Page 14 of Perfect Score
“Zoey, listen… you’re not the last resort–”
She holds up a hand between us to stop me. “Save it,” she says, rolling her eyes. ”Yes, I am, and you’re mine, but I don’t like the idea of lying to your grandmother, by the way.”
She knows Gran. Anyone I went to school with knows my grandmother. She never missed a single one of my events—hockey games, Eagle Scout ceremonies, pep rallies, graduations—pretty much anything Tessa or I were involved in, Gran was there to cheer us on.
Most of the families sat in the same section of the hockey rink bleachers and my grandmother always brought enough of her famous gooey brownies to share. Zoey sat near my parents too.
“She’ll never have to know. I’ll tell her we broke up amicably after the holidays are over. It’s a temporary truce, and you can keep the voodoo doll of me that you hide in your closet with pins in his heart.”
I hear a small giggle bubble out of her that she tries to hide. It’s not because I’m hilarious. The giggle is at my expense. She finds the idea of a Brent voodoo doll amusing.
That really speaks to how much she hates me, doesn’t it?
“If I had one, I wouldn’t hide it away in the closet.” She tosses back.
“Cute,” I say flatly.
The pilot comes over the speaker, breaking our conversation.
“Good morning, this is your pilot speaking. We just received the green light from the control tower to go ahead and taxi out to the tarmac for takeoff.”
I grip the front of the armrests when he says the word “takeoff”. I hate flying for obvious reasons, but even though I flya lot from town to town with the team, the takeoff is easily the worst part.
“I’ll be turning on the fasten seat belt sign soon, and we’ll be on our way,” he says. “It’s currently a pleasant sixty-six degrees in San Diego with a chance of some light showers, but current cloud cover looks like we’ll get a clear landing. We invite you to enjoy your two-and-a-half-hour flight aboard our aircraft. If there is anything you need, our flight attendants are available to assist you.”
“I bet they are…” Zoey mutters to herself.
I glance over at her, curious about that bitter-sounding remark, but her eyes don’t meet mine; she stares straight ahead.
There’s radio silence between us for a moment after the pilot finishes thanking us for choosing their airline. I get the feeling that she’s contemplating my offer, but I can’t take the silence. I need a distraction to keep from thinking about how soon I'll be cruising at an altitude of thirty-three thousand feet–without a parachute.
“So, what do you think? Do you want to make a deal or would you rather Phoebe order you the creepy clown boyfriend and call it a day?” I ask, giving one last nudge in my direction.
“Fine,” she says, clenching her jaw. “I’ll agree to this insane idea for this weekend only. And I’ll attend Gran’s birthday party with you, so that she won't play matchmaker. I wouldn’t mind seeing her anyway, and maybe she’ll finally give me that brownie recipe. But after we get home, you’re telling her that we broke up.”
“Her brownie recipe? You do know that Tessa has been trying to get that for years, don’t you?” I ask, knowing that my sister and Zoey know each other from high school even though Tessa was a few years younger than us. “She told Tessa that she put it in her last will and testament and that Tessa can have it after Gran is dead and buried.”
My grandmother has a sick sense of humor.
“Oh…” Zoey says, her face falling with disappointment.
I move on quickly. If my gran’s brownie recipe is one of the only reasons she agreed to this, I need to change the subject before Zoey cancels our arrangement.
“I’ll swing by and pick you up tomorrow at your hotel, and then we’ll head out to the retirement community where the party is being hosted. Can you be ready in the morning?”
“Wait… what? Why would you pick me up? Won’t you already be at the hotel?” she asks, finally unzipping the jacket she has on.
She has to be hot.
She’s struggling a little so I grab the sleeve closest to me and tug on it so she can pull her arm out. “Thanks,” she says in relief as soon as her first arm is free.
“No problem,” I say. “I didn’t book soon enough. But I have a room at a hotel right down the street.”
“Why?” she asks, her lips turning down in a frown.
Shouldn’t she be happy that she doesn’t have to bump into me all that much this weekend with me at a different hotel?
“Because the hotel was booked by the time I realized that the Hawkeyes schedule would allow me the time off I need to attend. The other hotel isn’t far, and I’m coming to everything. The welcome drinks, the ice skating, the rehearsal dinner and walk-through…”