How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,9

like a human being. “Hi.”

“I’m just confirming your appointment with Dr. Pfeiffer tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”

Shit, shit, shit. Why hadn’t I cancelled this? Why didn’t I ever cancel things I didn’t want to go to? “I, um, have to work tomorrow,” I said lamely.

“Miss Perry,” the secretary said. She sounded at least sixty, kind but firm. Maybe she dealt with terrified flakes like me every day. “This appointment was made six months ago. Dr. Pfeiffer is a specialist. We can’t reschedule.” She paused, listening to my silence. “I really do suggest you come to the appointment.”

“I work at Drug-Rite,” I said, sounding pathetic even to my own ears. “The shifts are really rigid. I could get fired. I really don’t think I can go.”

“Yes,” the woman on the other end of the phone said, surprising me. “You can.”

“The appointment is all the way in Detroit,” I said. “My car won’t make it.”

“Get a friend to drive you,” she said. “Or a parent.”

I laughed, thinking of Dad’s car and Mrs. Feeney. “You don’t know my dad.”

“Miss Perry.”

I closed my eyes. This lady, this stranger on the other end of the phone, was right. And she had no reason to be this nice to me. “Okay,” I managed. “Eleven o’clock. I’ll be there.”

When I hung up, my hand was cold and sweaty on my phone and I had a trickle of perspiration on my temple. Jesus, Megan. Get a grip. I checked my texts and saw that Holly had answered me while I was on the phone. I’m on my way, she wrote.

I picked up my purse and slammed out the door.

Five

Megan

Hennessey’s was nearly empty at this time of day, just a few students taking up the tables, staring at their laptops with their headphones on. Holly was already there, stirring chocolate sprinkles into her latte. I ordered my own drink—coffee, black—and smiled at her.

Holly was Jason’s younger sister. Jason was a year older than me; Holly was a year younger. We hadn’t been friends at Eden High, because I was a basket case during my high school years and Holly had been a creative, square nerd with no friends. Now Holly was a gorgeous, successful creative entrepreneur with a hot boyfriend who adored her, and I was… still a basket case. But fuck it. We’d reconnected when she’d come into the restaurant where I’d worked two jobs ago, and we’d hit it off. Now she was my best friend, even though I had serious issues with her brother.

And maybe, since I’d filled him in, Jason had serious issues with me. I didn’t know.

I tried not to think about Jason, the crazy scene that had happened yesterday. Me chasing him. Telling him about that night. Telling him that he always looked naked to me—oh, God, why had I done that? And then that crazy, random guy showing up and punching Jason in the face, and Jason retaliating with a foot to the guy’s stomach. He hadn’t even looked surprised, just angry, and I’d never seen him move that fast. He had some serious reflexes, it turned out. He’d been like a deadly, hung over Bruce Lee.

It hadn’t scared me, but I hadn’t stuck around. My break was over at Drug-Rite, and I didn’t want to get fired again.

I hadn’t heard from him since.

Holly didn’t look like Jason, though when they stood side by side you could tell they were related. She was much shorter than her brother, slender with curves on the top and the bottom that she always accented with the dresses she made for herself. She had long, dark hair and blue eyes that were nothing like Jason’s dark brown ones. Thank God, because I didn’t think I could be best friends with her if she resembled her hot brother that I’d hated for five years.

Except maybe you don’t hate him anymore.

No. Now I was intrigued, which was just as bad. What the hell was going on with Jason Carsleigh?

“Thanks for the excuse to get away,” Holly said as we sat at a booth. “I tend to work too much now that I work from the apartment. It’s an event to get out.”

“Glad I could help,” I said. “Are we still on for Friday night?”

“We are.” She gave me a worried look. We got together every other Friday night to take pictures of her latest dresses for the site and drink wine. I’d borrow my neighbor’s expensive camera, go to her place, and help her style the dresses, and we’d