Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
ANNIE
“I seriously can’t believe my cousin is the tutor you’re sharing all that sexual tension with. I thought his heart was a cold, dead thing. I never guessed Miles could summon up any real passion for anything besides sarcasm and mean jokes.” Lainey shoves an aging pop star’s biography onto the shelf with more force than necessary.
I wince. “Be careful with the books.”
“Whoops.” She reins herself in and puts the next book—a classical musician’s memoir—away gently.
“Also, there is no sexual tension between Miles and me.” My whole face scrunches with disgust. I would never be attracted to someone so dismissive and rude. “I have a boyfriend. Your cousin is just my tutor. And I don’t have any prior experience being tutored, but I don’t think he’s even doing a good job of that.”
He’s not helping me fix any of my work even though he looked disgruntled after reading my essay. I’m not sure how he expects me to figure out the issues with my work by myself since I haven’t managed to accomplish that yet.
“Oh, right. Cameron the frat boy with a heart of gold.” She wrinkles her nose and side-eyes me with a judging look. She describes Cameron with the enthusiasm someone might use to describe their dirty laundry.
“Cameron might not have a heart of gold, but he is a good guy. He’s smart, too.” Sure, he isn’t always the nicest guy. He grew up with a pretty tough businessman for a dad and from what I understand, Kurt Hartford makes a better businessman than father.
Lainey nudges her book cart with her hip, maneuvering to the next case. “Annie, the guy doesn’t remember my name even though we have class together and you’ve introduced me to him nearly once a week since we met.”
Yikes. She’s not wrong about that. Cameron isn’t particularly good at remembering people. I’ve seen him call his big brother at the fraternity by the wrong name on at least three separate occasions.
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell Lainey. “I don’t want to defend him for that.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for him either.”
How can I argue with that? “You’re right,” I admit. About more than just the fact that I shouldn’t be apologizing. With every passing Friday night party, Cameron seems to become further removed from the charismatic nerd I first met in high school.
Needing something to do with my hands, I grab a few books from Lainey’s cart and start helping her put away books. Miss Diane doesn’t like me helping Lainey with her work-study duties, but I find shelving books to be soothing. After how my tutoring session crashed and burned, I can do with some mindless organization.
Lainey lets me get away with working side by side in silence for a few minutes before she circles back. She has a one-track mind now after catching me in the library with her cousin.
“You know… Miles is objectively brilliant. Much more your speed in terms of intelligence.” Lainey is doing her best to sound casual, but she’s clearly putting some thought into this idea. Considering I have a boyfriend—one who isn’t happy about my tutoring situation already—I need to cut her off before I risk someone who knows Cameron overhearing her and getting the wrong idea.
“Lainey, I’m happy with Cameron,” I remind her firmly.
Lainey holds her hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that I think there’s a hint of a spark there. So if the opportunity ever arose, I want you to know you have my full support to break the friend code and date a member of my family.”
She’s relentless.
“Can we put your tinfoil theories on pause for a minute? My phone is vibrating.” I set down the book I’m holding and slip my phone out of my back pocket just as a call from my mom ends. Sometimes she likes calling me in rapid succession to get my attention, but this time she chooses to text instead since she knows I’m at school.
Three texts from my mom buzz in rapid succession. I huff out a laugh as I read her succinct messages.
Starving.
Dinner?
Ed’s!
If only I shared my mom’s ability to be enthusiastic about anything, any time. Even something as simple as eating out for dinner becomes an exciting recreational activity with her.
My mom is kind of magical in that way.
“Hey, I have to get going,” I tell Lainey before she can start in on me again about Miles. “Early dinner with my mom. See you tomorrow!”
“You’ll never believe what I found out today.” I plop my backpack down in the corner of the booth and slide in across from my mom.
She looks up from studying the menu, even though she memorized the options years ago. Ed’s Pancake House is a staple of our diet. Where else could you order mini pancakes as an appetizer, Pad Thai for an entree, and churros for dessert?
“Oh, here comes Wanda.” My mom gives our favorite waitress an excited little wave. “Wow, we’ve missed you.”
“You were here twice last week,” Wanda reminds her.
“Twice?” I echo, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at my mom. “I only ate here with you once last week.”
Mom smiles sheepishly and gives a halfhearted shrug. “Oops?”
Wanda snorts. She’s familiar with our usual shenanigans. I don’t care that my mom ate at Ed’s without me; I like giving her a hard time over something silly every once in a while. If you ask me, she had things too easy raising a kid as well-behaved as me. She needs to be humbled on occasion.
“Mini pancakes?” Wanda looks between the two of us for confirmation. We almost always pick the same confusing three-course meal here.
“Actually…” Mom slaps her hand down over the menu. “Let’s mix things up. Let’s do churros first tonight.” She raises her eyebrows as she looks to me for confirmation.
I drum a little happy tune on the table. “Yes, dessert first please!”
Wanda shakes her head. “I’m not sure how the two of you stay so thin considering the way you eat. I’ll have the kitchen drop your churros.”
“Pilates.” Mom somehow manages a straight face as she says the lie. “We’re very dedicated to our Pilates routine.”
The only thing my mom is dedicated to is her definitive ranking of professional baseball player’s butts. Ranked by size, shape, and the amount of running jiggle.
“Seriously? Who would believe that?” I ask her as soon as Wanda leaves our table.
Mom squints her eyes while considering that question. “I think Pilates is a very believable lie if someone is meeting us for the very first time.” She glances down at her stomach and pokes her nonexistent abs. “Rock hard,” she announces unconvincingly.
“You’re practically Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.”
“Thank you,” she says emphatically. “You’re the only one who appreciates and understands me.”
