TMI (11 page)

Wrong! This was so wrong
.
Meg inhaled a breath for courage but made the mistake of looking at Chase's smile and she couldn't do it, couldn't say the no she should have said and instead took his gifts with a mumbled thanks. She moved to the bistro table a couple had just vacated, leaving behind a wad of napkins and straw wrappers. Impatient, she swiped them to the floor and peeled the cellophane from the notebook.

It wasn't a notebook. It was a comic book pad. Every page had blank panels for artwork plus ruled lines for bubble text. Meg dumped the pencils on the table and grabbed one, fury guiding her hand while the image in her mind clashed with the one in her heart.

Bold splashes of color.

Thick black lines.

Meg drew like she was possessed. Maybe she was.

“Wow. This is cool.” Bailey startled her and Meg jolted, scattering pencils all over the floor.

They bent to collect them while Chase grabbed the pad and stared at Meg's sketch, his forehead creased.

“Is this what you see?” he asked quietly.

Meg crossed her arms and angled her head, considering him. “Yeah, that's how I see you.”

She'd wanted to piss him off, so she'd drawn him with an exaggerated squareness to his jaw, jagged edges to the soft hair that always hung just right and his eyes—Meg didn't bother getting the colors right. She just tossed them all into the mix, wedges of radiant color emphasized by dark downward slashes of eyebrow—all fierce and ready to leap off the page.

“Not me.” He tossed the pad on the table and pointed to the blob in the lower corner. “You.”

He stared at her, waiting for an answer Meg refused to give. Finally, he sat back down with the pad and the pencils and sketched, looking up at her every few moments.

Meg's jaw dropped.

“I didn't know you liked to draw, Chase,” Bailey said, pulling up a chair and dropping her swag bags to the floor under the table.

“I'm a man of many talents,” he murmured, and she giggled.

Meg didn't know Chase could draw either.

“Sit down, Megan.”

Meg shifted her weight to one leg and made a sound of impatience.
How
could
I
not
know
this
about
him?

“Sit. Down,” he glared.

Fine. With a heavy sigh, Meg sat, arms folded. She refused to look at him and watched the crowd mill about the cavernous conference center. She should have known this. He knew all about her artistic aspirations. It…it's something that should have come up in a hundred conversations. It should have come up when they worked on their research project.

But he never told her. Meg dug her nails into her palms.

“Oh, Chase, this is
so
good,” Bailey gushed. “Don't you want to see it, Meg?”

“No.”

Bailey opened her mouth to push the issue and then paled at something over Meg's shoulder. Meg spun, saw Simon stroll by, his arm slung over Caitlyn's shoulders. He spotted Bailey, tensed, but then turned away.

“Come on, Bay. Let's leave.” Meg put her arm around Bailey.

The train ride home was tense and quiet. Meg stared out the window at the neighborhoods blurring past, wishing she had the colored pencils and the pad in her hands. Bailey texted on her cell and Chase sat opposite her, one leg propped on Meg's seat, his eyes shut.

He looked so different with his eyes closed.

Flat.

Impassive.

Ordinary.

Those motley eyes of his opened, caught her checking him out, and suddenly, it was like God breathed life onto the canvas. Meg flushed hotly and turned back to the window.

Chase chuckled once.

Bailey texted.

The scenery blurred.

A few hours later, Meg dumped the conference swag on her bed and collapsed next to it, feet screaming. Her eyelids slipped closed, and just when she was about to surrender to a much-needed nap, Meg remembered Chase's sketch pad. She stared at it for a moment. Oh, hell. She flipped it open to her angry rendering and gasped.

Chase had reshaped the faceless blob she'd carelessly scribbled for herself. He'd added in defiantly crossed arms under an overly generous chest that made her snicker. He'd drawn the mousy brown hair that fell in front of serious eyes. But he'd angled the eyes so that they stared up at his from under spiky lashes.

To the image she'd sketched of him, he'd reshaped the face so that instead of the grimace she'd drawn, he now smiled warmly at the blob that used to be Meg, one arm extended, as if in invitation.

He'd drawn
them
.

Meg ripped the page out of the notebook with every intention of crumbling it into a little ball she could pitch into the wastebasket. Instead, she carefully folded it and tucked it under her pillow with a rueful laugh.
Look
at
me, wishing for impossible things.

Foolish and futile.

