Chapter Three:

I froze.

My heart stopped the second he'd walked through the front door. The exact second. He looked unbelievable.

As earlier, his eyes briefly met mine before looking past me.

I still couldn't look away from him. Greg's here. In my house. He's here. In my house. He's here. Ack! Breathe.

Forcing a huge gulp of air through my lungs hurt worse than I thought it would. I choked. Then, with an involuntary jerk and spasm I began to cough. Loudly. If I was trying to get Greg's attention again, it worked. Still standing in the center of the entranceway, completely paralyzed by my own coughing fit—his mom and dad walked around me trying not to notice that I was hacking up my lungs three feet from them.

"Are you all right?" Greg's deep voice near my ear, caused me to gasp and cough some more.

"S-sure," I wheezed. "I'm, (cough, hack) f-fine (hack, cough), th-thanks!"

"Good grief, Amanda!" hissed Sydney in my other ear. "Go get some water, or something. You're completely freaking everyone out." She turned me around by the shoulders and steered me toward the kitchen. With a slight shove I was propelled into the adjoining room to find my way on my own, which was just fine with me. I wanted to be anywhere than where I was and the faster the better.

Except, I wasn't fast enough—just as I rounded the corner into the kitchen I heard Sydney laugh and introduce herself, "Well, hello. You're Gregory, right? Do you remember me?"

I'd know that laugh anywhere. It was her 'I think he's hot and he's mine' laugh. Sydney crushing on Gregory? My Greg? The guy she hated. Could this get any worse?

After I successfully gulped down two glasses of water I could hear Sydney and Gregory making their way into the kitchen area. He was talking.

"...I don't care. I've never seen your whole house before. What's your favorite place? Take me there first."

Sydney laughed that shrill laugh again. "Follow me."

Warily, I watched as they walked past, never once looking my way, through the kitchen and out the back door. For a moment I hesitated not sure what to do. Should I follow them? Or should I follow my parents?

I opted to do neither. Instead, I wandered into the dining room. On the table, surrounded by boxes, I found a couple of my stepmom's beauty magazines. With a shrug, I selected the most promising one, and took it to the library. There I plopped myself down on the overstuffed chair—the only seat in the study that didn't have a box on it—swiveled it around to face the wall and proceeded to read.

It was after the fifth dramatic artsy add I'd seen for purses that I overheard Sydney and Gregory again. It sounded like they were coming into the room. I sunk down lower in my chair and froze. Please don't find me.

"Wow, look at all the bookshelves. This really does hold a lot of books in here, doesn't it?" Gregory's voice caused my heart to thump. "Do you like to read?"

Anyone else would've missed the curious tone in his casual voice, but I didn't. Gregory wanted to know the answer to that question. I wondered what Sydney would reply.

She laughed. "Read? I wish. I never have time to read. No, the only one of us who has spare time is Amanda. She's always in here."

"Oh." Again, too casual to be real. "So, she spends a lot of time in here, then?"

"Amanda? Yes! Too much time. Of course when you don't go on dates then I guess you have time to shut yourself away." There was a pause, before she slyly asked, "So you used to hang out with Amanda, right?"

"Uh—yeah."

"What do you think of her? I mean do you think she's changed at all?"

What is she doing? Dang, Sydney, just drop it. My hands turned cold and lifeless as I waited for the answer I knew he would give.

"Amanda? You mean, do I think she looks different?"

I could almost feel the smile on Sydney's face before she even confirmed his question, "Yes. Do you think she looks different?"

Why? Why does she do this? My breathing came in short silent gasps. And then he answered. Brutally, horribly and honestly he answered,

"Yeah, she looks a lot different. She's changed so much I almost didn't recognize her."

My heart shattered around my feet at Sydney's answering laugh. It was her favorite question to ask people or relatives who hadn't seen us for awhile. I guess I should be grateful she didn't ask him to my face like she normally did. What did I expect anyway? I know he's not blind.

"Come on! You've gotta see the theater room."

"No way. You guys have one of those rooms set up just for movies?"

"Yeah, it's in the basement. You'll love it."

Slowly I uncurled my stiff fingers from around the crumpled pages of the magazine. Even the pretty face of the supermodel scorned me from the safety of her ad. In disgust I tossed the publication aside and stood up. I straightened my fashionable shirt before walking over to the full length mirror—an item my parents insisted was in every room in the house—to assess the damage that stared back at me. Everything seemed wrong. Everything.

My hair was boring brown. My face lacked anything striking and memorable in it. There was nothing exciting about my figure. All in all, I was surprised people actually noticed me enough to talk to me.

"Well, here's the downstairs again," my stepmom's voice was colored full of enthusiasm.

For the rest of the tour I decided to hightail it out of the home and hang out in the backyard. Which wasn't so bad, when you considered I had the fish in the Koi pond to talk to until it was time to go. It was peaceful for a little while until,

"There you are Amanda!"

