Check, Please (Book #2)

Thirty.

Despite my initial reaction, it would've been a lie for me to say that ending things with Gemma didn't hurt at all. I missed her—some days more than others—though this was the first time that breaking up with her didn't leave me feeling like the world was crumbling around me. For the most part, I was doing alright; part of me even appreciated the fact that instead of worrying about pleasing Gemma twenty-four-seven, my brain now had time to think about other things.

Other things, like wondering how to rekindle my slightly-more-than-friendship with Melanie. If my thoughts still drifted to Gemma on occasion, they turned to Melanie at least four times more often. She'd started responding to my text messages again, which I counted as a victory even if she was only sending one or two word replies. It was better than nothing, and after weeks of silence, even a simple "Yes" or "No" from Melanie made my heart do somersaults. I hadn't asked her to start tutoring me again; I knew that she'd probably agree if I did, but I didn't want our first face-to-face interaction since my date dash to take place in the library. I wanted it to be special somehow, though that seemed easier said than done. I couldn't think of how to approach her to hang out, and I was ashamed to admit that I'd turned to watching terrible romantic comedies on TV to get inspired. Honestly, I didn't understand how or why anyone paid money to watch the damn things in theaters. The moral of the story always seemed to be that attractive people end up together, no matter what. The end. Cue tears. Roll credits.

For some reason, I didn't think that Melanie wanted me to stand outside her window with a boombox or to write her an email every day for a year. No, both seemed like pretty ridiculous options, which was why I went with my safest bet: asking Parker to put in a good word for me.

I caught him on my way to class one morning and plopped down beside him at the table as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. He glanced at me without pausing to swallow, instead adding a slice of toast to his bursting cheeks. "Hey," I said, and he nodded his greeting in return. "What's up?"

He gave me a look as he shrugged, obviously sensing that I wanted something from him. Without waiting for him to respond, I continued, "Do you think you could do me a favor?" He didn't react. "Would you mind talking to Melanie for me?"

Parker stared at me for a moment and then chased his breakfast down with orange juice. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"No, what? No, you don't mind, or no, you won't talk to her?"

"The latter," he replied, dragging his fork across his plate to capture flecks of scrambled egg.

"Why not?"

"You and Gemma just broke up."

"So? You didn't seem to mind when I hung out with Melanie while Gemma and I were still hooking up."

"I know," Parker admitted, folding his arms across his chest. He chewed on his lip while he chose his words. "Actually, to be honest, it has less to do with you and more to do with Melanie."

"What do you mean?"

He lifted one shoulder up to his ear. "She told me to stop meddling."

"I'm not asking you to meddle," I protested. "I'm asking you to, you know, just help me get back into her good graces."

"That's the definition of meddling."

"Well, then be subtle."

"She'll know."

"How?" I demanded, reaching for his untouched yogurt cup and peeling back the lid. Parker gave me a withering look as I grabbed a spoon from the tray of utensils that rested on the table's center.

"She's smarter than both of us, you prick." He sighed as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Plus, you just stole my last coconut yogurt; why would I do anything for you?"