Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) (8 page)

"What time did everyone leave? How late were you up? What time did you get to bed?" She doesn't let me answer the first question before she moves on to the next. It makes me wonder just how many cups of coffee she has had this morning.

She piles the last of the pancakes on top of two tall, teetering stacks. When I look around the counter, I notice she has also made bacon, eggs, and hash browns. There are cinnamon rolls, fresh fruit, and a bowl full of ice with an assortment of flavored yogurt cups. It almost looks like a restaurant-style breakfast buffet. There is certainly enough food here to feed an army of people.

"I don't know. It was late. Mom, why is there so much food? Are we expecting guests for breakfast?" I ask, as my eyes rake over the gluttony of food selections.

"Actually, we are. I invited the Maddoxes to join us for breakfast. I was going to cook anyway, since Kyle and Sam are home. I figured they could use a nice home-cooked meal since they've been pent up in that stuffy hotel for the past week." She says
home
like Sam actually lives here, and this is his house, too.

Wait a sec
.
Did she just say the Maddoxes are coming over? As in Trevor Maddox is coming over here, like now?
This thought sends me into a panic. I wonder if he has read my texts yet . . . . I take a deep breath. Maybe he isn't even coming with his parents. After all, he didn't mention it in his text. I look at the kitchen table to see how many places Kyle has set. Sure enough, all eight chairs have plates, silverware, napkins, and glasses by them.

I take a deep breath. I'm not so sure I like the idea of having Trevor and Sam sitting at the same table.
It's just weird
.
It shouldn't be, though
. I mean, why can't I hang around my
sort-of
boyfriend, and my
sort-of
friend who is a guy, at the same time? Even if they are both ridiculously hot, and they both make my heart beat faster
. That's not strange, right
?

"Good morning, Lays." This is my dad's nickname for me.
Yes, like the potato chips.
Dad has a very corny, old-school sense of humor. He still makes me laugh even if it is cheesy and obvious, but I love that about him.

Being the smart ass that he is, Kyle says, "Yeah,
Ruffles
. Glad you could finally join the rest of the human population." He nudges me with his elbow, as he moves past me to grab the orange juice out of the refrigerator.

Dad pours some coffee into a mug, drops two sugar cubes and some cream in, and hands it to me. It's just how I like it. I smile.

"You look like you could use this." He smiles at me warmly, while pouring himself another cup.

"Thanks, Dad. You are the best." I yawn, realizing how tired I still am. I wonder if the dark circles under my eyes are showing.

"Where's the love, pop? You didn't pour
me
my own mug," Kyle whines at Dad, while mock pouting. Dad rolls his eyes, and makes his way to the kitchen table without bothering to acknowledge Kyle.

"You don't even drink coffee,
dork
." I tease him, and stick my tongue out.

Before I have a chance to dash upstairs and touch up my makeup, Sam saunters into the kitchen. His crystal-clear blue eyes are sparkling in the sunlight, and his damp, sandy-blond hair is tousled to the side. A big smile spreads across his face when he sees me. He discreetly winks at me before turning his attention to my mom.

I run my fingers across my lips, trying to remember what it feels like to kiss him. I try my best to fight the heat that is building on my face, but I'm pretty sure it's too late. My cheeks are probably ketchup by now.

"Good morning, Mrs. P. You made all this delicious food just for
me?"
Sam asks my mom sarcastically. Mom rolls her eyes, and playfully tosses a potholder at him.

"As much as I love you Sam, this is not
just
for
you
. We are having company." She snatches the potholder glove back from him and slips it onto her hand.

Sam looks at me curiously and mouths, "
Who
?"

Before I can answer, my mom explains to Sam who the Maddoxes are, and why she has invited them for breakfast. She doesn't mention Trevor specifically, but then again, why would she?

When the doorbell rings, my stomach muscles tighten. I look down at my hands, which are now visibly shaking.
Why am I so nervous?
Kyle jumps up to answer the door, which is a relief. I do not want to appear any more desperate than I already do. After that stupid text of mine from this morning, Trevor probably thinks I like him, and want to be more than just friends.

Sam settles into the barstool next to me with his own coffee mug. "Hey you," he says softly, nudging my knee lightly with his.

I look up to see if my parents are watching, but they aren't. Thankfully, they have no idea what is going on between us. It's kind of exciting to have our
sort-of
relationship be our own little secret. It makes it feel kind of wrong, even though I know it really isn't.

We're only two years apart. I will be seventeen in a month. If I weren't still in high school, nobody would bat an eyelash at the idea of us being together. In fact, my mother loves Sam so much that I'd bet she'd be thrilled to see us together. That is,
after
I graduate from high school.

I think about how Kyle once told me that most high school relationships don't last through college.
Does that mean we are destined to fail?
I have always thought of Sam as someone I could end up marrying, way down the road, the
after college
part of the road.
What if we weren't supposed to find each other yet?
Did I just spoil any chance I ever had of becoming Mrs. Woodson
?

I shake my head.
Here I go again, filling in the blanks, writing a future when the present has yet to be defined
. Avery lives life in the moment and doesn't over think every little thing the way I do. I'd really like to be more like her, and just let things
be
without over-analyzing every little detail.

"Why are you shaking your head?" asks Sam curiously.

His voice startles me a little, pulling me out of my little daydream, and back into the present. I had somehow managed to tune out everything and everyone around me. I didn't even realize that the Maddoxes were standing in our kitchen.

