Read Online True Intentions by Lisa Kuehne - Free Book Online

Well, except maybe for me.
    "Well, duh! He is pretty gorgeous." She states the obvious. "He is so dazzling, yet, believe it or not, I've never seen him date any girls from this school. He's been here for this entire year. Any girl here would go out with him. Maybe he's gay?" she concludes, giggling louder than usual.
    "We can think that. It'd be the easiest theory for our self-esteems," I joke.
    "So, did you talk to him?" she asks, prodding for answers of her own.
    How do I explain this one?
    "Well, I did briefly. Just a super quick introduction. He wasn't feeling well, so he went to see the school nurse."
    I want to confide more, to tell her about this morning and his reaction to my introduction, but I'm still not sure what to make of it, so I decide I really don't want anyone, including Sara, to know.
    "Alright, enough about him . . . . Let's go meet Jack for lunch," I add, changing the subject. Sara grabs my arm as I'm getting off the bench.
    "Ava, I want you to know . . . if you like Jack, that's totally cool with me. I'm okay with that."
    "Actually, we're honestly just friends. But thanks for the offer," I reply, smiling as big as my lips allow. "He's all yours." And with that comment, I wink at her, and we head to meet Jack and his posse.

    Chapter Seven - Instincts

    I've already forgotten about my encounter with Sam Perry by the time I reached my Jeep. The rest of my day has gone better than expected. I introduced Sara to Jack and watched her eyes light up. She must think she's in debt to me for that simple gesture 'cause she said thank you a million times. She even asked me to hang out after school on Wednesday, so she could show me around Lake Arrowhead. I accepted her offer to be my tour guide. Plus, I need to be social and make friends.
    Sara seems to have the same type of personality as my mom, Cheryl. Both are sweet and caring. That is what makes my mom a great nurse. She always cares about everyone no matter what. And Sara has taken me under her wing. She has helped me get to class, sat with me at lunch, and even though she has a crush on Jack, she's willing to let me have him.
    I originally thought Mom was selfish for dragging me from the only home I've known and moving us to California. But the more I think about the situation, the more I realize her true intentions.
    Looking back, I feel guilty for resenting my mom. She wants me to be happy. Just like Sara wants me to be happy with Jack, if it is what I truly want. I envy them and wish I could be more like that.
    I walk past the white Suburban and stop dead in my tracks. Sam is sitting on the hood of my Jeep, looking into the nearby forest.
    What the heck does he want from me now?
    Hasn't he been rude enough to me for one day?
    Although a single word hasn't left his mouth, I'm irritated. I can't stop fuming about his reaction to my introduction earlier.
    He must hear me approach because he turns and then makes a weird gesture—
    offering me his left hand. He wants me to join him on my Jeep's hood.

    Is he kidding me?
    I shake my head and lean against the Suburban, crossing my arms. I say nothing.
    His lips form into a hard line, yet his eyes look wickedly amused at my unwillingness to sit with him. He jumps off the hood in one long stride, and leans against my driver's side fender, so we're facing one another.
    "I acted rude earlier, so I want to apologize," he offers as his explanation.
    He stares at me, seeming to be waiting for me to say something.
    I honestly don't know what to say to his apology.
    The longer the silence lingers, the guiltier I feel about holding a grudge.
    "Well," he continues, pausing briefly. "I shouldn't have been rude, so I guess I'm apologizing. You're not really making this easy, and this is all . . . your fault."
    I sense a little sarcasm in his tone, but I'm too irritated to care.
    I shoot my eyes upward, and squint in disapproval.
    Jerk.
    " I am not making this easy?" I ask. "This is my fault, huh? How would you suggest I make