Page 84 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
“Surely your stones are enough, Kenzie,” Mom says.
She’s dressed up nicely with her hair hanging in long waves over her shoulders. I helped her pick out a moss-green knee-length dress and matching sash-like belt. She looks pretty in it, even if she is annoyed with me.
“I’m not sure anything is going to be enough.” I huff, moving on to the hallway and then the tiny guest bathroom.
I told her that I almost told Hayden the truth, so she demanded that I invite him over for dinner. She wanted to “meet the boy who’s causing all this turmoil in her child’s life.” Her words, not mine. It was either this or I call him right then and come clean. Just the thought of doing that was too much—it was overwhelming to the point I almost fainted. So naturally,I took option B, although now it seems like it might have been the worse of the two. Plus, why does Mom want to meet him, knowing what she does? She isn’t going to say something, is she? No! Please don’t! The idea immobilizes me for a good ten seconds before I can regain control again. I have to finish purifying the house. He’s supposed to be here in—I check my watch—five minutes.
“Why are you so worried about me meeting him?” Mom asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. There’s no way in hell I’m admitting I think she might betray me like some Judas. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m overreacting. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Well you’re stressing too much, mein Schatz. He’s just a boy. You’re young, and you’re even stressing me out.” She follows me down the hall into the kitchen as I put out the remaining smolders. “If you can’t admit you lied to him, maybe tell him you need a break. Or do you actually like him?Anddoeshelike you too?”
She saysandbefore I can speak, but I think I do know the answer to both questions, or well, sort of. After last night I might be a little more conflicted. He’s still drop-dead gorgeous, but he’s not exactly what I had thought. A little more into himself than I admittedly care for, but he’s not a total ass. He’s neither of the extremes I’d seen before last night. He’s somewhere in the middle with maybe a few extra tethers to the confident end.
But doeshelike me? I think I know the answer to that. Sure, he’s into guys and girls and theys, and yeah, he’s even making an effort to like me, but it’s still no.
“I mean, yeah, I do,” I say.
“That wasn’t the most convincing from you,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes and check the lasagna baking in the oven. The cheese is melting nicely, and the garlic and tomato aroma wafts through the tiny opening.
“I-I don’t know.”
She looks at me with this expression that saysah I’m sorry, so I look away and snatch the dishes from the cabinet. I drop each to the table with a high-pitched clink. They’re not theniceplates, but they’re some of my favorites. Pure black, square with rounded edges. They appear to be made from obsidian, but they’re not.
The truth is I don’t know what I want anymore. Weeks ago I wanted Hayden. Now I “have” him, and I’m horrified because it’s all a house of cards built on an ignorant mistake. I think part of me still does like him. Maybe, but there’s Zach now. I didn’t know him before. I didn’t even know he existed, and he managed to make me feel more important and seen in a week than anyone I know has in my entire life. But he’s Hayden’s brother. It’s like some bad porn skit, except my clothes are staying on and I’m not getting caught with either of them because both of them are going to hate me when they realize the truth.
A knock comes at the door and I freeze. My eyes lock on Mom and she simply grins. It’s a smile that says so much.I love you. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.Oh, but I’m going to worry—a lot.
“I’ll get it,” she says, and I rush to take the lasagna out of the oven so the breadsticks can get going.
“Ouch,” I yelp as my finger slips and touches the bottom of the pan. I pull my finger to my lips and kiss it like it’s going to make it stop burning. “Just get the bread,” I tell myself, and place the individual breadsticks I prepared earlier on a new pan and slide them into the oven. If nothing else, there will be bread.
The door creaks from around the corner, and I listen as Mom says hey.
“Hello, Mrs. Jackson,” comes Hayden’s voice. I take a deep breath. “It’s great to finally meet you. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but…”
“Hey, Mrs. Jackson!” Another familiar voice rings around the corner.
“I brought Zach with me, he sort of begged.”
“That’s okay,” Mom says.
Excuse me?
My eyes bloom into the widest circles as I hone in on the entrance to the kitchen. First around the corner is Mom, then Hayden looking sober and nervous with a small bouquet of the sweetest little pink camellias, and then Zachary with a massive grin on his face.
“Hey, Mackenzie,” Hayden says, and comes straight up to me with his arms out like he’s going to hug me.
I freeze. “Hayden, thanks for coming.”
His arms wrap over my shoulder and side, and he gives me a tug while I pat his back, making sure my arms don’t touch him. Oh my gods, this is freaking awkward. Finally he lets go and turns back to Mom.
“And these are for you.” Hayden hands her the camellias.
Uh…okay. Not going to lie, I thought those were for me.
