Chapter 8-3

"So you're not going to play footie tomorrow?" I said hopefully, but as soon as I said it, I saw his sheepish grin and knew I had lost again. I sighed, for real this time, and pulled myself out of his grasp, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for my vest top and bed shorts. "Megs, come on, you know how it is....." Brandon said; steeling himself for the other conversation we'd had a thousand times. Weekends. The inevitable battle between myself and Brandon's buddies, all of us vying for his time and attention. It was just an eternal and crushing disappointment that I never seemed to triumph. One day out of the two, I could cope with. But more often than not these days, Brandon was making arrangements to see them on both days of the weekend. I couldn't say it didn't hurt. Because it did, and what was worse, Brandon knew that it did. Oh, don't get me wrong. It's not like he didn't care. I could always see the wary tension creep across his fa