Effortless With You Lizzy Charles 4 page

“Lucy is not sick!” He says between gasps. The doorbell rings and he pushes me away. His new chore is opening the front door and he takes it very seriously. I pretend to hold him captive but let go when I notice his smile turning into frustration. He clobbers down the stairs. “No, Daddy. -y job!” I close my bedroom door, only hearing muffles from below.

Dried sweat cakes my skin. Nasty. I step into the shower, using my loofah like iron wool on the visible layers of dirt on my skin. There, clean. I grab some jeans and a tank top off my floor and throw my hair back in a bun. It’s time to get out of this house. It is only ten in the morning. Marissa is definitely still asleep. Maybe Eric will want to walk to the park with me?

BZZZ. My phone. Zach.

Zach: Crazy is right. Grabbing burgers with guys tonight. You and Marissa in?

My heart relaxes. I had no idea it was so tightly wound. He still wants to see me.

Me: Sounds yummy. I’ll check with Marissa. But I’ll be there.

Zach: Oh, you’ll have more fun if Marissa comes too. It’ll get boring.

My heart twists again. Rejection.

But maybe Zach is right? I imagine myself sitting at the end of a table filled with his lacrosse friends. I’d have no idea what to say and look like an idiot. I send Marissa a quick text. She’ll say yes; she rarely turns down an opportunity to hang out with a group of guys.

What to wear? I find my favorite tank top wrinkled with a peanut-butter smear down the front. I gather the rest of the dirty clothes that carpet my floor and bring them all downstairs to do laundry. Eric’s voice chimes from the kitchen. Talking to himself again. Cute. I swing open the door, but it doesn’t open more than an inch. I hear a low grunt and then the pressure releases, allowing the door to swing open.

My stomach drops. Justin is blocking my view of our white-and-black checkered floor.

Perfect. Am I even wearing makeup? Not that it matters around him. Barfing in front of him trumps not wearing mascara any day. Humiliation.

Justin holds a truck in hand. Eric sits next to him, pointing to his trucks and explaining, “That truck is Bert.” Justin looks up at me and flashes his favorite smile. “Have you met Bert, Lucy?”

I roll my eyes, “Really, here?” His light laugh rolls as he smashes Bert into a gold matchbox car. The screen door opens and Mom and Dad walk in.

“Lucy, I was just about to call you,” Dad says. Justin stands up and Dad pats his back. Excellent. They are buddies. “Justin stopped in to check on you.” Dad smiles at me indicatively.

No, Dad. Way off.

Justin picks up on my Dad’s smile and interjects, “Well, actually, my uncle sent me. As the owner he feels it’s important to check on any employee who falls sick or gets injured on the job. He has a business meeting,” he explains.

Mom speaks in her fake sweet voice, “Well, isn’t that nice? You’re lucky, Lucy, working for such a great company.”

Working? As if I still am? Whoa. I must’ve missed something. What about the hospitalization? It never even occurred to me that I’d be returning.

“So,” Justin looks at me. “How are you feeling?”

Eric answers for me. “Good. Lucy is not sick. She’s all better!” He looks up at me, so proud of his sentences.

I pat him on the head, “That’s right, buddy. I’m all better now.” Eric seems satisfied and zooms a car into Mom’s foot. She scoops him off the ground and cuddles him in a hug; he sticks his jellied face into her neck.

My eyes dart away. I don’t get to have any memories of doing that with Mom. Her depression stole all opportunity from me. My preschool friends’ moms used to do the same rocking hug after our holiday concerts. But Mom couldn’t even make it to hear me sing. She just sat empty on the couch, waiting for nothing. The only fun memories I have is when I was Eric’s age and we watered plants together every day. Her therapy had started. She’d get off the couch, teaching me about each plant and we’d talk to them while watering, encouraging them to grow. But when she finally got better, I was too old for those sorts of hugs.

“Anymore fainting?” Justin asks.

“Nope. I’m one hundred percent.”

“When do you feel able to return to work? Any restrictions?” Justin acts so professional in front of my parents.

“Umm …” I look at Dad. He shakes his head and looks toward Mom. I can’t believe it. They’re still expecting me to do this.

