Perfectly Imperfect Page 5

  That’s the one thing I’m not too happy about—the impending snow that will make it so I can’t ride my motorcycle. It was the same in New York, and I hated it then, too. In New York, though, I took public transportation back and forth to school. That isn’t an option here. “So, how will I be getting to school?”

  “You can drive my truck.” He grunts again and then slides out from under the truck. “Bryan wants me to drive the company truck anyway. Says it will help promote the business.”

  “Cool.” I love Dad’s truck. It’s sleek black with a custom grill, three-inch lift kit, tinted windows, and a killer stereo.

  “We’ll put your bike in storage the beginning of November, okay?”

  I nod. Dad resumes working on the truck. I sit and watch for a little while. Then, I hop off the stool. “All right. I’m heading home. I’ll save you some pizza.”

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  I slip out the side door, get on my bike, and head home. Our house is five minutes from the shop, so it doesn’t take me long to get there. The small, single-floor ranch sits several hundred feet back from the road, and the driveway is lined with trees, most of which have already lost their leaves. I park right in front of the porch, jog up the steps, and let myself inside.

  A wave of heat blasts me in the face. Dad must’ve forgotten to turn down the thermostat. Again. I adjust the temperature and then head to the kitchen to find the money he left. After looking up the phone number for the local pizzeria, I call and order a large pizza with pepperoni, bacon, and mushrooms. Then I grab the remote from the coffee table and flop down on the couch. The first couple of weeks in a new place always sucks. I have no friends to hang out with, and I don’t know the area well enough to go anywhere. So, watching television it is.

  I’m flipping through the channels for the tenth time when there’s a knock on the door. My stomach growls. Tossing the remote on the couch, I stand and go to the door. When I swing it open, my jaw drops. “Vick?”

  “Oh, hey, man.” He holds up a pizza box. “Looks like I’m your delivery boy.”

  “Come in.” I step aside so he can enter and close the door behind him. “I didn’t know you worked at Parker’s Pizza.”

  “Someone’s gotta pay for my surfing addiction, and my parents won’t.”

  “There’s surfing in Michigan?”

  “Not really. But I spend summers in California with my grandmother.”

  “Oh. Right.” I nod. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Um…” He pulls the pizza from the warming bag and reads the receipt taped to the top of the box. “Twelve sixty-four.”

  I hand him the twenty. “Keep the change.”

  “Dude, thanks.” He pockets the money and hands me the box.

  “Wanna slice?” I call over my shoulder as I head toward the kitchen.

  “Sure.” He follows me and leans against the counter. “I’ll just say I got lost looking for your house.”

  I open the box and inhale the smell of melted cheese, sauce, and meat. My stomach growls again. I grab a slice and nod at the box. Vick reaches in and takes one, too. “Want something to drink?”

  “Nah.” He takes a large bite.

  I do the same, savoring the taste. I didn’t know how hungry I was until right now. Finishing the slice in a few large bites, I reach for another. “So, is Parker’s hiring?”

  Vick raises a brow. “Why, you looking for a job?”

  “Maybe.” It might get my dad off my case.

  “Yeah, I can ask the big boss.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now that I know where you live, I’ll have to come hang out,” he says.

  “Yeah, any time.” If my Dad is going to be working late, I might as well find someone to hang out with. And Vick is friends with Isabelle, so maybe if I hang out with him, I’ll get to see her more, too. “So, what’s up with Isabelle and Cam?”

  “What do you mean?” He finishes his slice and licks sauce from his finger.

  I hand him a napkin. “Are they serious?”

  Vick flips his head to the side to get his hair out of his face. “They’ve been together almost a year, so… yeah? I guess.”

  Well, that could be a problem. “Cam seems… intense.” I finish my second slice and then grab a can of soda from the fridge.

  “He likes things a certain way. But he’s a nice guy. His dad is a pastor.”

  Of course, he’s a pastor’s son. No wonder Isabelle likes him. I refrain from rolling my eyes. Any crazy notions I have about winning her over are shot. I can’t compete against the pastor’s perfect son. Sure, I still believe in God, but I won’t step foot in another church ever again. And knowing Isabelle carries around a Bible? Yeah, I don’t stand a chance with her.

