The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

To her credit, his mother looks appalled. It’s good to know she’s not one of those parents who just couldn’t fathom that her child would ever do anything wrong. And he at least has the decency to look ashamed of himself. I’m not convinced that he’s not just upset that he got caught, but now he knows he won’t get away with it.

“Daniel, how could you be so cruel? This is not how I taught you to treat others,” his mom says, and he turns his face away from her. I immediately think that this is a woman I could be friends with if this weren’t such an uncomfortable situation. “I’m very sorry,” she looks to Lo and adds.

“I am sorry that I punched him,” she says.

“No you’re not,” the woman says with a smile. “And you shouldn’t be. He deserved it.” We all burst out laughing in the middle of the hallway. The scene is hilarious: three women, ranging in age from seventeen to somewhere in her mid-forties, laughing hysterically, and one scowling teenage boy with a black eye.

I pull up in front of our house and see Jameson doing a cardio workout in his driveway. Lo grabs her backpack from the backseat and runs inside. I’ve already called the library to let Gertrude know that I’m taking the rest of the day off. She grunted her agreement and warned me not to make this a regular occurrence. Like I’d really choose to make my sister getting into brawls at school an everyday thing.

I look over at Jameson and watch as he does a round of burpees. What a showoff—and I am glad to let him show me. No wonder he looks so good. I’ve just counted fifteen burpees. I tried to do a burpee once, and I almost died. I’ll stick to running and Pilates classes, thank you very much.

I see my opportunity to corner him into talking to me while he’s pacing around his driveway in between sets. He stops moving and watches me when he notices me coming over to talk to him. His hands are on his waist, and he’s breathing hard.

“Why are you avoiding me?” I demand. His head jerks back in surprise at my forwardness.

“I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just been busy,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck, giving me a nice glimpse of his flexed muscles. Lies! He knows it, I know it, and he knows that I know it! I stare him down with my most intimidating look. I’ve practiced this look in the mirror over the years. When you’re only five feet tall, you have to perfect the mean-and-cold-hearted look. I don’t pull it out often, because I don’t want to be known as an ice queen, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.