“How about I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can see how you handle it?” Justin offers.

I'm defeated. “Fine,” I mutter. At least I won’t have to be stuck at home with Mom all day. There’s no way she’s going to let me hang out at the pool with Marissa if I'm not well enough to work. I open the kitchen door, hinting at Justin to leave.

Justin takes my lead. “Well, Mrs. Zwindler. It was nice to see you again. Mr. Zwindler, always a pleasure.” My parents respond with enthusiastic goodbyes. Why does he have to act so perfect around them? He’s so fake. Justin looks back at me. “Lucy, I have your lunch bag in my car.”

“Right,” I sigh. Why didn’t he just bring it in with him? I walk out, leaving him behind. He can follow when he's ready. I sit down on the front porch; his appreciation for the fertilized tulip bulbs floats out the window. His mom is apparently very excited. Yeah, right. I picture the tulip bulbs abandoned in a trash can or, more likely, flung onto the side of the road.

Finally, the front door swings open and he steps out alone. “So, Lucind-”

“Don’t call me Lucinda.” I stand up, crossing the lawn to his truck.

“Why not? It’s your name.”

I groan. “Just don’t.”

“No problem. Lucinda is too proper for you anyway. You threw up in my front seat. A Lucinda wouldn’t have done that.”

I cringe. Justin opens the passenger door. I walk over, bracing myself for the smell of vomit. Instead, a lemon-fresh scent greets me. Scrubbed swirls decorate the floored upholstery.

“I’ll pay you back. How much did it cost?”

He lifts his eyebrow. “What cost?”

“The interior cleaning.”

“Oh, nothing.” He shrugs. “I did it myself.”

“You cleaned up my puke?”

“Someone had to do it.” He shrugs again while reaching under the seat to grab my lunch bag. “So,” Justin chuckles and looks back at me with a smug look on his face. “I learned a lot about you yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.”

“Like what?” I want to ignore him but I can’t. I need to know.

“Well, you have more to say than you let people know. Also, you are not my number-one fan. And you throw a good punch.” He points to his eye. I step close to him, he smells like mountains. I breathe through my mouth. A light crescent bruise rests under his red, broken-vesseled eye. I hadn’t noticed it before because it is easier to find comebacks when I don’t make prolonged eye contact.

“Sorry.” I apologize before I can think. “You probably deserved it though.” I don’t want him to add the knight-in-shining-armor complex to his ego.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I can’t tell if he is being sarcastic or not. Does he actually feel like he deserved it? Because he did.

He lets his bright green eyes linger on mine. I look away. I'm not falling for that charm. We stand in silence for a moment. He pulls out his phone, returns a text, and checks the time. “Well, I’ve got to get back to the house. Alex hasn’t shut up about you. He thinks this is his fault. He’s dying to find out if you are okay.”

“He told me to eat and drink from the hose. Not his fault.”

“Right, that’s what I told him. You’re the one who decided to run a mile and refuse to eat. Smart choices, Zwindler.”

“Just leave, okay? I already have to deal with you tomorrow.”

He jumps in the driver’s seat and rolls down the window. “We’ll see if you can handle it.” He winks the eye I punched. I wish I had punched harder. “Lucy,” Justin throws my lunch bag out the window toward me. It lands just short of my feet. “Bring food. Don’t be a liability.” The truck sputters away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Zach smiles when he sees me get out of the car. With his arms wrapped around me, we sway in the parking lot while he talks with Matt, the junior lacrosse captain, about upcoming practices. I love it. Things are simple with Zach. He doesn’t need to say hello or ask how I am. He knows I need him the moment he looks at me. It’s nice to know I'm dating a guy who automatically opens his arms when I need it.

“Come on, lovebirds.” Marissa tugs on Zach’s arm. “Let’s eat.” Zach un-wraps his arms and takes my hand.

“Sounds good,” Matt adds quietly. He walks out in front of us, confident in walking alone. Marissa positions herself next to Matt to chat, leaning in toward him and casually bumping him with her arm. She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Matt smiles back, becoming more and more interested in whatever she is talking about.

