Daphne's Questionable Bet, page 10
Cody held the door open for us as we went inside the building.
“Your mom says you’re saving up for a car,” Cody said to me.
“Truth,” I said.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “How much have you saved up?”
“Close to four thousand.”
His eyes widened, impressed. “That’s great. I’m looking to sell my old 2008 Civic if you’re interested.”
My eyebrow inched up on its own accord, betraying me and giving away my interest. “Oh, really?”
“It’s in great condition,” he quickly went on. “I can bring it by the house sometime so you could check it out. If you want.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mom eagerly nodding, wanting me to agree.
I paused for a few beats, just to make them both uncomfortable. “I think that could be arranged.”
Cody let out a breath of relief. “Great. I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”
I opened my mouth to tell him he really didn’t need to bring it by so soon, but Mom tugged us into the classroom.
We got into position in the middle, and I focused on the fact that I loved Zumba, and it was the perfect stress release for me. Who cared if Cody joined us? Who cared that they kept stealing lovesick glances at each other and that Mom checked out his butt multiple times? This was one of my happy places, and I wouldn’t let Cody take that from me.
After about ten minutes, I was fully submersed in the movements, dancing along with all the energy I had in me. I loved Zumba. It was a much-needed escape and such a good workout.
A couple people came in late, finding a spot next to me and quickly falling into the groove. I about lost my footing, though, when I looked over to see none other than Bentley Anderson.
He winked at me, moving along with the beat like a pro. He’d definitely done Zumba before.
He leaned toward me. “I didn’t know you did Zumba.”
“Me? What about you, Mr. Two-Left-Feet?” I forced out of my dry mouth.
He chuckled, pointing his thumb at the lady next to him. “Mom got me into it a couple of years ago. It’s my secret hobby. Also helps keep me in shape when it’s not swim season.”
The image of Bentley in a speedo flashed through my mind, causing a heatwave to crash through me. I stared straight ahead, doing my best to concentrate on the steps and Bentley being fully clothed.
All through the workout, I kept stealing glances at Mom and Cody in the mirror. Watching them smile and laugh with each other caused my heart to soften. Just a little. He was still way too young for her. But, maybe a short relationship with him would help her feel young again. See the world in a new light. Then, they could break up, and she could date someone who was old enough to be my father.
Wait, did this mean I was okay with her marrying someone else?
When the session ended, Cody tossed both Mom and me a towel so we could wipe down, which I happily did. Sweat practically rained from my body. Very sexy.
Bentley used a towel to wipe his forehead. “Nice work out there, Daphne. You really know how to dance.”
I wrapped my towel around my neck, so it was draped over my shoulders. “It’s one thing in life I’m actually okay at.”
He grinned. “Definitely better than okay.”
Cody stepped up to us, reaching his hand out to Bentley. “Cody.”
Bentley shook his hand, his gaze glancing over all our matching shirts, then landing back on Cody with a curious expression. The shirts said, ‘Hey, look at us, we’re all together!’ but didn’t explain our relationship. Maybe I could tell Bentley that Cody was my uncle or something.
I introduced Mom to Bentley to steer the focus somewhere else.
“Daphne said you’re planning a bonfire,” Mom said, smiling up at Bentley.
Cody put his arm around Mom’s shoulder, and all I could think about was all the sweat they were sharing, and, gross. Also, shut down the option of claiming Cody was my uncle. Unless I could pass it off that we were a very affectionate family.
“In January?” Cody shivered. “Don’t think I could handle that.”
Mom laughed. “Daphne is good at roping people into doing random things.”
I brushed off my shoulder. “Yet another thing I’m good at. You guys mustn’t flatter a lady so.”
Cody motioned between Bentley and me. “How do you two know each other?”
“School,” I said. “Poor guy is stuck sitting next to me in English.”
Bentley pushed on my arm, grinning. “I think she means that she’s stuck next to me.”
