Page 98 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“Kai!” Milo calls, sliding open the back door. “Dad wants you to help rotate the mattress in the guest room.”
My lip upturns. “Why do I have to do it?”
Alfred, Milo’s ginger cat, does a figure-eight around his legs. Milo picks him up and replies, “I’m busy, and he wants you.”
“And it needs to happen right now?”
“Mom wants to freshen up the room before Grandma and Grandpa come to visit.”
Milo walks away, leaving the front door open. I slide my foot under the soccer ball and flick it into the air and catch it. I make my way into the house, knowing Milo will have a fit if I leave the door open and his precious feline wanders out of the house. He only leaves the door open when he wants me to hurry up.
I dump the soccer ball by the closed back door and wander in behind Milo. I look down at my arms and still can’t believe I carried Tabitha. It’s weird, but I can still feel her. Maybe it’s her perfume that’s rubbed off on me.
I shake out of the thoughts, but Tabitha’s dad doesn’t budge. I can’t even decide how I really feel about this girl, and her dad is getting in the way. The worst thing is, if he tells me to get away from his daughter, it’ll make me want her more. Not that I want her, but I’d do anything to spite Dr. Jones.
He called me a menace. He hasn’t even seen me at my worst.
Ha. Maybe I’ll be such a gentleman to his daughter just so I can smack that smug look off his face.
“Kai?” Milo asks, snatching me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay? You seem spacey.”
I shrug it off. “You interrupted me from breaking my juggling record. I hate when my concentration gets broken.”
“Pfft.“ Milo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. That’s why you’ve been patched up so many times. You have such good concentration.”
“Kai!” Dad’s voice sounds from somewhere near the guest room. “Today, please!”
Every year, our grandparents visit for our birthdays. Like always, Mom likes to make a fuss with new bedding and sprucing up the guest room. Dad tries instructing me on how to best flip the mattress, but I got it from here. I’m a lot less delicate than I was when I held Tabitha against me.
Ah. Tabitha.
“Malakai!“ Mom screeches her way into the guest bedroom, and my good mood implodes.
I drop the mattress, and Dad grunts against the extra weight. “What?”
“Don’t what me!” she yells, waving her phone in the air. “Dr. Jones just called me.”
My heart is in my stomach.
“About his stitches?” Dad asks, heaving the mattress. “Kai, grab that end.”
“No,” Mom says and then sighs roughly. “Apparently, our son injured his daughter.”
“Oh, that’s bull,” I yell, dumping the mattress.
“Kai! For goodness’ sake, give me some warning before you do that,” Dad complains.
“Sorry but not sorry,” I blurt. “Mom, Dr. Jones doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“So you didn’t argue with him in his driveway?” Mom asks accusingly.
“I only defended myself,” I say, stepping away from the haphazardly positioned mattress.
“I warned you about your friends following your lead,” Mom says heatedly. “Now you’ve gotten poor Tabitha Jones involved.”
“All Dr. Jones saw was me carrying her home.”
“Why were you carrying her home?” Mom asks incredulously. “You’re not supposed to do anything to damage your stitches. Gosh, Steve, why did you rope Kai into moving the mattress?”
