Miss Me Not

Dean led me through the herd, keeping a protective arm over my shoulders as if he was responsible for shielding me.

"Well, that was craptastic," I said, trying to calm my sudden claustrophobia.

"Yeah, the crowds can suck ass, but this is nothing. You should see it during their peak time," he said, shuddering to prove his point. "You up for more rides?" he added.

"Lead the way," I said, taking in his hopeful expression. If I was going to do this whole living thing, I was going to need to start acting normal and less like someone with serious obsessive compulsive issues.

Dean swung our hands slightly as we walked. I was most certain that “friends” didn't hold hands, but his touch was becoming oddly addicting. I could have done without the whole preteen hand swinging, but I tolerated it even though the whole cliché of it made me want to cringe. It could have been worse. He could have insisted we walk with our hands in each other's back pockets. Just the idea made me want to puke a little.

Chapter Thirteen

The week following our trip to Universal Studios was wrought with firsts for me. Dean somehow roped, cajoled, conned, pretty much tricked me into agreeing to have Thanksgiving with his family. I balked at the mere suggestion of it, but over the two days we spent at school the week of Thanksgiving, he made it his personal mission to wear me down until I finally gave up in exasperation. The moment I agreed, I instantly wished I could retract my words. Family dinners were bad enough, but holiday family dinners were equivalent to Chinese water torture as far as I was concerned. Meeting new people, making polite chit-chat and acting like I was normal just seemed way too daunting for me.

As a last-ditch attempt to weasel out of it, I finally confessed two nights before Thanksgiving that I had nothing to wear that was presentable.

"You're always presentable," Dean lied kindly.

"Right," I snorted, glaring at the iPhone in my hand. Even though he couldn't see me, I still rolled my eyes dramatically. Of course, the fact that he couldn't see me made the whole thing lose some of its luster.

"So, I'll take you shopping tomorrow," he said in his typical Mr. Fix-It way.

"No way," I balked. Just the idea of Dean following me around from store to store while I tried on one outfit after another in the whole shopping ritual was enough to make me pray for Armageddon. That's if I was a prayer.

"What about your mom? Can she take you?"

"Um, maybe, if hell has frozen over," I bit out unkindly, not forgetting her rejection from the past weekend.

"Hmmm, we'll figure something out," he finally said vaguely.

I'd done it. My excuse was laid. I knew he wouldn't force me to go if he thought I was self-conscious about my wardrobe. I smiled bitterly. This is what I had wanted.

We talked for a few more minutes when Dean abruptly cut off our conversation, throwing out the excuse that his mom needed him for something. Without even being able to see his face, I knew he was lying to me. Maybe my freakiness was finally too much for him.

I went to bed that night with my guts hanging out. I tried to convince myself I didn't care. Three weeks of a friendship was nothing. I could go back to the way my life had been before he entered it. Several hours later, I was still tossing and turning, and I could no longer tamper down my despair. For the first time ever, I almost felt like a typical girl. I was on the verge of texting him under some false pretense just so I could see if he would respond. I had the message typed out and was about to send it when my actions finally broke through my fog. What was I doing? Clingy, needy, please don't leave me? This wasn't me. I deleted the words one at a time until they were all completely erased and tossed my phone on the far side of the bed, not caring that it slid off the bed and landed on the floor. Out of sight, out of mind. I flipped on my TV and turned the volume down so it was barely audible. I needed something to take my mind off my thoughts so I could drift off to sleep.

The bleeping of a text message woke me from my restless slumber the next morning. I lay there for a moment, deciding if I should ignore it. Who was I kidding? I'd have to turn it off to ignore it. Knowing Dean, he'd just show up here if I did that anyway, so I rolled over to the far side of my bed so I could scoop my phone up off the floor.

The text was short and terse.

Get dressed. I have plans for us today. D

Ordinarily, I'd have been pissed at his demanding tone. Did he think he was the boss of me? Truth is, I actually felt relief. I guess freaky me still hadn't scared him away after all.

Jumping from my bed, I dressed in record time and was waiting in the living room like some obedient dog when I heard his jeep pull up in the driveway. I was still aggravated at the way I acted for him sometimes, and I opened the door, ready to lay him out for his bossiness.

My words of reproach died a quick death in my throat when I gasped in surprise at the visitor on my doorstep.

"Mrs. Jackson?" I squawked out, confused.

"Madison," she said, enveloping me in a warm hug that ended before I could even think about stiffening up. "I understand I have you to thank for this. I can't tell you how nice a girls’ day out sounds. Don't get me wrong, I love the twins, but no whining, demands for food or constant potty trips sounds like bliss," she gushed, stepping around me into the house.

Frick, this was mortifying. Hell no. I could not believe Dean had stooped that low. Forcing his mom into taking his pitiful friend/girlfriend, or whatever the hell I was, shopping was just plain wrong. It took me several moments to finally unlock the words that were somehow stuck between my esophagus and larynx.

"Um, Mrs. Jackson, I…"

"Sarah," she gently interrupted me.

"Um, okay, Sarah, it's really nice of you to volunteer, but I wouldn't dream of asking you to give up the day before the holiday to take me shopping," I finally stuttered out.