Read Online TMI by Patty Blount - Free Book Online Page B

don’t know what to do, Megan. Can I stay here? I can sleep on the couch. Please?”
    Yes, God, yes! Her stomach pitched and fell. Crap . “No, Chase. My mom would have a fit. Don’t you have any…any, like, guy friends who can help, friends whose relationship statuses aren’t lies?”
    He snapped his mouth shut and stood up. “I’m outta here.”
    He was leaving. Good. That’s what she wanted. So why did she suddenly blurt out, “You’re already eighteen. You don’t need their permission anymore.”
    His eyes widened as they snapped to hers. “You mean, just…just defy them?” He sank back down to the sofa.
    Slowly, she nodded. “Yes, they can’t stop you from doing what you want now.”
    He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, they can. They can kick me out.”
    â€œYou have money. You can get your own place.”
    â€œMegan, my money is their money. I work in the store whenever they need me. The credit card and the allowance are all theirs. I have nothing that’s mine. Not really.”
    That was the entire problem, she knew. She suffered from the same problem—a deep need to do something that she could take pride in. Something that was hers.
    â€œChase, what do you want to do?”
    He groaned. “That’s the problem! I have no idea. I only know I really don’t want to work in a bakery until I die.” He angled his head at her. “What about you? What do you want?”
    She swallowed thickly. Her plan, her future, and everything in it faded to green when she looked in his eyes. Her heart raced and her throat tightened. What did she want? Or maybe the right question was who did she really want?
    She shook her head. Who, what. It didn’t matter.
    It was the one thing she could never have.

Chapter 8
Bailey
    Bailey sat alone in her room, steadily exploring Facebook for signs of Simon. He hadn’t posted an update all day.
    He was probably over at Caitlyn’s house. She kicked the pile of clothes on the floor. She checked her email too. Still nothing. Oh, this was stupid and pointless and maddening, so she turned to her game system. Maybe spilling some blood and guts in Call of Duty would get her mind off Simon. She signed in, loaded up the game, and noticed someone had messaged her. She really hoped it wasn’t another of those annoying Tenth Prestige Lobby invites.
    Like she needed to cheat.
    From: WyldRyd11
    To: Goldilx
    Hey, I got your gamertag off a Call of Duty forum and I thought maybe we could play a match together—I totally want you on my team. I’ll be online Monday from three until about seven. If you’re online, I’ll invite you.
    WyldRyd11. Wow, what are the odds? He probably didn’t even know that her Goldilx gamertag and “Take It for Granted” blog were her. He didn’t say what forum, not that it mattered since she was in about eight of them. With a shrug, she figured it couldn’t do any harm, so she decided to accept the invitation if and when it came through. She’d just made her first kill when the invite flashed. She accepted it and started a new game.
    â€œHi, this is Goldilx.” She spoke into her headset, but no one answered, which was weird since she could plainly see WyldRyd11’s avatar on the screen, leaping from an abandoned truck. She pressed the Guide button on her controller and found another message.
    From: WyldRyd11
    To: Goldilx
    Sorry! Headset’s broke. I can hear you but can’t talk back. My name’s Ryder. What’s yours?
    Bailey smiled. “Oh…hi, Ryder! My name’s Bailey. I’ll check for messages once in a while, so if you have something to say, just do something to get my attention, like shoot the ground near me or something, and I’ll go read it.” She ran up a flight of stairs in some abandoned apartment building and shot at a target on the street.
    â€œRyder, behind you!”