Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) (19 page)

Chapter Sixteen:
What Kind of Name is That, Anyway?
 

The rest of the week has been pretty uneventful. I have spent most of my time lazily relaxing by the pool with my nose buried in a book. I did manage to deepen my tan to a rich brown color, while breezing through three and a half books.

Sam and I have talked every night before bed. We have been shooting quick, flirty texts to each other throughout the day, too. Much to my relief, he has not mentioned anything about my night with Trevor. Avery didn't really bring it up, either, which makes me wonder if Trevor has already told her all about it.

I haven't talked to Trevor since he dropped me off Sunday night. I've thought about calling him to thank him, but have decided not to, because that is something you might do after being taken out on a real date. Despite my nagging conscience, I refuse to accept that it was anything other than two friends hanging out.

I have pulled up his Facebook page a few times, just to see if he has posted anything new. Unfortunately, he has been as MIA as I have been all week.

The good thing about having some distance from Trevor is that I feel like my head is back on straight again. I don't feel confused about our friendship anymore. I keep reminding myself that Trevor has just been a little distraction. Sam is a great boyfriend, and I'm totally into being with just him. I only wish we didn't have to sneak around in order to be together.

It's already Thursday afternoon. I can barely sit still because I know that Sam and Kyle will be walking through the front door any minute now. Sam texted me this morning, before his first class, just to let me know how excited he is to see me tonight.

I am wearing my new floral, spaghetti-strap sundress. The neckline looks a little bit like the top of a heart. There are three little coral buttons that run in a straight line along my ribcage. The flowers are huge bushels of vibrant, stylized, coral peonies. I'm pretty sure this print was plucked right out of the sixties, because it looks just like something Don Draper's wife would wear on
Mad Men
. I am wearing a turquoise blue statement necklace, and my saddle tan and turquoise color-blocked wedge sandals with it. Avery helped me pick out my outfit. She seemed pretty confident that Sam would like it, too.

It has been another scorching hot day today with temperatures well into the upper nineties, and the heat index was close to one hundred and seven degrees. It was so hot that I could barely stand even being out by the pool. Being in the water wasn't much better. It felt more like bath water than the cool, refreshing haven it usually is when I'm laying out.

Mom and Dad are out with the Maddoxes tonight. They went to an early dinner followed by a concert. They have front-row seats to see Coldplay.

It's kind of weird having parents who listen to some of the same kind of music you do. I'm pretty sure half of our school is going to the very same concert, but I doubt many of their parents are going. I'm actually surprised Kyle isn't going. I'm pretty sure Coldplay is one of his all-time favorite bands. He and Dad even went to one of their concerts together a few years back.

The sound of Kyle's Civic pulling into the driveway sends a fresh batch of butterflies swimming into my stomach. I've been relatively calm all week with our frequent text and phone conversations, but seeing Sam in person is a whole other thing. I realize that I am sitting here all dressed up and ready, just waiting for my boyfriend to get here, even though we don't have a real date scheduled. Our
meet me in the garage for the sequel to our hot Sunday afternoon make-out session
isn't exactly a date in my book.

Maybe sitting here like this looks a little too anxious. I'll run upstairs to hide out in my room, so I don't appear desperate. Sam probably wouldn't think that, but we are still so new in our relationship. I read in one of my magazines that a girl should try to create a certain amount of intrigue in order to keep her guy interested.

I am scaling the last two steps when I hear the front door unlocking. My heart is pounding so loudly now that I almost can't hear beyond the loud clamor. I close my door, plop down onto my bed, and toss a couple of throw pillows to the side.

I pull out my iPad to look at the latest Instagram posts. My door is open, so Sam can come find me. I'm not sure he will right away, with my brother lurking around, but I still hope he does.

Avery has been posting new pictures every day this week. I should really keep up more with Instagram. I always feel like I'm late to the party when I finally check them all out. I let days go by, allowing the alerts to pile up, while everyone else seems to be on it all day long, every single day.

Avery and I hung out here, swimming together all day on Monday. Sure enough, there is already a picture of the two of us sprawled out on the lounge chairs by our pool in nothing but our bikinis. I groan because next to Avery, I just look like a lumpy, disproportioned freak.

I wonder what else Avery has been up to, because she has been incognito for the rest of this week. There are a few pictures from Monday night after our day in the sun. She apparently went out with some of her friends from her church that I barely know. They were at some sort of small get together at some guy named Pete's house. I rack my brain trying to remember Pete, but I don't think we've ever met. He's not tagged in any of the pictures, either. He probably goes to her church, too.

On Tuesday, she went on another date.
What?
She didn't tell me she was going out with anyone. My heart sinks a little at the thought of her going out with Trevor.
He wouldn't take her out again, not after our conversation on Sunday, would he?
He told me he didn't want to lead her on, and I believed him.

There are two pictures of her and Trevor. They are holding hands the same way couples do, standing in front of a statue in the first one. I assume they are at the Westbrook County Park, right outside the Westbrook Greenbrier Museum. His arms are intimately wrapped around her waist in the second one. My stomach drops when I see this. He is holding her the same way he was holding me on Sunday. In both pictures, he appears to be completely smitten with her.