Bailey dumped bags of conference swag all over her bed and wondered where Chase had found that comic panel pad. That would have been cool to buy. She could have used it for game design. Speaking of Chase, she twirled a curl and thought about the way he and Meg had acted today. Meg was mad. No, that's not right. She was off-center. She'd been hyperaware of Chase, her eyes tracking him throughout the venue. Bailey doubted Meg was even aware of that. Something was different—it was like their connection had gotten stronger somehow. When had that happened? She should have paid closer attention, but she'd been so caught up with Ryder and keeping him a secret that she'd neglected Meg.

Bailey hoped that hugging Chase at McDonald's that night was what—finally—opened Meg's eyes. She rubbed her hands together. Now all she had to do was get Meg to admit her feelings for Chase.

It wouldn't be easy. Bailey laughed, amused by her understatement.

She paused in her swag-sorting and then grabbed her phone when inspiration struck. She didn't even bother to text. She just called Chase.

“Hey, what's up?”

She had to play this just right. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Oh, no sweat. I had fun—”

“No, not I-CON. I wanted to thank you for taking care of Meg and for baking that incredible cake.”

Chase's voice got a little deeper. “She was pretty upset with you.”

There it was. “I know. I'm glad you were there for her when she needed you. So…thanks.”

“I didn't do it for you.”

Bailey didn't doubt that for a second. “I know. I got a little dazed. It's hard not to,” she admitted.

Chase groaned. “Okay, spare me the details. Just, you know, don't leave her out, okay? She worries about you and that really bugs her.”

Oh, does it? Bailey grinned and did her best to sound solemn. “I promise.”

She ended the call, tossed the phone to her bed, and paced, wondering just how many ways there were to make Meg mad enough at
her
that she'd turn to Chase for comfort. It had worked once and it could work again, especially now that the door had been opened. All she needed was a way—

She froze when an excellent idea hit her. Oh, this would seriously fry Meg's bacon. Could she be this devious? Bailey picked up her phone and texted Ryder.

Bailey:
Hi!

Ryder:
So how did u like I-CON?

Bailey:
Awesome! Met the
Zelda
team.

Ryder:
NO WAY!

Bailey:
Hand to God! Got autographs, got some samples. It was cool. Wish you could have come with us.

Ryder:
Yeah, me 2. Woulda been perfect 1st date.

Bailey pressed both hands to her mouth. First date? Oh, God, could he be any cuter?

Bailey:
Why perfect?

Ryder:
'cuz u luv gaming

Bailey:
Yeah, but what about you?

Ryder:
1st dates R 4 impressing the girl

Bailey:
LOL. Tell that to my 10th grade BF. He rented a movie.

Ryder:
Lame!

Bailey frowned. It wasn't lame, not really. Andrew, the tenth-grade love of her life, heard her say how much she'd wanted to see that movie about the guy who travels in time, so he'd rented it and invited her over.

Bailey:
No, it was pretty great. Until it wasn't. Just like last BF.

Ryder:
Wasn't?

Bailey:
Yeah, stopped being great. Stopped trying to impress me. Stopped caring.

Ryder:
Then he's a loser

Bailey:
No, he's really not. Things just didn't work out.

Ryder:
U miss him

Bailey:
No, I'm over it.

Ryder:
I won't stop trying 2 impress u

Bailey:
You know what would impress me? Meeting you IRL.

Ryder:
I know. I'm trying. Meg still pissed at you?

Bailey:
She doesn't trust you, but she's trying.

Ryder:
I swear, I'm a good guy. Want me to tell her?

Bailey:
You'd do that?

Ryder:
I'd do anything for u :)

Bailey:
Yes! Xoxo

Ryder:
Txt her nmbr. Xoxo back :)

Bailey sent Ryder Meg's number and wondered how long it would take Meg to erupt all over Chase. Maybe she should give Chase a heads-up. She bit her nail, weighing the options, and finally decided not to get his hopes up in case Meg didn't vent on him. She happily turned her attention to sorting through the rest of her conference swag, reliving the day. It was perfect—except for seeing Simon and Caitlyn. And why was Caitlyn even there? It was so pathetically obvious that she didn't know anything about gaming, but there she was, hanging off Simon's arm like a cheap accessory. She pulled in a deep breath, forced herself to stop thinking about them. She'd gotten all this free stuff like autographs and had even met the
Zelda
developers—who cared about Simon? She thought about the tall blond guy she'd met in the autograph line.

He was there with his dad.

