Right Girl Wrong Timing (Offsides Book 3) Page 6

  “Ads, it’s not like that. I swear. I came to talk to you.” His voice cracks, and my heart clenches.

  “Sit on the bed.” I spin and face him. Austin strides over to my bed and has a seat.

  “I wanted to let you know that I might not be available after school this week. It’s not because I’m trying to stick you with all the work. I promise. I have some personal shit to sort out.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “It sure sounds like you’re ditching me.”

  He fiddles with the end of his shirt. “I’m not. I love spending time with you. This is important—otherwise, I would be here. I need you to understand.”

  I rise from my chair. “Oh, I understand.” If Rachel magically ends up missing, too, I know exactly what he’s doing. Not that it won’t hurt any less, but really, he could be honest about it.

  “You do?” he asks sounding a bit surprised.

  I fake a smile. “Sure.”

  He smiles back. “Thanks. You really have no idea what that means to me.”

  “Right, well, I’ve got work to do unless you need something else?”

  “Actually.” He pulls out a crumpled paper from his back pocket. He smooths it out on his pants then says, “I made this list of things we could possibly do.”

  I grab the paper and begin to read over what he had. “This says ‘I’m sorry. I love you.’” I toss the sheet at him.

  His cheeks color. “Uh. Shit. That was the wrong paper. I really do have ideas.”

  “I don’t care. Take that and leave.”

  “Adaline,” my mom calls outside my door. “Are you speaking to someone on the phone?” my door pops open, and I shove Austin into my walk-in closet and slam it shut.

  “Uh, no. I mean yes, I was, but I ended the call. What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if we could continue our discussion from dinner.”

  I scratch my head. “Sure. I guess.”

  She takes a seat on my bed. The same spot where the person I dream about night after night was just sitting. “I don’t want to put pressure on you honey, but I was hoping you’d at least check out these brochures that I picked up while I was at your school.”

  “You were at my school? Why?” I pretend to be shocked.

  She smiles. “I had a meeting with your guidance counselor.” She says this like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But we both know it’s not. “She informed me that you haven’t come in to pick up the next set of the ACT and SAT testing schedules. How many times do I need to tell you that you need a better score? She also told me that you haven’t collected any information about any colleges.”

  Wow. Mrs. Martin is such a rat. Worst of all, Austin is in my closet listening to every word. If I wasn’t a loser with a crappy name before, I certainly am now. I mean, really, whose mothers go and have meetings with their kid’s guidance counselors behind their backs?

  “I’ve been busy,” I say.

  “Too busy to worry about your future?” she asks, disappointment shrouding her face.

  I hate the look. It practically pierces my soul. I grimace. “I don’t know.” That’s about as real of an answer as I can give her. The truth is I’m terrified. Everything feels so final, and yes, I know technically on transcripts I’m a senior, but I don’t graduate until next spring. All these darn questions and blah blah blah in my ear—choose a school, pick a future—is really stressing me out. So much so, I swear a found a gray hair the other day. I can’t have gray hairs at seventeen!

  “What’s really going on here? Is it about that boy? I told you time and again boys will come and go. You can’t let them rule your future.”

  I refrain from rolling my eyes and groaning. I’m going to die of embarrassment if this conversation keeps on. “Yeah, I know, Mom. It isn’t about a boy. I’ll go to the office tomorrow and pick up some pamphlets.” It’s one big pack of lies.

  “Good.” She smiles and then leaves my bed. She kisses my forehead. “Preparation is key.”

  I paste on a smile and watch her leave. As soon as the door closes I wait a few more seconds then hurry over to my closet. Austin is tapping away on his phone, probably texting Rachel. Ugh. I shouldn’t even care. He looks up at me. “That was interesting. I thought I was going to have to spend the night in here. Not that I wouldn’t mind.”

  I glare at him. “Get out.”

  “I noticed some skirts in there; you don’t wear those do you?”

  What a jerk of a question. It makes me want to slap the sexiness right off his face. There is something in his voice that tempts me to ask him why he wants to know. I don’t say a word. I enter the closet and latch onto one of his defined arms and yank. He doesn’t move. I end up losing my footing and tumble right into him.

  He chuckles. “If you wanna check out the merchandise, Ads, all you have to do is ask.”

  I am about to snap off a comment, but his lips fuse over mine, stunning me. I know I should pull back, but I can’t. More like my body refuses. Instead, I press myself to him. His hand weaves through my hair, and I moan.

  His tongue slides along mine, and my back smacks against the wall. I press my hands against his chest and shove with all of my might. I’m probably going to regret breaking this wonderful spell, but it needs to come to an end.

  Austin blinks. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m really sorry.”

  “I know. Just go. Please.” Being rejected in person is straight awful.

  He lowers his lashes then says, “Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

  I don’t say anything. I just watch him leave, and I don’t know why it hurts so much.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Austin

  Of all the dumb things I’ve done in my life, this is probably up there. I royally messed up. What the hell was I thinking to lay one on her like that? I wasn’t thinking. Not exactly. I just focused on her mouth, and all the blood seemed to rush to my brain and ba-bam it happened.