I sigh. I like Matt. He’s in my math class and never asks stupid questions and takes perfectly formatted notes. His kind smile becomes a loose, goofy grin around Marissa. I wish she would have chosen another guy to flirt with. Matt isn’t the type of guy that deserves to be treated like a toy.

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting in Old Minnie after we walk through the door. Deep mahogany booths are the only seating option and in the corner stands a large, carved bar. Off of the dining area are pool tables and old arcade games. Top-40 music covers the constant hum of conversation. It’s the perfect neighborhood bar and grill. Marissa’s choice, of course.

We all slide into our booth. I grab Zach’s attention, before his teammates can.

“Zach,” I touch his arm. He puts his hand over mine. “How was practice today?”

“Awesome, the guys killed the drills. We’re gonna be unstoppable this year. Right?” Zach high-fives Chaz across the table. I re-touch his arm, bringing him back to me.

“How was your day?” he asks.

“Honestly? Kind of crappy. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through.”

“I bet. Your mom’s a crazy mess. I’m sure you’ve had a hell of a time.”

I groan. “I know, right?” Zach is good at sympathizing. “They actually made me get a job.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I’ve been painting for Purposeful Painting Inc. It’s basically boot camp.”

“Oh, that’s like Justin’s crew, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, that must suck. What an egomaniac.”

“I know. He seriously drives me crazy. The way he’s always pulling his hands through his hair. What’s with that?”

Zach pauses, his temple throbbing. “He thinks he’s a god. The moral absolute,” he says as he squeezes his hand around the salt shaker. I love that I'm dating a guy who sees through Justin’s crap. Zach’s hand turns red, his knuckles white. Will the shaker break? I haven’t ever handled Zach when he was angry and I don’t want to tonight. I want tonight to be relaxing.

“He’s totally not worth it.” I scan the room for a distraction. I notice an advertisement on the table top for their new two-pound burger. I point to the ad. “Zach, do you think you can handle it?” He’s the competitive type; easily distracted by a challenge. I watch his grip loosen on the salt.

“With my appetite?” Zach often brags about his stomach being a bottomless pit. “Babe, I’d need two.” He throws a rolled-up piece of his napkin at Miguel, getting his attention. “Are you guys in? How many can we eat?” Zach stands up and flags the waitress down.

Matt and Marissa join the booth, pulling up two chairs to the end of the table. Zach orders everyone the burger. He orders himself two. Marissa protests, it’ll totally ruin her figure. Inevitably, all the guys check her out.

She leans her chair in toward Zach. “You can’t make me eat it,” she says slowly. Wait, is she fake flirting with Zach for a reaction? I watch her quickly pull away from him. No. That was just her way of trying to be in control.

Marissa is acutely aware of her sex appeal. She switches spots with Miguel because she can’t be comfortable in her skirt on a chair. Miguel doesn’t protest as he eyes Marissa’s legs. She sits kitty-corner on the booth from me now, smartly positioning herself between Matt and Chaz, who have huge biceps. Marissa bats her eyelashes. I seriously thought they only did that in old Hollywood films.

She’s having a blast.

The burgers arrive and loud, competitive chaos follows. Zach easily wins the chowing competition. Marissa doesn’t touch hers. I eat a quarter of my burger and that's only because Zach cheered me on. The meat sits heavy and slows everything down. All I want to do is go back to Zach’s arms around me and talking. Will Zach and I ever get time alone? A chance to connect?

The odds are not in my favor. Zach and Matt are running new offensive strategies by Chaz and Miguel. I barely understand what they’re saying. Lacrosse is a mystery sport to me. I prefer games played on a court, like basketball or tennis, rather than a field. Marissa keeps trying to interject her thoughts about new ideas for shots for the school yearbook. They ignore her.

“Enough, men. Why don’t we play a little pool?” Marissa stands up and stretches next to the table. “Will someone teach me? I need a teammate.” Marissa turns, bending down to grab her purse to make the perfect butt view. I blush for her. Chaz and Miguel stand, shoving one another out of the way. Matt looks at me. I cuddle close to Zach. I want to stay. Matt nods, pushes his chair away from the table and follows.

