Read Online Love? Maybe. by Heather Hepler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Hepler
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doesn’t ask anything else. Not that he has a chance to. Jillian starts attacking him with questions again.
Claire keeps taking her phone out of her pocket every three seconds to look at it. I told her to block Stuart’s calls, but she won’t. She said he might need her. I think he lost the right to need her when he dumped her. I also think that if she blocks his calls, she can pretend that he called, but she just couldn’t get them. I know it’s a silly game, but it works with me. I blocked my dad’s calls on my cell a long time ago. Not that he’s calling, but at least I can pretend that he still thinks about me.
I slide the pan of cookies in the oven and twist the tomato-shaped timer to twelve minutes. I lean against the counter and watch Jillian flirting with Charlie. He seems mostly oblivious to her, more interested in sneaking fingerfuls of dough out of the mixing bowl than listening to her talk about where she spent her winter break. Jillian is about to launch into a description of the boat she and her family stayed on when Charlie stretches. She stops talking and just watches. I look over at him, but honestly I can’t see what she’s getting so bunched up over. He’s just Charlie.
The timer rings and I take the cookies out. The four of us stand around and eat them hot off the pan. I notice that Jillian only takes one. I wonder if it’s because she already filled herself up with candy or if she’s trying to be dainty in frontof Charlie. I hate it when girls do that. It’s not like it’s some big secret that we eat. Besides, I don’t think guys care about half the stuff girls think they do. As far as I can tell, guys care about sports and food and sleeping. And maybe girls. But as Dom says, only if they’re not too yucky.
“Does your girlfriend come watch you at your meets?” Jillian asks.
Smooth,
I think.
“No,” Charlie says, scooping up another hot cookie. I look at him. Last I knew he was dating Julie Reynolds.
“No as in she doesn’t or no as in you don’t have one?” Jillian asks. I have to hand it to her. She’s nothing if not direct.
“Don’t have one,” Charlie says. This seems to cheer Jillian considerably. She smiles as she takes another bite of her one cookie.
“Listen, I have to take off,” Charlie says. He pushes the rest of cookie number five into his mouth. “Early practice.” He scoops up two more cookies and heads toward the door. “Thanks for the cookies, Pipe.” He opens the door. Miss Kitty bolts between his legs and bounds up the stairs. He doesn’t say anything about the purple Sharpie swirls that still decorate her fur. “Nice meeting you,” he says to Jillian. He looks over at Claire, who is sliding her phone out of her pocket again. “Hey,” Charlie says. She looks up. “His loss.” She gives him a smile. I smile at him too. Charlie can be incredibly thick sometimes, but every once in a while he does something that reminds me of why we’re friends. He has barely closed the door behind him when Jillian turns to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.
“Tell you what?” I slide the sheet pan into the sink.
“Tell me your next door neighbor is such a hottie!”
“Did you just use the word hottie?” I ask, shaking my head at her. I have to fight the impulse to roll my eyes. Sometimes she talks like she’s the star of her own reality show. I look over at Claire, hoping she’s going to field this one, but she’s staring at her phone again. I pull out some plastic wrap to cover the rest of the cookie dough. Maybe I’ll surprise Dom and Lucy with homemade cookies when they get home from Beau’s.
“Have you and Charlie ever gone out?” Jillian asks.
“Ew,” I say. “No.”
“Why ew?” Jillian asks. “He’s dee-lish.”
“Double ew,” I say. “Charlie is just…” I pause. “He’s just Charlie,” I say. “We’ve known each other forever.” I slide the
Claire keeps taking her phone out of her pocket every three seconds to look at it. I told her to block Stuart’s calls, but she won’t. She said he might need her. I think he lost the right to need her when he dumped her. I also think that if she blocks his calls, she can pretend that he called, but she just couldn’t get them. I know it’s a silly game, but it works with me. I blocked my dad’s calls on my cell a long time ago. Not that he’s calling, but at least I can pretend that he still thinks about me.
I slide the pan of cookies in the oven and twist the tomato-shaped timer to twelve minutes. I lean against the counter and watch Jillian flirting with Charlie. He seems mostly oblivious to her, more interested in sneaking fingerfuls of dough out of the mixing bowl than listening to her talk about where she spent her winter break. Jillian is about to launch into a description of the boat she and her family stayed on when Charlie stretches. She stops talking and just watches. I look over at him, but honestly I can’t see what she’s getting so bunched up over. He’s just Charlie.
The timer rings and I take the cookies out. The four of us stand around and eat them hot off the pan. I notice that Jillian only takes one. I wonder if it’s because she already filled herself up with candy or if she’s trying to be dainty in frontof Charlie. I hate it when girls do that. It’s not like it’s some big secret that we eat. Besides, I don’t think guys care about half the stuff girls think they do. As far as I can tell, guys care about sports and food and sleeping. And maybe girls. But as Dom says, only if they’re not too yucky.
“Does your girlfriend come watch you at your meets?” Jillian asks.
Smooth,
I think.
“No,” Charlie says, scooping up another hot cookie. I look at him. Last I knew he was dating Julie Reynolds.
“No as in she doesn’t or no as in you don’t have one?” Jillian asks. I have to hand it to her. She’s nothing if not direct.
“Don’t have one,” Charlie says. This seems to cheer Jillian considerably. She smiles as she takes another bite of her one cookie.
“Listen, I have to take off,” Charlie says. He pushes the rest of cookie number five into his mouth. “Early practice.” He scoops up two more cookies and heads toward the door. “Thanks for the cookies, Pipe.” He opens the door. Miss Kitty bolts between his legs and bounds up the stairs. He doesn’t say anything about the purple Sharpie swirls that still decorate her fur. “Nice meeting you,” he says to Jillian. He looks over at Claire, who is sliding her phone out of her pocket again. “Hey,” Charlie says. She looks up. “His loss.” She gives him a smile. I smile at him too. Charlie can be incredibly thick sometimes, but every once in a while he does something that reminds me of why we’re friends. He has barely closed the door behind him when Jillian turns to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.
“Tell you what?” I slide the sheet pan into the sink.
“Tell me your next door neighbor is such a hottie!”
“Did you just use the word hottie?” I ask, shaking my head at her. I have to fight the impulse to roll my eyes. Sometimes she talks like she’s the star of her own reality show. I look over at Claire, hoping she’s going to field this one, but she’s staring at her phone again. I pull out some plastic wrap to cover the rest of the cookie dough. Maybe I’ll surprise Dom and Lucy with homemade cookies when they get home from Beau’s.
“Have you and Charlie ever gone out?” Jillian asks.
“Ew,” I say. “No.”
“Why ew?” Jillian asks. “He’s dee-lish.”
“Double ew,” I say. “Charlie is just…” I pause. “He’s just Charlie,” I say. “We’ve known each other forever.” I slide the
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