Cody snapped his fingers like the most brilliant idea just crossed his mind. “You two should come to my friend’s costume party next month! It’s Regency themed, so you can dress like you’re in a Jane Austen movie. And you’ll be able to show off your dance moves.”
Bentley stroked his chin. “Do I have to pick a character? I know everyone loves Mr. Darcy, but honestly, I’d pick Henry Tilney from Northanger Abbey.”
I stared at him with my jaw dropped. He knew the men from Jane Austen novels? I yanked the towel from around my neck so I could dab at my face. Why had I started sweating again?
“No particular character,” Cody said. “It’s all just for fun. A chance to dress up and be someone else for a night.”
Bentley looked down at me. “I’m in if you are.”
I kept dabbing at my face, my breaths getting more shallow. Okay, they’d definitely turned on the heat or something.
Mom elbowed me, snapping me from my trance.
“Yeah.” I cringed at the crack in my voice. “That would be great.” Wait. What? Was I agreeing to go to a party with Cody?
But Bentley would be there. As my …
“Is this a date?” I blurted.
Mom closed her eyes, her sigh barely audible, but it was magnified to me.
Bentley just shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He offered a bow, sweeping his arm in front of him. “If you would do me the honor, my lady.”
I couldn’t help but snort. With a deep flourish, I curtseyed. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Oh,” Cody said, patting his stomach. “Chick-fil-A does sound good right now.”
“I was thinking the same thing!” Mom said.
I loved and hated that his mind went there from me saying, my pleasure.
Bentley tapped my arm. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I’ll pick you and Sierra up at two.”
I curtseyed again, trying to hide my annoyance at the mention of her name.
When he walked away, Mom let out the smallest of squeals. “A date! And he knows Jane Austen?”
“And does Zumba,” Cody put in. “He seems like quite the catch.”
I watched Bentley leave with his mom, the two of them chatting and smiling. “He is.”
Thanks to Cody using the word ‘catch,’ “Grenade” by Bruno Mars entered my mind. Seriously, that song was intense. If I were the girl, I wouldn’t want to be with a guy like that, either. I mean, he’d catch a grenade for her? If I saw a grenade coming for me and the one I loved, I’d be hightailing it out of there, dragging the guy along with me.
That was true love.
Chapter Nineteen
We ended up sitting at Chick-fil-A, chatting for a couple of hours. I was starting to understand why Mom liked Cody so much. He was a charming guy, easy to talk to and get along with. He had a lot of the same interests as us and worked hard to make sure I was included in the conversation, all the while sprinkling my mom with compliments.
I was warming up to the idea of having him in our life. He’d be a good friend for Mom, even after their relationship fizzled.
I’d just gotten another refill of Cherry Coke—they were one of the few places that actually carried it, so I didn’t need to add my own syrup—when I looked at my phone and saw the time. I rushed back to the table, clearly interrupting a sweet moment between Mom and Cody.
“We have to go!” I yelled.
They both jumped, breaking eye contact to look up at me.
“Bentley is going to be picking me up soon.” I motioned to my body, still wearing my Zumba outfit. “I’m not going to have time to shower!”
Mom and Cody went into code red mode, quickly cleaning off the table and rushing outside to the car. We all piled in, and Cody was off.
“You have time to rinse off,” Mom said, looking back at me. “Just not to wash your hair.”
Cody chanced a glance at me as he drove. “Maybe if you washed it really quick, your mom could re-braid it for you.”
“What about makeup? Outfit?” I screeched.
“You don’t need makeup,” Mom said. “You look beautiful without it.”
“I’m in a competition here, Mom!” I yanked out the tie holding my hair back and went to undoing my braid. My leg bounced, like doing so could get us home faster.
I swear we hit every red light until Cody turned sharply into our subdivision. “Daphne, you head straight for the shower. We’ll pick out your outfit.”
“But—”
“We don’t have time to disagree,” Cody said, pulling into the driveway. “Just go!”