  “He’s good for Isabelle, too,” Vick says.

  “How so?”

  “Well, after…” Vick looks down at his feet. “After Isabelle lost her brother, Cam and his family were there for her. I’m not sure she would’ve made it without him.”

  I narrow my eyes. “So, that locker in the senior hall… the one that’s decorated like a shrine? That’s Isabelle’s brother’s locker? And he’s dead?”

  “Yup. He died in a pretty nasty car accident in May.”

  “Oh.” There’s so much I don’t know about her. Her reaction to me teasing her about the Bible makes a lot more sense now. She’d said it was her brother’s. Now I really feel like a jerk for making fun of her for it.

  Vick wads up his napkin and tosses it in the trash can.

  “Nice shot.” I give him a high five.

  “Anyway, I gotta get back to work. Thanks for the food.”

  I follow Vick out the front door. Regardless of what happens with Isabelle, Vick is a nice guy, and I can see us being friends. “We should hang out tomorrow,” I say as he opens his car door.

  “Yeah, sure. I don’t have to work, so I’m free.”

  “Cool.”

  “See you in school tomorrow.” Vick waves, gets in his car, and disappears down the driveway.

  I stand outside for a moment, watching squirrels race up and down trees. This place is going to be my home until I go to college, so I might as well make friends. And Vick is a good guy. If only I can get Isabelle off my mind… but I have a feeling nothing will be able to make me forget her. A strong breeze ruffles the tree limbs, and I turn to go back inside.

  #

  When I arrive at school the following morning, the student parking lot is full—again—and I consider driving up the sidewalk and parking at the bike rack. If I’m lucky, Isabelle will be there to scold me again. The thought makes me smile. I loop around the lot a couple of times and find a space at the end of a row. It’s not technically a parking spot, but it will do. I pull in and kill the engine.

  “Grayson!” Brittany waves at me.

  “Hey, Brit. What’s up?”

  “How was your first night in Michigan?” She falls into step beside me as we walk toward the school.

  I’ve been in Michigan for almost a week now, but there isn’t any reason to say that and embarrass her. “Not bad. Hung out with Vick. Ate some pizza. Watched TV. Pretty boring, really.” I hitch the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder.

  She scrunches up her face. “I wasn’t kidding yesterday when I said hanging out with them is social suicide.” She sneers the word “them” as if it’s the most disgusting thing ever.

  I sigh. “They’re actually really nice.”

  “If you say so.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “A bunch of us are hanging out after school. You should totally come.”

  “Uh, yeah, maybe.”

  “We usually go to David’s house. He has a pool table in his basement.”

  “I’ll let you know.” I don’t want to turn her down again, but I already made plans to hang out with Vick. And I’m not going to listen to her tell me how lame he is, either. I’ll come up with an excuse later and tell her I can’t go. We walk into the school, and the halls are aliv
e with chatter and laughter.

  “Oh, there’s a big party at the lake this weekend. You have to go.” Her blue eyes twinkle.

  I don’t have any plans for this weekend, and I really don’t want to be stuck in my house while Dad works. Plus, if it's a big party, maybe Isabelle will be there. “Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

  “Great! So, see you at lunch?” she asks, hopeful.

  “Definitely.” I smile, and she blushes. I can sit with her and her friends at lunch—it will be better than watching Isabelle and Cam.

  “Great.” She beams a bright smile and then walks off toward her locker.

  I head toward mine, gather my books, and make my way to Spanish. As I approach the classroom, my heart races. I can’t wait to see Isabelle.

  “Hey, Grayson.” Vick slaps me on the back.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I have to cover a shift at work today, so I can’t hang out.”

  I frown, sincerely disappointed. “Another time, then.”

  He nods. “Boss says to come on in and talk to him about a job.”

  My eyes widen. “I will. Thanks.”

