The Boyfriend Dilemma Read Free Page A

next to me is empty. I look up at the boy and he smiles down at me. It’s the biggest, sunniest smile I’ve ever seen. His eyes are so blue they’re almost unreal, and his honey-ish hair is just the right kind of messy, all mussed around his face. Sensing my cheeks flushing hot, I quickly focus on my plate.
    â€œYou can sit next to Layla,” Mum prompts him with a smile, as if she’s a little bit impressed by this newcomer too. “Oh, I am being rude,” she adds. “I haven’t introduced you to everyone, have I?”
    â€œThat’s OK,” Ben says brightly, perching on the stool beside me. My heart starts rattling along at about twice its normal speed.
    â€œThat’s Amber,” Mum continues. “She’s eight. And this is Frances – we don’t talk about your age, do we, Mum?”
    Gran sniggers and takes a noisy slurp of her tea. “Don’t mind me with my shoes off,” she says. “My bunions are hurting—”
    â€œOh dear,” Ben says with a sympathetic smile.
    â€œYou do have slippers,” Mum reminds her gently as Amber’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. Great. First impression Ben has of our family, and Gran introduces her poorly feet. “And this is Layla,” Mum adds. “She’s the one in the middle…”
    â€œHi,” I murmur, wishing she didn’t describe me like that whenever we meet someone new.
    â€œHi, Layla,” Ben says. I smile, trying to look relaxed, and take a sip of tea from the “Layla” mug Zoe brought me back from holiday last year. I reach for a waffle but it tastes like cardboard, even with Nutella smeared on. I take another sip of tea and pray that Gran keeps her feet on the floor and doesn’t try to show everyone her bunions. When someone raps on the front door (no one ever gets around to putting new batteries in the doorbell), I almost cry out in relief and leap up to answer it. At least a few seconds away from the table will give my face a chance to cool down.
    â€œHey,” Zoe says, all smiles, her long blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Her T-shirt and jeans look brand new, and she smells great. Zoe has a choice of expensive perfumes, while I just use the cheapest body sprays Mum gets me from the supermarket.
    â€œCome in,” I say, wanting to tell her all about Ben but knowing we’ll have to wait until later to discuss him.
    â€œHi, Zoe,” Mum says. “Have you had breakfast, love?”
    â€œNo, it was a bit of a rush this morning…” She grins at me, as if to say, Wait till I tell you , then her expression changes as she spots the new person at our table.
    â€œThis is Ben, a friend of Kyle’s,” Mum explains, putting a big jug of orange juice on the table.
    â€œHi,” Zoe says quickly. Mum fetches Gran’s chair from the yard and squeezes it in between Kyle and Jude. Now that Zoe’s here, I feel less outnumbered by boys. My only worries are:
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Am I managing to eat nicely, like a thirteen year old should be perfectly capable of doing, or have I somehow smeared Nutella around my mouth?
Are the purple tights a bit much?
And the patterned shirt? I loved it when I found it in Oxfam but does it look like I stole it off Gran?
What I’m going to say as BEN IS TALKING DIRECTLY TO ME?!
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    â€œEr … sorry?” I blurt out, realizing I haven’t heard a word. All I can think is, his eyes are as blue as that blue angelfish we had at primary school – the one that attacked all the other fish until there were no others left in the tank.
    â€œCould you pass me the juice please?” Ben asks politely.
    â€œ Suuuuurre, ” I drawl, which comes out sounding ridiculous – like I’ve turned American or something. Jude gives me a confused look and Zoe widens her eyes. I reach for the jug and clonk it down in front of him.
    â€œCould I have the butter as well,