I scrambled out of the car and into the house. If I knew Cody wouldn’t be following us into the house, I would have been stripping in the hallway on the way to the bathroom.
I probably set the record for the fastest shower in history. I’d never moved so fast.
When I got in my bedroom, my outfit was laid out on the bed, sans underwear. I grabbed a bra from my drawer, then noticed the underwear side was practically empty. I’d forgotten to do the laundry, and some things were still on their way from Utah.
Which meant I had a limited supply of underwear. I picked up the only pair I had, twisting my lips to the side in thought. My lucky Care Bear underwear I’d had since I was in elementary school. I’d always kept them in my drawer to remind me of the good ol’ days, but I never actually wore them. They were about three sizes too small.
So, did I go commando, or wear my Care Bear underwear?
Yeah, so not going commando.
It was a struggle, but I got the underwear on, a wedgie already taking form. I hurried into my outfit, softly smiling at Mom and Cody’s choices. A Cherry Coke shirt, plus the newly cut-off Cherry Coke sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. So comfortably me.
The black pleather pants, though, I’d never seen before.
“Daphne,” Mom yelled from outside. “Hurry up!”
With a shrug, I slipped into the pants, trying not to think about the fact that they were a hair too snug. Hey, I was able to get them zipped, and that was all that mattered.
Mom and Cody were in the kitchen when I ran out. Mom practically shoved me into the chair and went to braiding my hair.
“Whose pants are these?” I asked.
“Mine,” Mom said. “They were my lucky pants in high school.”
Apparently, my family had a thing for lucky bottoms.
“Your dad always went nuts when I wore them,” Mom said, brushing the tangles from my hair.
I glanced at Cody, wanting to see his reaction to the mention of my dad, but he was just smiling at my mom, so sincere and sweet. Ugh. Would it kill him to be a jerk for once?
“Well, FYI, you were slightly smaller than me back then,” I said. “I’m surprised I got these babies on.”
Cody kneeled before me with my makeup bag. “Have I told you I have three younger sisters?”
I tried to shake my head, but Mom was holding it too tight.
Cody glanced up at her. “Two Dutch braids.” His gaze went to me. “Well, they’re the reason I know a lot about hair, makeup, fashion, anything girly.” He zipped open the kit and searched around in it. “Our mom died when the girls were young, and Dad worked like crazy, so I kind of became the stay-at-home parent.” He pulled out the foundation in the bag and held it up to my face. “Isn’t this your makeup?”
I glanced down at the Care Bear bag. “Yes.”
He shook his head, tossing the foundation back in the bag. “That’s the wrong color for you. It’ll wash you out.” The next thing I knew, he was applying eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, mascara, and lip gloss.
“How old are your sisters?” I managed to ask while he was putting on the mascara.
“The twins, Elizabeth and Elinor, are twenty,” he said, steely determination in his green eyes. Huh. His eyes were green. Like mine.
“Emma is seventeen,” he said. “I think the two of you would get along.”
Nope. That was weird. Being friends with his sister? If they got married, she’d be my aunt. Was that better than Taylor being my aunt? Probably.
“I’m sensing a theme with the names,” I said.
He chuckled. “Mom loved Jane Austen.”
“Then why are you Cody?” I asked.
“Dad intervened when she tried to name me Edmund.” Cody grinned widely when he finished, standing up and stepping back to survey his work.
Mom had finished with my double braids and stood next to him, smiling at me in a total proud mom fashion.
“You look gorgeous,” Mom said.
Cody held out a mirror for me to look in. I was worried with all the product he was putting on me, I’d look like a clown. But it was done so well, subtle, the colors matching my outfit.
“This is better than I do!” I said, turning my head side to side.
“I’m more than happy to give you some techniques,” Cody said with a laugh.
“You know, I kind of like the name Edmund,” I said.
Cody ran a hand over his beard. “It’s my middle name. Mom stuck it on the birth certificate when Dad wasn’t looking.”
