songs, grinning all cheesy-like.

  I huff just as her phone pings again.

  She holds it up in victory excitedly before shoving it at my face.

  “Nope,” I turn my head. “The only thing that could warrant that reaction from you is if Gray is sending you dick pics again.”

  “Shut up. Like I’d be showing you. Look. You’ve got a special request.”

  “And that is?” I pop a stick of gum in my mouth.

  “It’s when someone organically runs across your profile, and requests to get to know you. But…Qpid’s Contenders prides themselves on being an expert match-making service, so they have to run the two profiles for compatibility before they’ll even consider sending it on through. In a way, I think someone who puts in a special request might be more sincere in wanting to know you than someone you’re initially matched with.”

  “It’s probably some middle-aged man who wants to try his luck with a young, wild looking girl…” I sneer.

  “Let’s just see, shall we?” She clicks the big green button to approve the request. “His profile name is BiggestContender. Hopefully he’s not overcompensating,” she laughs, then sobers instantly when she opens his photos. “Oh girl, he is fine with a capital F-U-C-K,” she whisper-shouts. “I mean, he’s one of those who’s shy about putting his entire face on there and such, but there�
�s this shirtless shot of him at the beach and, well, see for yourself.” She turns the screen to show me the shot, and hello V-cut. With tanned and defined abs, he’s carved from some natural bronzed stone.

  Yeah, there’s no way this many hotties are interested in me…

  “It’s probably not even a legit picture of him,” I snort.

  “It has to be. They make you include your State photo ID when you set up your profile. I used your expired license. I took it from your car last week,” she admits sheepishly. “Anyways, you can only upload pictures with your face in them into their system so that they can run facial recognition. Then, you can your pics however you want them to be seen by the general public when you put them up on your profile.”

  Her phone pings again, and she hands it over with a huge smile on her face.

  There’s a message.

  BiggestContender: Hey there, CuteN’Colorful.

  That was fast. My fingers hover as I contemplate messaging him back, deciding to settle on a simple and concise response just to test the waters.

  CuteN’Colorful: Hey back, BiggestContender. What’s up with the profile name? Thought you needed to overcompensate for the areas you might be lacking?

  Okay, so I maybe didn’t stick to the keeping it short and simple plan. Or maybe I’ve just been kept in a state of high-and-dry for way too long, and all I can focus on are potential package sizes. Sue me.

  Floating dots appear to indicate he’s typing something back and a tiny shot of adrenaline torrents through my system, surprising me. I’m eager to see what his response will be.

  BiggestContender: Not what the profile name was in reference to. More like, “biggest contender” for winning your heart…