  Do I regret it? No! I’d kiss her again in a freaking heartbeat. I shouldn’t have, though. She’s dating Greg. Then there is the timing—it’s way off. She needs to be feeling this as much as me. Next time, because there is definitely going to be a next time, everything is going to be right.

  I walk to my car, which I parked three houses away from Adaline’s, and get in. I didn’t pull up in her driveway for a few reasons. The biggest one: her parents do not like me. They expect her to be with someone who’s going somewhere. According to them, that’s not me. I never told Adaline this, but it’s another reason I backed off before the Valentine’s Day dance.

  I also can’t go in for the kill like that ever again. As amazing as kissing her is, I need to prove my worth. Right now, I’m practically jobless and probably going to be homeless by the end of the month if I don’t get work quick. I can’t fail again. Adaline deserves someone who has their shit in order.

  As I drive down the road my phone rings.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Austin, the electric company called. They’re—” she starts to sob hard.

  “Mom?”

  She sniffles. “They’re coming to turn it off unless we pay them eighty-five dollars right now. I thought when we transferred residence and we paid the initial fee it would be okay.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll fix this.” Shit! We don’t have that. We spent all our cash on the ghetto house, moving, turning things on, and stocking up on food. I can’t let her down again.

  “All right, honey. I get off at ten. I picked up an extra shift,” she says.

  I say my goodbye to her and head straight to the house like a bat out of hell. I cross the railroad tracks which is the divide between the good, middle class/upper-class community to the dirt poor.

  Ten minutes later I pull up to my house. It’s rundown with broken shutters, peeled light green siding, and missing shingles from the roof. There are holes in our porch due to rotting wood pieces, but we can’t do much about it. We’ve notified the landlord, but he doesn’t give
a damn. He just wants his rent by the end of the month.

  I pace the living room while on the phone with the electric company. I hate being poor. I hate living here in this shithole. I really hate when someone on the other end of the phone acts like they know what you are going through or is an asshole.

  “Yeah, I understand. Is there any way you can extend it until next week? I get paid Friday. Please,” I beg into the phone to the electric company.

  “Sir, I’m sorry we can’t do that.”

  I’m losing my patience. I want to break something. It won’t solve the problem I’m currently having, but it would make me feel better. “So, there is literally nothing you can do?”

  “Sir, I understand your frustration, but you are past due. If we don’t have the minimum of eighty-five dollars today, then we have to turn off your service.”

  I run my hand through my hair as I take another ragged breath. This can’t happen again. I squeeze my eyes shut. I told my mom I would take care of this.

  “Can you give me a few hours?” I ask.

  “We will be there at nine in the morning. That’s when the crew is scheduled to come to terminate the service.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I want to say “For nothing,” but I don’t think my attitude is helping. This is exactly why I should have never gone to that dance. My shitty choices are coming back to bite me in the butt.

  I hang up and try to think. Where the hell am I going to come up with the money I need before nine in the morning?

  “Tyler, I swear I’m going to pay you back.”

  Tyler stares at me for a second then shrugs. “Man, I told you to quit betting on dumb shit. It’s not worth it.”

  I nod. Yep. I fed him a bullshit story because as much as I like my best friend, I don’t need him feeling sorry for me. Pity is one thing I can’t take right now. Him looking at me like I’m an idiot, that I can handle. “You’re right. Thanks a million. You know I think those clowns at the club cheated. But whatever.”

  He slaps my shoulder. “I told you those Blackhawk jackasses will do that shit. Anyway, I know how you can make this up to me.” He hands me over the money I need. “After my party this weekend you’re going to help clean up.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Damn. Now I’m going to have to come.

  My phone rings in my pocket, and I think, Who the hell else can possibly ruin my already shitball of a day now.

  “Hello.”

  “Honey, I guess Gary and I got our wires crossed, I work more hours tomorrow, not tonight. Can you come by and pick me up?”

  “Yeah. I can do that. Be there in a little bit.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  I hang up and look over at Tyler. “It was my mom. Thanks again, man. If you need me to do anything else, let me know.”

  “Seriously, no problem.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, I owe you.”

  Tyler walks around his outdoor pool and follows me to the driveway. “I’m telling you, you gotta stop with the I-owe-you shit. You think I’m going to miss that money? I’m not.”

  I hate sponging off my friends. He knows it too. Whenever we were out for football or on the weekends hanging and I was short on cash, Tyler would always pay. He’d tell me I could get him on the next one, but I haven’t paid him for those meals. Shit, and with me gonna be out of a job, I don’t know when I’ll be able to.

  “Tyler!” his father calls from the front door.

  Tyler rolls his eyes. “And now I get to deal with Captain Asshole.”

  I glance over at Tyler’s dad for a second. He’s swaying a little, which means he’s been drinking. Tyler rarely says anything, but I think this is why he hardly drinks at his own parties.

  We bump fists, and I get into my car. I drive over to Gary’s diner where my mom works.