"Laila,
you-hoo
, earth to Laila?" Kyle waves his hand in front of me and snaps his fingers.

I sigh with frustration and glare at him.

"Are you even going to say hi?" he asks, with a snarky half smile sneaking on his face.

"Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Maddox, Trevor . . . Hi. I'm sorry. I guess I'm still trying to wake up." My eyes spot the full pot of coffee in my mom's hands. "I think I may be ready for another cup," I say while holding my empty mug up in the air. I flash a quick smile at Mr. and Mrs. Maddox before looking up at Trevor hesitantly.

Trevor's eyebrows perk up a little.  The corners of his lips turn up just enough to reveal his dimples. His parents smile at me warmly, before exchanging a look with each other that I can't read.

"Late night after we left, Patterson?" Trevor asks me. He keeps alternating glances between Sam and me. My eyes narrow at him. He doesn't know that our
sort-of
relationship is secret. I feel like my throat is closing in on me as the panic sets in.
What if he says something before we have a chance to tell my family
?

"Something like that," I mumble. "I mean I was up late reading after the party so . . . ."

It wasn't a complete lie. I mean I
did
read a little, after I spent
God only knows
how long, kissing Sam. My lips still almost burn when I think about how much we kissed.

Trevor nods in a kind of snarky way like he knows the truth. He looks irritated, and rubs his temples, as if he suddenly has a headache.
Why does he get to be the one who's irritated? Shouldn't I be the one who is annoyed? What a jerk for even asking that in front everyone.
He seems to know just how to get under my skin.

Sam discreetly places his hand on my thigh under the bar, in search for my hand. When he finds it, he gently squeezes, as if to tell me not to worry. He always seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. I don't think anyone notices this gesture, except for maybe Trevor. Okay, there is no maybe about it. Trevor definitely saw it, and his eyes seem to be burning mad now.
What on earth did I ever do to him?
Again,
I
should be the one who's mad at
him
, not the other way around.

Trevor excuses himself to use the restroom while everyone else gathers around the table. Sam sits to my left. Mom sits to my right with Dad next to her. That leaves Kyle on the other side, across from Sam.  Mr. and Mrs. Maddox are to Sam’s left, across from my parents. There is one open spot, directly across from me, in between Kyle and Mrs. Maddox. Trevor isn't gone long, but he seems much calmer when he returns.

"Sam, why don't you sit next to Kyle so Trevor can sit by Laila?" Mom says this, as if it were a given.
She can be so embarrassing
. Sam sighs under his breath, but he jumps up right away, because he'd do anything for my mom.

"No problem, Mrs. P." He flashes her a big
Sammy smile,
as he holds the chair out politely for Trevor.
This is just great
.
Someone, please shoot me now.
Can this breakfast be over already, so Sam and I can find a secret closet somewhere?
Just thinking about being alone with Sam, in a closet, makes me suddenly feel so hot that I have to fan myself.

"Are you embarrassed to sit by me, Patterson?" Trevor whispers to me playfully. I look at him as if I have no clue what he is talking about, because I have no idea why he would say such a thing.
Cocky much?
He clears his throat and swallows hard.

"It's just . . . your cheeks, they're just a little red. I thought . . . I was just playing around I didn't mean . . . ." His voice is soft enough that only I can hear him.
Thank God
. He looks at me one more time and then, shakes his head. "Never mind."

Even worse, now he thinks he just made me blush.
I silently curse my Technicolor cheeks, for yet again, betraying me at the most inopportune time.

"So Trevor, will you try out for any sports teams at Westbrook High?" Mom asks in an attempt to get the conversation flowing.

"I'll probably try out for the varsity soccer team this summer, and then hopefully, the baseball team in the spring. I played both at my school in Philly," Trevor says politely.

"Trevor was an all-star athlete at his school in Philadelphia. He was the best . . . ."

Trevor cuts Mrs. Maddox off before she can finish her sentence. "Ma, cut it out. I was
not
an all-star. You're
embarrassing
me."

He calls his mom Ma.
How cute is that?

"Well, I'm
sorry
. He
really
was quite good."

Trevor's warning glare hushes her for a moment. Then she just rolls her eyes, and is able to get in few words before he can stop her again. "He is
particularly
good at baseball."

He sighs before downing the rest of his orange juice.

"So, are
you
involved in any sports or activities at school, Laila?" Mrs. Maddox asks me, trying to redirect the conversation in order to appease her son.

"I do theater mostly, but next year I'm joining the newspaper staff," I answer after carefully chewing and swallowing my food.

"Newspaper? That sounds interesting." For whatever reason, this seems to pique Mr. Maddox's curiosity. Up to this point, he has said very little.

"Yeah, it is. I'm really excited about it. Our goal is to convert
The Panther Chronicle
from paper to a strictly online resource."

Mr. and Mrs. Maddox exchange looks, as if they are both either impressed or surprised.

"That sounds like quite an undertaking. I am curious, though. Why not do both?" Mr. Maddox asks me.

"We thought about it, but if we switch to online only, it will save a great deal, with printing costs being what they are. There would be no ink, and of course, no paper to buy." I feel like everyone is suddenly staring at me. "Plus, no paper means less trees will be killed."

"That sounds like a very economically sound decision," Mr. Maddox replies in an approving tone.

I nod. "In the process, I hope we can renovate the whole look and vibe of the
Chronicle
," I add.