Man, I really liked his mom. Wish I could have met her.
Wait, what? I didn’t want to meet anyone in his family. This was all moving way too fast for me.
The doorbell rang, so Cody went to answer it.
Mom clapped her hands. “Perfect timing.” She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Just be yourself, Daphne. Don’t let Sierra get to you. Stay focused. Stay strong.”
I stretched out my neck like I was headed into battle.
“Hey,” Cody said from the doorway, talking to whoever was on the other side. “I’m Cody.”
“Weston.” Weston’s shaky voice made my heart do this weird flip.
Mom’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Weston’s going?”
I ran my fingers over the Dutch braids. “Didn’t I mention that?”
She shook her head. “You just said, ‘some people from my class.’” She’d switched to a weird, nasally voice.
“Okay, I do not sound like that.”
“Daphne?” Cody called out.
Both Mom and I turned to see Cody and Weston standing in the entryway. Weston’s nose inched up as he smiled.
“Love Story” by Taylor Swift started up in my mind, and whoa! Where did that come from? This wasn’t a freaking fairytale. I turned it off as quickly as I could, replaced by “You’ve Got a Friend in Me,” and, man, that was much better.
Chapter Twenty
When Weston and I walked down the walkway, I noticed Bentley had been the one to knock on Sierra’s door, and I tried not to read too much into that. Maybe he drew the short straw or something.
Sierra and I stopped on the sidewalk, locking eyes. It was a moment of just the two of us, sizing up the enemy. Then our eyes flicked toward the passenger seat, and we both took off.
The William Tell Overture blared in my head like we were off to the races, giving me the energy I needed.
“Shotgun!” I screamed as I sprinted toward Bentley’s car.
Sierra and I arrived at the same time, slamming into the door as our hands scrambled to latch onto the handle. Sierra tried to shove me to the side, but I held firm.
“I’m sitting up front,” Sierra hissed at me.
“I called shotgun!” Using my hip, I pressed her to the side, slowly inching her back.
“Uh, ladies?” Bentley said from somewhere nearby.
It distracted me just long enough for Sierra to shove me with all her might, swing the door open, hop in, and slam the door shut. She smirked at me through the window.
Standing straight, I adjusted my bag that had gotten all wonky from the race, making sure it laid right against me. I looked up to see both Weston and Bentley staring at me, both in a mixed state of shock and confusion.
I cleared my throat. “Passenger gets to pick the song selections, and we all know what horrible taste Sierra has in music.”
“What does she like?” Weston asked.
I had no idea. We’d never talked about that. Or anything about ourselves, for that matter.
“Crappy music.” I wrapped my hand around the door handle, ready to pull it open, when I finally realized what kind of car Bentley had.
“You have a Bentley?” I asked, watching him walk around to the driver’s side of the car. On top of that, it was gold, and it doesn’t get much more pompous than that.
He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “Parents thought it fitting with my name and all.”
Yeah, because getting your teenage son a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car just because it shares his name was totally reasonable.
“Thank goodness they didn’t name you Pinto or Chevy,” I said, opening the door.
“Or bicycle,” Weston said, smiling over the car at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Very funny,” Bentley said with obvious sarcasm.
As soon as I sat down, I took in the back seat. Much different from Cody’s back seat. Papers, hamburger wrappers, and dirty gym clothes were on the floor and the seat, which answered why it smelled so bad. Did his parents know how Bentley treated his two-hundred-thousand-dollar car?
Weston got in the back, wincing like he’d forgotten about the smell and was just remembering.
Something lumpy was underneath me, so I shifted and pulled it out, holding the dirty sock between my fingers before dropping it to the ground. I had to ignore the fact that I was now in full wedgie mode, thanks to my way-too-small underwear.
Weston leaned close to me, his breath minty fresh, and I practically inhaled the scent, welcoming it over what Bentley had going in his car. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”