The dad was outrageously excited to be there. He knew every game and character name. The guy wasn't that excited—she could tell—but he was there, hanging out and busting his dad's chops. A sad little smile formed on her lips. Would her father have gone to I-CON with her? He would have, she believed. He would have geeked out and tugged her from booth to booth, introducing her to people he knew because he was a bigger gamer than she was. She'd have inherited her mad skills from him. She was sure of it.

The computer beckoned her. She logged on to the classmates website where she'd registered as her mother and checked for notifications. A few messages awaited—long-lost pals looking to reconnect, a plea for donations from the alumni group, and a form letter welcoming her to the site. She'd hoped that the guys her mother had let go might see her name, reach out, and say hi.

That would be a good starting point to locate her dad.

At the sound of her bedroom door opening, Bailey spun in her chair, barely managing to hide the window and look nonchalant.

“Mom, hey. Um, you look nice.”

Nicole frowned at a sheet of paper in her hands. “Bailey, what's this?” She thrust the paper under Bailey's face.

Crap. It was this month's credit card statement. She hadn't expected the fee for the classmates website to show up so quickly. But there it was. “Oh, that's nothing. I just wanted to stay in touch with some of the seniors leaving this year. You know, like Chase?” She twirled a lock of hair and smiled.

Nicole folded her arms and angled her head. “Try again.”

“Mom—”

“Bailey, I got calls this week from two different people I haven't thought of in seventeen years and both mentioned how happy they were to find me after all this time.”

Bailey scrunched up her shoulders. “Oh.”

“That's it? ‘Oh'? Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”

Fine. She would do just that. She forced her shoulders to relax and dove in. “Okay. I'm looking for my father.”

Nicole's lips thinned and she sucked in a sharp breath. “You're
what
?”

“I want to find my dad.”

“You can't. I forbid it.” Nicole took two steps away and turned her back.

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Mom, I'm not four years old anymore. I want to find my father, get to know him.”

“What for? You're already too much like him.”

Bailey's mind went blank. It was just for a second. One brief second of numbness before her mother's comment slashed at her heart and she gasped at the shock of pain. “I bet you hate that, don't you? That's why you won't tell me anything about him. Because you're punishing both of us!”

Nicole spun around. “Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.”

That was the reason. It had to be. “Then why won't you tell me who he is?”

“God, Bailey, it's not that simple.” Nicole moved to her bed, sat down, stared at her hands. “I didn't want him to hurt you the way he hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Like hit you?”

Nicole put up a hand. “No. No, it wasn't like that.”

Her mother hiked up the skirt on her designer suit and tucked her legs beneath her on the bed. It made Bailey's breath hitch. She looked like a little girl. A sad, brokenhearted little girl.

With a jolt, she remembered Nicole wasn't all that much older than she was.

“Okay, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you. I just…need to know.”

Nicole said nothing for a moment. “Okay,” she said finally, holding up her hands only to let them fall back to her lap. “We met when I was fourteen. He was older. He wasn't like any of the boys in my school. He was…fun. Nothing ever bothered him, ever made him stop smiling.” Nicole raised her head, managed a brief smile. “Just like you. I loved that about him.” She stood, walked back to the window, and stared down at the street. “I did. I really loved him, Bailey. I loved him with every atom in my body. But he never took anything seriously. Everything was a game! School. Work. Life. Just one big party. Even when I told him I was pregnant, he laughed.”

Bailey listened. But honestly, she wasn't seeing the problem here. Her dad sounded great.

“I knew I'd never be able to count on him for anything more than just fun. I was sixteen years old and pregnant, and I needed more than that. I needed to know he'd be there for us, that he'd support us.” Nicole turned back and shrugged. “He wasn't.”

“What did he do?”

“He left town. I never saw him again.”

No. Damn it, no. Bailey's eyes filled. “That was years ago! Maybe he grew up and changed, you know? Matured. What does it hurt to just—”

“No!” Nicole's sharp retort had Bailey backing up a step. “I made my decision. If he wanted to find me, he could have…easily! I'm exactly where he left me.” Nicole stopped and took a deep breath when Bailey's lip trembled. “Bailey, I'm sorry. I can't. If you're determined to know him, I guess you're right. I can't stop you. But I'm not going to help you either.”

Nicole spun, left the bedroom, and closed the door with a soft click behind her. Bailey waited until she heard mom shut the door to her room and let the tears take her.