Page 81 of The Disasters of Dating
“When do I get to meet him?”
I raise my brow. “Maybe never.”
She frowns. “If he’s Chris Pine aesthetically aggressive, I need to at least meet him.”
“But do you?”
“Me thinks she doth protest too much,” Paisleigh says. “I’m doubting his aggressiveness.”
I roll my eyes. “Using what you learned in that Shakespeare class, I see.” But I relent. “Okay, fine. Let me see what the plan is when I see him tonight.”
“You’re seeing him tonight?”
I bite my bottom lip and nod. “He flies into Salt Lake pretty much every Sunday night and then leaves on Thursday. He stops by the shop every time he comes in or leaves.” I rub at the worn spot on Randy’s paw that has soothed me for more than a decade.
“Yeah, I definitely think he’s interested, Pops.” She twitches her lips to the side.
A knock sounds at my bedroom door, and my mom pops her head in. “Everything okay in here, Soda?”
I smack Pais in the arm and give her a look. “Yep. Just cleaning out my closet.”
“Hey, Paisleigh. How are you doing?” My mom asks as she leans against the door frame. I guess she’s planning to stay for a while?
“Good, Mrs. Ashcombe. How are you?”
A look flashes across my mom’s face, but I have no idea what it means. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was guilt. I raise a brow. I’ve seen that look before. And whereas last time I didn’t think she had anything to be guilty about, now I’m not so sure.
“Hey, Mom. You’ll never guess who I ran into at the store the other day.” This is how much we haven’t seen each other lately. I haven’t even been able to mention Margo Conway to her yet. I mean, we aren’t even eating dinner together. Hasn’t she seen the statistics about eating dinner together as a family? Does she not even care if I turn to drugs or gangs? That’s what eating together is supposed to help combat. And I’ve never seen an age limit on it, so I’m not buying the excuse that I’m too old. Is anyone ever too old to turn to drugs or gang life?
“Who did you see?” she asks.
“Margo Conway.” I give her a take-that look.
Her lips purse ever so slightly, and she blinks several times before looking confused. “Margo Conway? Wow. I haven’t talked to her in years.”
My mouth drops open. What the actual crap? Is she trying to make me think I’m going crazy? “You said you saw her the other day and were doing a food drive with her.”
My mom looks like she’s thinking, but then shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I said that. Maybe you misunderstood.”
Me misunderstanding, really? That’s what she’s going with?
“I don’t?—”
“Poppy, sweetheart, I think you hijacked the conversation I started with Paisleigh.” She gives me her mom look. The one that says she’s patiently trying to correct my bad behavior rather than punish it.
I squint at her, trying to detect any lies. Because if the last month is any indication, there will be at least one in this conversation.
I shake my head. I don’t like feeling this way about my mom. I shouldn’t be suspicious of everything she says. Why can’t she be honest with me?
I nearly slap my forehead. Wait a minute. I don’t have to wait for the lie. She already lied...about seeing Mrs. Conway and about me misunderstanding.
“How’s your family, Paisleigh? Isn’t your sister-in-law due to haveher baby pretty soon? I think it’s so interesting that Ben and Brody are going to have their second kid at almost the same time.”
I lean back against my headboard and cross my arms over my chest, blocking out the baby conversation. It’s not like Brody and Ben were best friends. They had been friends in elementary school but had drifted apart during high school—as people are wont to do. People who aren’t Paisleigh and me.
“I know. Kind of funny, isn’t it?” Paisleigh says in an it’s-not-really-funny-but-I-don’t-know-what-else-to-say kind of way.
My mom glances over at the stack of clothes on my bed. “Oh, Poppy, are you going to start wearing theclothes Grandma Alice gave you? I’m sure that will tickle her.”
