Boyfriend From Hell (Falling Angels Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page B

forming in my chest. “He’s all right.”
    “All right? I see the way you act when he walks into the math lab.”
    Yeah. Like I want to crawl under a rock.
    I hadn’t mentioned my second embarrassing encounter to Erin. It was too embarrassing. “Guy’s okay. But for now let’s just concentrate on you and Matt. I should have you guys over after school. We can toast soft drinks to your new relationship.”
    “Ooh, that sounds fun.”
    “But not diet,” I said.
    She laughed.
    #
    “I think I’ve been dumped.”
    Suze and I were in the kitchen preparing a light supper.  I was tossing a salad, while she was pulling together her southwestern corn chowder with poblano peppers.
    “Please, Mom, dumped is such a strong word.”
    “What would you call it?”
    “He’s… just been really busy lately.”
    “Isn’t that what guys say when they’re dumping a girl?”
    “You’ve got a point.” She frowned. “I’m kidding. You haven’t been dumped. I’m sure Miller really likes you.”
    “He hasn’t called.” Her voice was flat, as she put the lid on the pot to let the soup simmer.
    “After dinner we should check your e-mail box to see who else has responded. Miller was okay, but you could do better.”
    There was a brief, awkward silence. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, he was nice enough, but I really didn’t see him as your type.” I was careful not to mention how pleased I was that the loser was gone.
    She was quiet for a long, thought-filled moment. “I liked him,” she finally said. “I thought he liked me.”
    I was surprised at the gloom that colored her words.
She just met the man
. I thought she’d be willing to move on… at least that’s what I’d hoped.
    Dinner was cloaked in painful silence. The light conversation we managed was surrounded by long, awkward gaps where neither of us said anything.  
    Afterwards, we drove into old town to browse the many antique shops that lined the narrow streets. Old town was a historic neighborhood of turn-of-the-century buildings. Going there and browsing the shops was one of our favorite pastimes.
    I loved old town because it gave me the feeling I was stepping into the past, a simpler time when life was easy. It reminded me of Main Street, Disneyland, but real.
    As we shop hopped, I could tell her mind was elsewhere. I tried cheering her up by pointing to an outrageous outfit in a boutique window and saying:
You’d look great in that.
Normally this would have elicited waves of laughter. But this time she said, “Ya think?” as if I were seriously considering the ridiculous clothing.
    The longer we browsed, the lousier I felt.
She really likes the guy.
    I’d done nothing but deride Miller. Oh, not to her face. But in my mind, I saw him as a loser. I thought she could do better. Now I realized no matter what I thought, she liked him.  I wished I’d been more mentally supportive.
    I tried pointing to good-looking guys: “Look at the butt on him, Mom.” Yes! I was even willing to engage in butt talk, anything to get my mother out of her funk. But nothing worked.
    Back at home, we sat on our high stools at the kitchen counter sipping green tea.
    “Why don’t you try calling him?” I said.
    “I did.” Again her voice was small and flat. “It either rings and rings or goes right to voice mail.”
    “Maybe I should call him.”
    “What? You’ll do no such thing. I am not so desperate that my fifteen-year-old daughter has to call men for me.”
    “No, Mom, you’re not desperate at all. But who knows, maybe a call from a friend could let him know what he’s missing.”
    She looked at me long and hard.  A warm smile appeared on her lips.
    “Thank you, honey. You’re the best friend a girl could have. You’ve been nothing but supportive.”
    I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her that I wasn’t such a good friend. In fact, I’d been a horrible friend. I hadn’t been supportive at all. I couldn’t wait for Miller to be out of our