K.C. and I squared off across my pool table in the family room, and her frustration actually had me itching to laugh.

K.C. the Pool Shark. Who would’ve thought?

After school, and the episode with Tate, I’d cooled off at work and then headed home.

As I’d pulled into my driveway, I’d noticed a black Lincoln parked next door at the Brandts’ and had immediately groaned.

Tate’s grandmother.

Normally, I would’ve been pissed that Tate now had an adult around, interfering. But that wasn’t it.

Her grandmother was in everyone’s business and always tried to talk to me when she came to visit. I should’ve known she’d come to stay with Tate being on her own right now. I just hoped she didn’t stay long.

K.C. had come over around eight, and we were going on our fifth game of pool.

“You called the six,” she argued. “Not the six and the ten! You can’t put two balls in the pocket at the same time. You have to make the shot you call.”

“It’s called being awesome.” I shot back.

She scowled at me and twisted her lips up in frustration.

Her frustration was kind of cute, and she was a beautiful mess tonight. Her long brown hair, a shade

lighter than mine, was in a loose ponytail, and she had on no makeup.

If there was ever a clearer sign that a girl wasn’t into you, this was it.

“Fine.” I shrugged and put my hands up in the air, feigning annoyance. “Take your shot.” Her eyes lit up as did her bright smile, and she leaned down over the table to take her turn. Even though it was getting on to ten o’clock, I wasn’t in any hurry for her to leave.

She won four out of the five games we played, and I thought I’d have to go to the ER to get my balls reattached. I was interested in knowing how an uptight girl who couldn’t touch a single thing in Freshman Biology without saying “Ew” learned how to be a hard-nosed pool player.

We walked towards the living room, and I put my arm around her neck, gently pulling her in. “So I have to ask you something?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah, me, too.” I looked down at her. “You first.”

Plopping down on the couch, she stared at her hands in her lap. “I know you’re using me to get to Tate, Jared. To make her angry, or…” and she looked up at me, “jealous.”

My legs stiffened, and I didn’t sit down. Crossing my arms, I walked to the rain-splattered window and, out of habit, looked up to Tate’s darkened bedroom windows.

Don’t.

“Jared,” she continued, “I’m using you, too. I’m not even sure if I want Liam back, but I want him to know I’m not sitting at home waiting for him, either. That’s why I took you up on the offer to come here tonight. Tate said she was busy, and I didn’t want to stay home.”

I turned around and cocked my head to the side, peering at her. “You could’ve used any guy to make Liam jealous, K.C. Why me? You knew that it would hurt Tate if she thought you were hooking up with me.”

I could almost see her melt into the couch. Her face fell, and she slowly brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them.

“My mom is…,” she almost whispered, “overbearing.” She shook her head, like the word “overbearing” was too simplistic. “She picks out my clothes, checks my phone, picks my classes, and she even …” But her breath caught, and she choked back a dry sob.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 559