  He grins. “I have the whole weekend off. We’ll hit the lake. I’ll show you the basics of surfing.” His laughter is swept away by the crowd as he walks to his class.

  Shaking my head, I open the door to class. Isabelle is already seated, like a gift from heaven above, set right in front of me but meant for someone else.

  7

  ISABELLE

  I HOLD MY BREATH AS Grayson pulls out his chair and sits. He’s wearing his leather jacket with dark denim jeans and a green button-down shirt that makes his eyes pop. His hair is once again messy, probably a result of being windblown from riding his motorcycle. I bet his hair is soft—it looks soft.

  “Morning.” He grins, and my traitorous heart beats double time.

  “Run anyone over this morning?” I pray my voice doesn’t betray me the way my heart does.

  “Nope, but if you need to tell on me again, I did park illegally in the student lot.”

  I bite back a smile. “Clearly telling the principal didn’t help, so maybe I should call the police today.”

  “Wow. That escalated fast.” He laughs.

  I laugh, too, but it’s cut short when Señorita Guzmán calls the class to attention. In flawless Spanish, she tells us to work with our partners to write a rough outline to turn in by the end of class.

  “So, did you do any research last night?” Grayson asks. He pulls out a sheet of paper and writes our names at the top.

  That’s all I did last night after Cam left. And cry. Really, trying to search for Spanish speaking countries through tear-filled eyes is no easy feat. I gave myself a wicked headache and had to take four aspirin just to get rid of it. But, at the time, I needed the distraction. Praying wasn’t helping. “I have it narrowed down to Argentina and the Dominican Republic. Do you have a preference?”

  Grayson tenses and doodles on the corner of the paper, refusing to meet my gaze. He shrugs one shoulder.

  I tilt my head and study him. What did I say to upset him? I tentatively put my hand on his to stop him from ripping a hole in the paper with how hard he’s pressing on it with the pen. “Grayson?”

  Slowly, he looks at me. His expression is guarded, and I immediately miss the spark in his eyes. “I’d prefer to do the Dominican Republic.”

  “Okay,” I say, drawing out the word.

  “I don’t have very fond memories of Argentina, okay?” His tone is clipped, and there’s no question in my mind that this topic is off-limits. And that’s okay—I get it. There are certain topics I don’t want to discuss with him, either. Like Brandon. It’s refreshing to have someone in this school who didn’t know him, or the me before he died. With Grayson, there’s no expectations, no pressure. I can breathe around him.

  “All right, that’s okay.” I clear my throat and pull my hand back. But my curiosity is piqued. “I was thinking we could focus on Santo Domingo. It will be easier to research a specific city rather than an entire country.”

  “Yeah, I’m cool with that.”

  “Okay.” I shift in my seat, suddenly very uncomfortable. I hadn’t meant to make him sad or angry or whatever he’s feeling right now. We spend the rest of class going over the items we need to research and dividing the work equally. When the bell rings, I gather my stuff and walk out with Grayson. Then, I come to a complete stop. Cam is across the hall waiting for me. My face heats with shame, although I’m not sure why. I’m not doing anything wrong.

  “Guess I’ll see you later,” Grayson says, glancing between me and Cam.

  Once he’s out of sight, I weave across the now crowded hall and stop in front of Cam. Butterflies are having a rave in my stomach. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up… I prayed last night that Cam would change his mind. Seeing him here now, my hope skyrockets.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “You didn’t tell me the new guy was in this class with you.” The disgust in his tone dashes my hopes.

  “I didn’t realize it mattered.”

  He crosses his arms. “Do you like him?”

  “What?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice. “I mean, yeah. I guess. I barely know him. He seems nice, though.”

  Cam rolls his eyes. “You realize you chose him over me and Hannah, right?”

  I sigh. Why is he being so weird about this? Why does he even care anymore? “It’s not like that. You know I’m planning to major in Spanish in college. I need this class. It’s not my fault the school changed the schedule.”

  He looks down at me, his brown eyes devoid of emotion. “I’m sorry. There’s just something about that guy that bugs me.”

