Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
For what felt like hours I just stared at the back of my closed bedroom door chewing over the words he threw at me. 
                          
No... fired at me was more like it. 
                          
It was like cannon balls were flying all around and sooner or later, I was sure to take a hit. 
                          
What on God's green earth did he mean? 
                          
He can't just leave me hanging like that! Did he get me confused with someone else, I mean, cuz I was clearly sitting right there? No other person but me. So how could he shoot so straight and still miss the mark? 
                          
Shaking my head, I moved to place Chloe in the makeshift bassinet so I could finally get dressed. It was nearing eleven o'clock and my stomach was rebelling. 
                          
Moving to my claustrophobic inducing walk in closet with the burnt out light bulb I had planned on changing like a thousand times, I pulled out a pair of jeans, a white v-neck t-shirt with a little pocket on it before flicking a sandal out into the middle of the room with my big toe with the matching pair to follow. 
                          
Shucking my sleep shorts, I continued processing Kyle's words as I slipped into my favorite pair of weekender jeans.
                          
Surface...project what we want others to see... stuck with a stereotype. 
                          
Pulling on the t-shirt, I tucked the bottom of it beneath the waistband of my jeans and zipped before buttoning.
                          
Was he saying I wrongly judged him?
                          
Tsh... as if. I'm not the type to judge people. In fact, it's other people who misjudge me! Stupid jock!
                          
I froze. I blinked a few times as the impact of my words slapped me hard across my conscience.
                          
Letting out a sigh of defeat, I crossed my legs and bent my knees in a crisscross applesauce fashion. A loud popping sound filled the room as my butt connected with the floor. Placing my face in my hands, I rubbed until I felt my eyes and cheeks were going to slip off.
                          
When did I become that person? The person Kyle recognized in me so easily and I had been staring at her every day for nearly 18 years. Minus a few when I was a baby, but still. Less than twenty-four hours in his company and Kyle Warner had already called me out... to myself! Making me see the side of me that I knew was there but just ignored. The one who was never hurting anyone.
                          
But you let your stereotypical judgments blind you to who Kyle Warner really is. Didn't he just say so? And you haven't exactly been a saint toward him because of that judgment.
                          
How many more people have you been wrong about? 
                          
Dropping my hands to my knees, my back curved forward as I hunched over giving me a great view of the tops of my bare feet as I let go of a very aggravated huff. Wiggling my toes, I debated on whether or not to move from this spot. Facing Kyle with the whole ya got me feeling wasn't exactly on my checklist of things I was excited about doing today. 
                          
I could act indifferent, lie and say I didn't understand what he meant. But then that would make me look like an idiot. And for the most part, he did call me a nerd... so, he knows I'm smart... or at least, that's how I project myself. 
                          
I winced. It wasn't going to be easy changing my thought process. Kyle just looked like a jock, acted like a jock and so did his friends. Tricia Scott just looked like a bitch, acted like one and I bet that wasn't her just projecting what she wanted people to see. Something like that had to be a part of the genetic pool.
                          
Argh! Stop it, Melody... Stop it!
                          
Sighing, I rolled over onto my back, the rumbling in my tummy quickly winning over.