Chapter 13
1177 Words
By Friday night, I had already changed outfits six times.
Which was six times more effort than I had ever willingly put into a boy in my entire life.
And yet, somehow, it still felt like none of it was right.
Too dressy and I looked like I was trying too hard.
Too casual and I looked like I had given up on life.
Too cute and I’d never hear the end of it from my sisters.
Too plain and I’d spend the whole night wondering if Landon Baxter looked at me and thought, Oh. She wears cardigans.
This was a nightmare.
A deeply embarrassing, self-inflicted nightmare.
And the worst part?
My whole family knew.
Not just knew.
Knew knew.
As in:
my sisters had become unpaid stylists,
my mother had become emotionally invested,
my father was pretending not to care while absolutely caring,
and Nathan had been unbearable since breakfast.
“This is huge,” Sierra said dramatically from my bed, watching me hold up two shirts like my life depended on it.
“It is not huge,” I said.
“It’s a first date with the hottest boy at school,” Stacy corrected. “That is literally huge.”
“I hate that sentence.”
“Which part?” Nathan asked from the doorway. “The hottest boy part or the date part?”
I spun around so fast I nearly hit him with a hanger.
“Why are you in my room?”
“Because this is funny.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
He leaned against the frame like a menace and crossed his arms.
“You know if he hurts you, I’ll have to kill him.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned. “Can every man in my life stop threatening violence for five minutes?”
Dad passed by the hall and pointed toward Nathan without even slowing down.
“He gets that from your mother.”
“He does not,” Mom yelled from downstairs.
“Yes, he does!” all of us shouted back.
For one brief, perfect second, the chaos made me laugh hard enough to forget I was about to go on a date with the boy who had completely hijacked my central nervous system.
Then my phone buzzed.
And every single person in the room went silent.
Like freakishly silent.
I narrowed my eyes.
“No one move.”
Sierra gasped.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
“Stop breathing on me,” I snapped, grabbing my phone off the bed.
Landon:
Be ready in 20. And wear something cute.
I stared at the message.
Then immediately felt my face heat.
Nathan lunged like he was in the NFL draft.
“What does it say?”
I yanked the phone to my chest.
“You’re all insane.”
“That means yes,” Stacy whispered.
“Give me the phone,” Sierra demanded.
“No!”
I clutched it tighter and backed away like a Victorian woman defending her honor.
Nathan grinned.
“He’s got game. I hate him already.”
I looked back at the text.
Then, because I had no dignity left to protect, I smiled.
Me:
You’re very bossy for someone I haven’t agreed to like yet.
His reply came instantly.
Landon:
You’re going out with me. You already lost the upper hand.
I stared at the screen for a full five seconds.
Then:
Me:
I can still cancel.
Landon:
No, you can’t.
Me:
Watch me.
Landon:
Grandma, please. You’ve spent all evening getting ready. Don’t waste the effort.
My jaw dropped.
I texted back immediately.
Me:
How dare you.
Landon:
Was I wrong?
I hated that he probably wasn’t.
And I hated even more that he knew me well enough already to guess it.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing in front of my mirror doing what I can only describe as panic breathing.
I had finally settled on a fitted black top, dark jeans, and my favorite boots. My hair was down in soft waves, and for once I didn’t completely hate the way I looked.
Which, naturally, made me more nervous.
Because now I had no excuse.
Now if this went horribly, I couldn’t even blame the outfit.
A knock sounded downstairs.
And then—
“Oh my God, he’s here!” Sierra screamed.
I physically flinched.
“Can she not do that?” I called.
“No!” she yelled back.
“Everyone act normal!” my mother shouted.
Nathan laughed so hard downstairs that I seriously considered faking my own death.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the stairs like a woman marching toward her execution.
The second I rounded the corner into the living room, I stopped.
Because there he was.
Landon.
Standing in my house.
Looking like every bad decision I would ever make wrapped into one devastatingly beautiful teenage boy.
He was dressed simply—black jeans, black boots, a dark charcoal button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, silver rings catching the warm light from our kitchen.
And somehow, in my very normal family home, he looked… softer.
Less untouchable.
More real.
His eyes found me instantly.
And for a second, the whole room seemed to go still.
He looked me over once.
Slowly.
Not in a gross way.
Not in a cocky way.
Just enough to make my heartbeat go absolutely feral.
Then he smiled.
And it was over for me.
“Hi,” he said.
That was it.
Just one word.
And somehow I forgot every single thought I had ever had.
“Hi,” I said back, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.
Nathan cleared his throat loudly from the couch.
“So,” he said, standing up. “What are your intentions with my sister?”
I shut my eyes.
“I’m going to kill you.”
Landon, to his credit, didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he looked at Nathan and said with terrifying calm:
“Currently? Dinner.”
Nathan barked out a laugh.
Okay.
Rude.
He was not allowed to charm my family.
That was not part of the deal.
My mother stepped forward with a smile that told me she was already emotionally attached to this disaster.
“Be home at a reasonable hour,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Landon replied.
My father looked between us, then pointed two fingers at Landon.
“I own dental tools.”
Landon nodded once.
“Noted.”
I covered my face with my hands.
“This is humiliating.”
“Aw,” Landon said beside me. “I think it’s kind of cute.”
I turned to glare at him.
“You would.”
He grinned.
And then he held his hand out to me.
Just casually.
Like it was nothing.
Like touching him wouldn’t immediately short-circuit every functioning system in my body.
I stared at it for one beat too long.
Then placed my hand in his.
And just like that—
I was gone.
(Chapter Theme Song: Yellow by Coldplay)
- Writer