Could I have been right? Is he really just a player?
No matter how hard I try to convince myself of this, there is a part of me that just can't accept it. I know it's because of his eyes. They seem so honest.
How could he possibly look at me in that way and lie to me?
It just doesn't make sense. Then again, neither do these pictures.

An overwhelming sense of rage builds deep in my stomach as I study these photos.
What the hell does he think he is doing with her?
The urge to fire off an angry text to him washes over me.

Before I am able to do anything I could regret, I am interrupted by shuffling noises in Kyle's room. I toss my iPad aside, and peek out my door into the empty guestroom.
I wonder where Sam is
.

"Hey
brother
." I try to say this in a high-pitched, happy voice, the same way Buddy from
Arrested Development
does, as I lean against Kyle's doorframe. He seems too busy shuffling clothes around frantically between his bag and his closet to appreciate my attempt at humor.

"Hey, lil sis," he finally says half-heartedly, without so much as a glance in my direction. Being an avid
Arrested Development
fan like me, I had expected my brother to come up with a more clever retort.

"Are you in a hurry to be somewhere, Kyle?" I ask, while folding my arms across my chest.

"Yeah, I have a da . . . ." he starts to say, before quickly correcting himself. "I scored some last-minute tickets to the Coldplay concert tonight. I need to get ready since it's in St. Louis."

"Coldplay? You
do
know that Mom and Dad are going to be there tonight, right?"

"Yeah. So will about twenty thousand other people, Laila. The chances of us running into each other are pretty slim. Plus, it's not
my
fault Mom and Dad don't listen to age-appropriate music."

It's funny how much my brother and I think alike.
Sometimes, it feels like he is stealing the words right out of my head
.

"So, how many tickets did you get?" I ask, not wanting to make it too obvious why I’m asking.

"Two and sorry, lil sis. I am not taking
you,
" he replies with his typical sneer.

"I wasn't asking because I want to go,
jerk.
"

He squints his eyes at me, and sticks out his tongue like a little boy.

I just roll my eyes. "So, who
are
you taking?" I ask, still trying a little too hard to sound casual.

"I'm taking . . . my friend." There is a definite pause before he says
friend
. This means that he is probably taking Georgia, but I still need to know for sure, in case it is Sam.

"Well,
no shit,
Sherlock
. I figured you would be taking a
friend
. My question is which
one?
"

"Why do you
even
care?
" He throws a fresh polo over his head, before spraying some cologne on. Actually, he sprays a whole lot of cologne on, and it is so strong that it makes me cough.

"I don't. Not
really
. Sorry, I was just
trying
to talk to you, which you are clearly
not
in the mood for. I will leave you alone. By the way, you might want to wipe some of that cologne off,
Casanova
," I just about choke my words out sarcastically. "It's suffocating."

He glares at me.

"What? I'm just
trying
to help you. If your
friend
is a girl, she might gag if she has to sit in a car with you."

I feel something warm and damp hit the back of my bare shoulders, as I turn to leave.

"
Gross
, Kyle. Now, I'm going to need a shower. No wonder you have to wear so much
stupid
cologne."

I fire his sweaty t-shirt back at him. I'm still
dying
to know if Sam is going to the concert with him, but Kyle is being his usual
asinine
self and won't dish.
I have no idea why any girl would ever want to spend time with him
.

I glance hopefully across the hall, but the guest bedroom door is still propped open, and the light is still off. There are no signs of Sam. He isn't anywhere downstairs, either.
Did he change his mind and not come home with Kyle?

I check my phone to see if I missed any of his texts or calls. There is nothing. I haven't talked to him since this morning, which is strange, because he usually texts me all throughout the day. I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can't seem to shake.

Kyle rushes down the stairs, pausing only to snatch his keys and phone off the foyer table.

"Later,
loser
," he says, while messing up my hair. I lean away from him, and shoot him a dirty look. "If Mom and Dad beat me home, let them know I’ll be late. We're going to a party after the concert."

He doesn't wait for me to respond. The front door slams shut. The sound of his car humming fades away before I can even catch my breath. I shoot Sam a quick text.

Me: Where r u? I thought you were coming home with Kyle for the weekend?

I sit down on the love seat, holding my phone like it's a Magic Eight Ball that will suddenly reveal why Sam is MIA.
This is ridiculous.
When did I become
that
girl who waits by her phone to hear from a guy? I guess when
that
guy became my boyfriend, who hasn't bothered to call me to tell me he isn't coming home for the weekend. I'm trying hard not to get angry with him, but as the minutes pass by without any answers, it's getting more difficult.

I grab the remote in search of a good distraction, as the nauseous feeling in my stomach spreads. It's just hanging there, weighing me down, like a pile of rotten eggs.

I am channel surfing, trying to find something that will help take my mind off of Sam.
Summer television completely blows
. It's always old reruns of shows that drive me crazy, like
Cougartown
, or old movies that I've seen a thousand times before. Plus, there is nothing I hate more than trying to watch a movie when you are interrupted with countless commercials. It really upsets the flow, making it impossible to get immersed.

I flip through the channels endlessly, until I finally settle on watching an old episode of
Friends
. It's the one where Rachel is wearing a cheerleading costume, to try to impress this guy she likes. It's pretty funny. I can't help but relate, because I would have probably done something that stupid, in order to get Sam's attention.