Page 18 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

“It is kind of a big truck,” I smile at him.

“Yayuh!”

His enthusiasm makes me laugh.

“Why did you buy such a big truck anyway?” I ask as I pull into the Checkers parking lot.

“I’m compensating for something.”

I do a double take. “Um, what?”

He cracks up laughing at me and my face turns beet red.

“Not what you were thinking. Wow, Claire, keep your mind out of my shorts!”

I smack him on his arm, gently, because I don’t want to hurt his knee by making him jump. “I wasn’t thinking of that.”

“Oh, whatever. You totally were.”

“So… if it’s not… that… what is it?” I ask.

He sighs and squints one eye at me like he doesn’t really want to tell me.

“Come on. I’m trustworthy,” I say with my best puppy dog eyes.

“That is the worst puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen,” he snorts.

I look at myself in the mirror. Yeah, needs some work. I add some more pout to it.

“Better?”

His eyes settle on my mouth and the humor in his eyes is swapped out for something different. I lose my pout, curious about the change in his expression, but his eyes are still focused on my lips.

“What?” I ask.

He clears his throat and turns away. “Nothing. Um, the truck. Yeah. So, I used to be kind of a… uh, a dweeb.”

He looks out the window like he doesn’t want to look at me. I can feel my eyebrows shooting up. Is he kidding me? Does he not remember that we went to school together since 2ndgrade?

“Evan,” I reach out and touch his forearm with my fingers before snatching them back, but that’s enough for him to turn and look at me. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“All the way up until 8thgrade, when I got my growth spurt. Don’t you remember?”

I shake my head. “No. Not at all.”

“Yeah, total dweeb. Glasses and everything. Remember when we did show and tell and I gave a presentation on how to read the stock market, and I brought my charts, and a brief case and everything?”

The memory brings me back to third grade. He wasn’t the new boy anymore, but Miranda Summers, Joy Tidwell, and I thought he was soo cute. I remember thinking that he must be a genius to understand the stock market at that age.

“Yeah. I thought your presentation was really cool,” I say.

He shrugged, in a you-would-think-that kind of way.

“What was that about?” I asked, trying not be offended.

“Well, the hot nerd is always going to think other kids doing nerd things are cool,” he laughed.

I gasp. Did he just call me hot? Did he just call me a nerd? Should I be flattered or offended?

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