More Than Friends by Monica Murphy

Author:Monica Murphy [Murphy, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw, mobi
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: EM Publishing
Published: 2016-11-12T06:00:00+00:00

“Whose car is that sitting out in front of our house?” Mom asks as she ducks and peers through the living room window.

I glance outside. Jordan’s black Range Rover is sitting there, idling by the curb. Within seconds of spotting him, my phone buzzes with a text.

I’m here. You ready?

“It’s my friend. He’s giving me a ride to work,” I say nervously as I type out my reply.

Give me a minute. I’ll meet you out there.

Mom, of course, picks up on my nerves. She studies me carefully, so carefully she freaks me out and I drop my phone on the hardwood floor with a loud clatter. “A male friend?”

I nod, scooping up my phone and checking it for damage. Thankfully, there isn’t any. “He’s in a few of my classes. We’re working on a project together. For English. It’s focused on great literary couples.”

Hitting her with boring stuff proves to be the distraction she needs. “English, hmmm? That’s nice, dear. His car looks very expensive.”

“I guess it is?” I know it is, but playing dumb sometimes works too.

“Very nice of him to drive you to work. I knew you could round some friends to help you.” And with that, she drifts out of the living room and heads to the kitchen. I nearly sag with relief.

But I don’t have time to sag or be relieved. Or be annoyed she basically said, “I told you so,” without saying those words at all. I can’t worry about that. Instead, I gotta go to work.

Grabbing the backpack I use for overnight stays—I packed clothes to change into after work—I sling it over my shoulder, calling out a, “Bye Mom, see you later!” before I slam the front door and dart down the walkway toward Jordan’s car.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

I skid to a stop and turn to see my dad approaching. He’s dressed in ratty, faded black cargo pants and a white T-shirt that’s seen better days. He’s been working in the yard all morning and he’s filthy. But he loves it. He’s why our yard looks so good.

“Um, work?”

“He’s taking you?” Dad flicks his chin at the Range Rover.

I nod and smile at him. “Yeah. He’s just a friend.” I hate that I’m downplaying what Jordan means to me, but I can’t make a big deal about him. Not right now. Mom would start questioning me and it would end up being a huge mess.

“Some friend. Must be loaded.”

“I guess so.” Okay, this conversation is awkward. Why are my parents so focused on his car?

“What’s his name?”

I sigh. “Do you want to meet him, Dad?”

He grins. “Yes, Amanda. I’d love to.”

Trying my best to shoot meaningful looks in Jordan’s direction, I lead my dad to the driver’s side of the car. I thought Jordan would roll down the window to talk to us, but instead he opens his door and hops out, his expression earnest, maybe even a little nervous.

It’s so…cute.

I smile at him and turn to look at my dad.

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