  “He’s harmless,” I say, even though I’m not sure I believe that. Not that I think he’s dangerous in the way a gangbanger or murderer is dangerous, but he is dangerous to my sensibilities. He makes me forget all about the girl that Cam wants me to be, and I’m just… me, the me I used to be before my brother’s accident. I haven’t been this person in months, and I forgot how much I like her. That’s not a bad thing. It’s also not something I can explain to Cam because he won’t understand.

  “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says, suddenly more interested in his shoes than me.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Good. I need to get to class.” Cam smiles, but I can tell he’s forcing it. I hate how awkward things are between us. He spins on his heel and rushes down the hallway.

  #

  The morning progresses much more smoothly than it did yesterday. I don’t see Cam again until lunch. When I walk into the cafeteria, he’s already at a table in the corner, and I reluctantly make my way toward him. If there were anywhere else to sit, I would gladly take it, but the cafeteria is full, and sitting outside is out of the question. Despite the sun, the wind is whipping around fiercely. You can do this. Maybe I should sit outside. Maybe the wind will carry me away from here, away from all the grief and pain.

  Laughter to my right snags my attention, and that’s when I see Grayson sitting with Brittany and her friends. Anger, hurt, and betrayal ignite in my chest. It's stupid, I know. Grayson can sit with whomever he wants. As I pass his table, he looks up and smiles, showing off the dimple in his left cheek. That smile makes my heart race and my knees weak. I lift my head and keep walking, refusing to acknowledge him while he’s hanging out with the one girl in this school I can’t stand. I choose a seat next to Hannah. Cam barely notices me before he returns his attention to Nolan. Sports talk again, no surprise. He’s one to talk about choosing personal interests over our relationship.

  I’m crazy to sit here with my ex-boyfriend like this, but if I don’t, people will know something’s wrong. And no one needs to know. Not yet anyway.

  “Want to stay over at my house this weekend?” Hannah holds out her bag of chips, and I take one even though I’m not hungry. “My dad and brother are going on some camping trip with their wild
erness group, and Mom hates being in the house alone. So, I’m inviting you and Andrea over to hang out.”

  At the mention of Andrea’s name, Cam looks up. He meets my gaze and then quickly looks away. I refocus on Hannah. “Yeah, sounds fun.” I take another chip. Maybe there’s some truth to the whole eating your feelings thing. “Speaking of Andrea… where is she? I haven’t seen her at all the past two days.”

  Cam looks up again. I glare at him. What is his problem?

  “Yeah, I don’t know.” Hannah takes a drink of water. “I texted her to ask about coming over this weekend.”

  “I miss her.”

  “Me too.” Hannah sighs.

  “Are we going to the beach party this weekend?”

  “Of course.” She laughs as if I’m crazy for even asking. In my defense, we usually avoid parties because we don’t like the people who go—namely, Brittany and her friends.

  I look around the cafeteria, and my gaze is drawn to Grayson. He’s looking at me, too, and I feel a blush erupt on my face. I can’t understand why he’s sitting with them, especially when he’s spending all his time staring at me.

  Hannah leans closer and follows my gaze. “He’s so hot,” she whispers.

  “Hannah!” I slap her arm and laugh.

  “Hey, I’m just admiring God’s fine handiwork.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  “Me, too.” I let out a dreamy sigh and tear my gaze from him. “He’s nice. Funny. You should talk to him.”

  Hannah scrunches up her face. “Girl, please.” She rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t seem to realize there’s anyone else in this cafeteria but you.”

  “Shh.” I pray Cam didn’t hear what she said. Thankfully, he’s still completely enthralled with whatever Nolan is saying.

  “Oh, we’re going to talk about all that”—she wags her finger in Grayson’s direction then in Cam’s—“this weekend.”

  I shake my head in what I hope is a you’re-crazy-there’s-nothing-to-talk-about sort of way, but she smirks in that knowing way she has about her. I don’t think Hannah is buying it. I can’t hide the break-up from her for long, but I’m not going to talk about it right now, either. I don’t want to cry in front of Cam. Again.