  Ten minutes later I spot my mom outside the diner. She looks sad, and I feel like it’s all my fault. Mostly because it is. She’s probably worried about the electric bill.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” I say as I exit the car and step up to her.

  She wipes her fingers under her eyes. “Nothing, honey. I promise.”

  I hug her tight. “It’s going to be okay. I got the money we needed.” I don’t tell her how. She loathes handouts as much as I do.

  She sniffles. “You’re a good kid.”

  I walk her over to the passenger side and open the door. After she’s in the car, I get in and take off. I inhale and say, “I gotta get another job.” I don’t want to stress her out any more than I have to, but I need her to know.

  My mom starts to sob a little more. “I never wanted this kind of life for you, Austin.”

  “I know.” I shrug. “It’s okay, though.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not. You don’t get to go on dates with pretty girls, hang out with your friends, or get into trouble like a normal kid, and I’m so sorry for that.”

  I turn down a street and sigh. “It’s not your fault. It’s Dad’s.”

  She remains silent. I never mention that jackass to her. I barely acknowledge he was alive. But the truth is, he deserted us and left us to fend for ourselves. Mom rarely talks about him. Doesn’t even try to reflect back on a good memory of him probably because that douche tainted every good experience the moment he disappeared.

  “He called me the other day.”

  “Who did?” I ask as I glance over at her. She frowns.

  “Your father.”

  I grip the steering wheel harder. My knuckles turn white. “Did you hang up on him? He doesn’t even deserve to hear you breathe, Mom.”

  “I didn’t. I thought about it. He asked about you.”

  That pisses me off more. “He doesn’t need to know about me. Not a thing. Next time he calls, tell him I died or some shit.”

  “Austin! Watch your mouth. We might be poor as dirt, but we don’t talk like uncivilized animals. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mom.” I pull up to our house.

  After I get the door for her, she says, “Maybe we should consider moving to a bigger city?”

  “I’m not leaving school. I’ve worked too hard. They won’t let me play football or basketball. I’ll have to sit out my senior year. No. We can think of something else.”

  I better think of something quick. I can’t have my mom thinking about uprooting me from my friends and Adaline. I won’t. I gotta figure something out and fast. What am I going to do, though?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adaline

  Between the switch from third to fourth period, I’m walking down the hall, and a person slams right into my side and tackles me to the ground. My hip hits the surface, and my art materials fly out of hands and into oncoming traffic. Pain shoots up my leg, and I groan.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. Ads, are you okay?” Austin asks.

  “I will be once you get off of me,” I say. Although I’m not sure that’s quite true.

  He locks his fingers around my waist and hoists me up. I dust off my pants and the side of my I’m a book lover t-shirt. “Thanks,” I say.

  “Here, let me help you,” he says as he starts retrieving my art pieces from the floor.

  People still cram the hallway. He’s huddled near a set of lockers fetching my things. I’m scanning the hall for items that got kicked away from us. I spot two. This serves me right for not carrying a backpack as usual.

  I’m halfway to the first item when I hear my name, “Adaline.”

  I turn, and it’s Chase. Chase hasn’t spoken to me since I rejected his offer on taking me to the Valentine’s Day dance. He’s my best friend, well, I’m not certain about that title now. He had a huge crush on me, which I was not aware of until he asked me to the dance.

  “Hey. How are you?” I ask.

  “Could ask you the same. I just saw Reed knock you over. Are you okay?”

  I smile. “I’m fine. I just need to get my art things.”

  He nods his blond head. “I think there are some markers over there.” He points to a p
ack on the floor near the trash can.

  I walk over to it and pick it up. I turn to say thanks, but he disappears. I sigh, grab the other item near the markers, and head back to Austin. The tardy bell rings just as I reach him.

  “Great,” I grumble.

  Austin frowns. “This is all my fault. Hold on. Maybe I can get us some passes.”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m already late. If you can’t find us any, then I’ll be in even more trouble.”

  “At least we’re heading in the same direction.” He hands over my sketches but pauses on one of them. It’s one I did of him when he was in my room and we were working on our history project together. I memorized the lighting and his facial expression. As soon as he left I sketched it all out.

  “What’s this?” he asks.

  I snatch it from him as my cheeks heat. “Nothing.” I start down the hall.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing. That was me.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” I pick up my pace and stuff the page at the bottom of my pile so he can’t look at it.

  “Yes, it was.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re so full of yourself. Why would I want to draw you?”

  His mouth is near my ear when he says, “Besides being hot, I have not a clue.” I turn a glare at him, and he smirks. “Why would you draw me?”

  “I wouldn’t.” At least not now. I step into our history class. Mrs. Dinger pauses with her pointer directly on the board and gives us a look.

  “Mr. Reed. Miss Frost. I’m so happy you could join us. As you know, class started two minutes ago. I’ll see you both after school. Go take your seats.”

  I walk over to my desk near the window, four seats back, and slump down. Rachel sits behind me in this class. She sighs constantly, to the point that it’s annoying. One time I made the mistake of asking her what her problem was, and she listed out all my flaws. From my so-called hair full of split ends to my height.