Me and Mom Fall for Spencer Read Online Free Page B

Christine would so ask.
    So when I see him later that day, I say,
“I have some rice…just peppers and chicken. On the back
porch? Or out here on the front, yeah. Just…you
can sit on the steps and I’ll bring it out.”
    He laughs again. “That sounds amazing but
you’re putting me in mind of hoboes and women feeding them.”
    “Sounds like an old black and white,” I
say, and it’s almost…well better than most of the things I ever say.
    “Yeah I love that stuff,” he says, “the
old stuff.”
    I do too, but…it’s just…where can this
go, this sharing of personal information? I can’t be his friend.
    So I go in and he must figure it out
cause when I come out carrying two plates, and kind of dying that we’re going
to do this…eat together…he’s sitting on the steps but he’s gone for his guitar
and he’s playing again and singing, “She’s a girl, she’s a girl, she’s a lunch
cooking girl.”
    It’s just ridiculous. To be this
flattered. He’s probably sung that song a hundred times for a hundred girls and
all of them going, ‘oh Elvis,’ inside and him trying not to laugh.
    So what in the hell am I thinking. He
might get the wrong idea about me and here we are living side by side already
and I’ll never get rid of him. It’s too much.
    So I hand him a plate, fluffy white rice
and chicken and vegetables I’ve grown, and three different colors of sliced
tomatoes for an accent and also because they’re so damned good to eat.
    And he takes a bite even with the steam
coming off, and he tilts back his head and says, “Oh Sarah…man,” and he moans
and I’m just holding my plate and I think my mouth is open, no it is.
    And after that I don’t know what the
hell he says I’m just so caught up in how he says it.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    Me and Mom Fall
for Spencer
    Chapter Five
    Game Night One

 
    “It’s not right. It’s not right. I’ve
told you and told you it can’t be this powdered stuff it has to be grated.” I
am stirring the yellowish sauce with the bamboo spoon.
    “Sarah it’s not the end of the world,”
Mom says, no energy in her voice.
    Well, it’s just me, it’s not like I’m a
student…or Christine…or Spencer. Talk about energy, she has plenty when she’s
telling him my life story, all my personal business I’ll bet. I’ve forbidden
her to say anything about me, even my name, to the
guys she meets on the web. I’ve had to reiterate the rules to her for Spencer. She
told me to chill. No, to chill-ax.
    “Oh…nothing matters. Right. Nothing is important. Put all this effort in for nothing,” I say, and the truth
is I’m a nervous wreck. We’ve got all these people coming…the neighbors we’ve
lived around, well Mom has for thirty years, and me…all my life, and now this
new guy…um Spencer, and Aaron looming. What is happening to us?
    “You’ve made it with the powdered cheese
before,” Mom says absently, her jeweled glasses catching the overhead light as
she sorts through the mail.
    Does she not understand? It has to be
perfect! It has to be!
    “Are we related? Really?” I ask because I’ve always had this feeling she’s holding things back.
    She smirks but she doesn’t even stop
reading the Big-Mart ad.
    “Because you can tell me,” I continue as
I stir, stir, stir.
    “Sarah, people are going to be here and
you’re still in your underwear.”
    I look at the clock. Oh crap. Time never
gets away from me like this. I’m in my underwear and undershirt but I’m wearing
an apron so I don’t get food on me. But dude from next door is not going to
catch me this way again. You can bet on that.
    “Stir this,” I say, meaning the Alfredo.
    “I can’t right now, honey. I have to
change. Did you put the soda in the tub?”
    “We’re not having soda. I made peach
tea.”
    “Not everyone likes peach tea honey. Christine
doesn’t.”
    I make a sound. Like I give a flying fig
what Christine likes.
    “I made lemonade.”
    She looks