I looked up to see Sydney's upset face coming towards me. I must've of been out there longer than I thought. I quickly sat up from the cement bench.

"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? The Wentworths are waiting for us!" Sydney stopped about ten feet from me.

"They are?" I stupidly asked.

"No, I'm out here for my health. Come on!" With an angry flounce she began to march back up to the house.

I followed behind more slowly than I needed to. Sydney was still venting.

"I swear! You knew we were supposed to be going with them. Don't you know it's rude to make people wait for you?"

Twice tonight I felt his eyes on me. Twice, I knew he was watching me intently. I'm not sure why, but it was enough to keep his interest for several seconds. There were three times that I knew of where our eyes met. And once we held for a moment before I looked away. The only time he studiously avoided me, the only time he wished to be anywhere than at that table so near me, was when he answered our parents teasing remarks. The awkwardness and tension from those minutes nearly gave me a heart attack.

"So Gregory, I hear you are here for the summer to help your father, are you planning on going on any dates soon?" my dad asked with a subtle wink at Sydney.

His mom was quick to join in. "Come on, Gregory, you have to tell us. There sure are tons of pretty girls scattered around this city. You could find one to fall in love with. Don't you think, dear?" She turned to her husband. "Out of all of Farmington, there has to be a girl he notices."

Gregory's jaw clenched then before he smiled a half smile and let out a forced short laugh. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Instead he shook his head slightly in response.

My stepmom chuckled. She took his action to be a mild form of modesty. "Don't sell yourself short, Gregory. You're really cute you know. It's all the Farmington girls are talking about. I'm sure there are plenty of them that would love to go out with you."

"Come on, what do you look for in a girl?" asked Veronica. "Let us find someone for you."

"Yes. That's perfect," exclaimed his mom. "What's your type?"

Even Sydney thought it was prudent to add her two cents, "Yeah, tell us."

Gregory's burst of laughter could've been thought of as amused by anyone who didn't know him. As a matter of fact, his easy-going mannerisms belied the pains he took to glance at everyone except me when he answered,

"You're not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?"

"No," his mom grinned over at him.

Gregory chuckled again and raised his hands in mock surrender, "All right! I'm not picky, I promise. Look, all I want in a girl is someone who doesn't change her mind easily. I want a girl who is independent. Someone who won't be persuaded how to think of me by her friends. If I can find a girl who can make the decision to love me and stick with it, then she's mine."

"Wow. That's pretty deep. You're sure you don't want a girl who makes you laugh? Or likes baseball, or something?" asked my dad.

Gregory shook his head, "Nope. I'm pretty positive about what I want in a girl. I've had a few years to think about it. And I've decided that's the best quality a girl can have. Someone who stands up for what they believe in, no matter what her friends say at the time. The rest is just bonus."

My hand had begun to shake so hard my goblet clinked noisily on the plate when I tried to set it back on the table. Instantly, I watched every set of eyes except one turn in my direction. Gregory purposefully kept his gaze averted to the table across from us. I stood up. I had to leave. With a faint murmured, "Excuse me," I fled to the safety of the restaurant bathrooms.

Once in the ladies restroom, I politely moved past a couple of women chatting near the doorway and walked beyond the expensive stalls, around the corner, to a more excluded spot reserved mainly for women who wished to nurse their infants, or rest a moment. The area was vacant. Gratefully, I sunk into one of the lavish plum and gold colored settees. For a moment I held my trembling hands together and attempted to suppress the emotions which were being forced through them.

Okay, okay, okay... Stop stressing out. My life is not over just because Greg has moved on. So sure, the chance to be with him again and see him again has only been my biggest wish for the last three years—but it's time to get over that. I know he must hate me. The best thing I can hope for is that I can be his friend. Or maybe I can help him find a perfect girl to be with. See? Now that's an idea, right? I quickly swiped a tear off my cheek and forced myself to accept the situation. Right? Just think, there are a ton of girls who could use Greg in their lives. Girls that he can build their self-confidence and love and cherish and make them feel like they were actually worth something. Everyone needs to feel loved and beautiful. It's what he does best. There are hundreds right here in Farmington who'd even treat him good. They'd treat him better than I did and actually deserve him. I had my chance and it's pointless to hope for another one. The best I can do is help him find someone who will never hurt him.

There. That's the plan, got it? I'm going to head out of here and smile and think of ways to help Gregory Wentworth find the girl of his dreams. And under no circumstances am I going to cry when he does—even if he chooses Sydney.

With a deep breath, I walked over to the sink and collected a small pool of cold water in my palm. I smoothed it on the back of my neck and felt the tension ease a bit. Glancing in the mirror, my face told me what I'd thought I'd see. I splashed a couple of drops of water on my tense features. Then quickly I grabbed some paper towels and blotted myself dry before tossing them in the nearby trashcan. I pasted on a smile hurried out of the restroom and ran straight into Gregory's hard chest. Instinctively his arms wrapped around me to keep me from falling.