“I’m not sure if that’s really a compliment.” I think of my mom’s mind as an interesting but terrifying place.
In the time it takes for us to debate the merits of my mom’s overactive, whimsical mind, Wanda returns with a red basket of churros, setting it down between us. “ Pilates. ” Wanda puffs out with a laugh. She shakes her head as she gives each of us two cups of sugary icing to dip our churros into.
“Thank you!” Mom and I say simultaneously.
She beats me to the first churro and dunks aggressively into the sickeningly sweet icing that we like more than the churros themselves. We’re pretty sure they take the icing out of a can and just add extra sugar. We can never get the same sugar ratio when we try to doctor up our icing at home.
Somehow, Mom manages to inhale two full churros before I’m halfway through my first.
Something behind me catches my mom’s attention. “Oh my gosh, look cool,” she whispers to me as she drops what’s about to be her third churro back in the basket.
“What?” I pause with a churro halfway to my mouth. I’m not sure I’ve ever looked cool a day in my life. Well, maybe that one time Mom got me a full Buzz Lightyear suit to wear for my first-grade pajama day instead of making me wear animal footie pajamas like all of my classmates.
“My hot boss just walked in,” she hisses.
I watch with a grin as she straightens in her seat, glances down at her shredded, black Madonna T-shirt that she changed into after work, and huffs, quickly reaching into her cleavage to hoist her boobs higher.
“He’s your boss, not an ex-boyfriend,” I remind her. I want to believe she knows better than to pursue a man she works for but honestly, I’m not sure considering she spent my whole childhood working as her own boss.
She scoffs. “A hot man is a hot man, Annie.” She shoots me her best disappointed look which is essentially a deep frown with wide eyes. According to her, keeping her eyes wide helps minimize the wrinkling she develops from frowning. “Don’t act like you can’t appreciate a good-looking man. I know what your boy toy looks like.” She wags her finger at me. “I’ve got your number.”
“Hannah?”
I look up and examine my mom’s new boss. I can see the appeal—he’s attractive in an older, rugged way. The kind of man who simultaneously looks like he pays taxes and chops his own firewood.
“Hey there, bossy man. Funny smelling you here!” my mom blurts out. As soon as the words are out there her mouth falls open as she leaves herself speechless.
I laugh under my breath as her chest breaks out in nervous, red splotches that peek over the artfully ripped collar of her shirt.
“Uh…” The boss looks over at me. “You must be the daughter.”
“That’s me!” I cross my arms and rest my elbows on the table. This is a fun interruption. “Annie,” I introduce myself.
“Luca Duffy. Is your mom always this weird when she’s out of the office?”
He must have a soft spot for her if he hasn’t noticed she’s weird all the time. No way is she sparing him her weird when they’re in the office. I’m a loyal daughter though. “Only when she’s hungry and hasn’t been fed a proper dinner on time.”
He looks down questioningly at our half-eaten plate of churros.
“Those don’t count,” Mom chimes in quickly. “We started with dessert tonight.”
“Right. Of course.” Luca’s attention goes squarely back to my mom. He seems to look her over with a keen eye. He leans over and chuckles before he quietly says, “I guess this explains why I keep catching you sneaking Poptarts before lunch.”
“How dare you embarrass me in front of my daughter like this?” Mom puts a hand over her eyes as if she can’t bear to look at us. “All the years of instilling healthy eating habits in my pride and joy only for you to ruin everything by telling my dirty, dirty secret!”
“Mom,” I groan. Even I have a limit for her dramatics and having everyone in Ed’s Pancake House turn in their seats to look at us because she’s being increasingly loud… This is my limit.
Luca tips his head back and laughs. Yep, he’s definitely indulging her personality quirks a little too well. Her new job is going to be doomed before the health insurance even kicks in once he realizes she’s a dating disaster.
“I’ll let you ladies get back to your dessert now,” Luca says. “I’m picking an order up to go for a late night. See you tomorrow, Hannah. On-time preferably.”
“Nice meeting you!” I tell him.
“You too.” He smiles warmly down at me, and his face looks so kind that I think I can put away a little bit of my worry about my mom for now.
I wait until Luca walks away toward the register at the counter to give her a disappointed stare. “On time?” I dropped her off on time today before I left for classes, since we share one car.
“I may have walked to the convenience store on the corner for gum before I went in this morning and lost track of time.” My mom is completely unashamed as she explains with an easy shrug.
There’s no telling what distracted her. One time I found her doing a puzzle in the toy aisle while she was supposed to be helping me look for unscented tampons.
I shake my head at her because what else can I do?
“Wait, what did you want to tell me when you sat down? The churros overshadowed you.” Mom grimaces at the realization and then smiles sheepishly.
I place both hands on the table and lean forward to whisper, “I went to the tutoring center for someone to proofread an English essay for me.” Close enough to the truth without admitting my failed assignment. “Turns out the guy they assigned me is Lainey’s cousin.”
“Luca’s nephew?” My mom’s mouth forms a perfect circle of surprise, and I nod. “Crap. You better make sure that little shithead doesn’t sabotage you instead! Oh, oh! Or maybe he’s only proofreading your paper as a ruse so that he can steal your work and pass the essay off as his own.”
My poor mom has no idea. For some reason, I feel a weird sense of loyalty to Miles that stops me from throwing him under the bus with my lie.
“He’s actually really smart,” I admit. “He wouldn’t need to steal a paper from me.”
“Whatever you say, my little Einstein.”
I bite into my churro as my mom launches into a long-winded story about befriending a cricket in the work bathroom today. I tune her out after the point where she gave the cricket two middle names and I let my mind wander.
Miles told me I’ll figure out what’s wrong with my essay. The question is how ?