We are finally alone. Zach looks down at me and smiles.

“So,” I don’t know where to begin.

“So?” He lightly cups his hand on my chin, tilting it up toward him. “So,” he says again. He looks me in the eyes before bringing his lips to my mouth. He moves his hand around my back, holding me and pressing himself to me. His mouth moves too fast and my head starts to spin. I grab a breath during one of his pauses, trying to reorient to the situation.

We are in a family restaurant. Making out in a booth.

In front of everyone.

I lightly press my hand to his chest. “Zach.” He moves in closer, kissing me farther into the corner. I pretend to laugh. “Zach, not here.” I push my hand against his chest a bit harder. I don’t want to be that couple. He tries kissing me again but I duck away.

“Fine,” he says, pulling away from me. “So?”

“Can we just talk a bit?”

He shrugs. “If that’s what you want.” His hand moves back to the salt shaker. He starts pouring salt out in a little mountain on the table.

“It’s not that I don’t like kissing you. You’re really good at it.” I nudge him. He gives me his crooked smile. “I just want to tell you about the hospital.”

“The hospital? What happened?” The salt mountain grows larger. I scoot closer and interlace my fingers in his salt-shaker free hand. I tell him about the fainting and the emergency room. The salt shaker is almost empty so I skip everything about my parents. When I get to the nurse’s part, his eyes drift toward the billiards room. I have to admit, he isn’t the best listener. I change topics mid-sentence, trying to reel him back in.

“So then I guess I punched Justin. He’s got a big black eye,” I exaggerate.

Zach's attention returns. “That’s my girl. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

I knew I liked you for a reason. Was he trying to remember this whole time why he liked me?

“Listen, how about we go play pool? I’m amazing. You can be on my team.” He stands up and holds out his hand.

I hold in a sigh. That’s the last thing I want to do. I know guys aren’t like characters in the movies that sweep you off your feet, but it’d be nice if he had a bit more patience for my story. But there’s no use forcing someone to listen. I reach out, allowing him to lead me to the other room.

Marissa yanks me aside when we arrive. “What’s wrong with you? I just saw you completely smothered by Zach at the table—”

“I know. I made him stop so people wouldn’t get uncomfortable.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. Why do you look so depressed? You just kissed a super hot guy. Smile or you’ll lose him.” I take a deep breath. Sometimes Marissa can be too pushy. But there’s no way I can confront her here. Not now. She’s always apologetic when I point it out to her in private. She doesn’t do well with confrontation in public. So, I give her my best smile.

“Good,” she whispers.

Drama avoided.

“Who’s up for a new game? Teams?” Zach announces. “So Lucy and I versus Matt and Miguel?” I scan the room, looking for a way out. I suck at pool. I spot a familiar bushy head of hair. Alex smiles and waves at me.

“Actually, Zach, I need to go take care of something.” I nod toward Alex waving at the other end of the room.

“Oh, is that one of your new painting geeks?”

“Something like that.” I want to say that he is actually nice but the look on Zach’s face makes me stop. He glares at Alex, obviously not a fan.

“Suit yourself. I’m not really into hanging out with kids.”

“Want to win a game with me?” Marissa asks Zach.

I bite the inside of my cheek. This is so wrong. I don’t need to watch Marissa fake flirt anymore, especially if it involves Zach. I’d rather hang out with kids.

Alex’s smile grows as I walk over. At least someone likes me.

“Lucy, you’re alive!” He gives me a quick hug.

“Yup.” I hug him back.

Alex turns and taps a cute freckled girl on the shoulder. “Sally, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is my girlfriend Sally.” I smile back. Her rich red hair is fixed in a cute, chopped bob, which her flowing tank dress and Converse shoes only accentuate. She has that 1950’s glamorous build to her in cute, punk clothing.

“Your boyfriend tried to save my butt the other day,” I explain. “He’s a smart guy.” Alex beams and Sally looks up at him with green doe eyes. I wonder if that’s how Zach and I look together.

“Smart? Are you sure you’ve got the right guy?” She nudges Alex in the side and he laughs. She’s playful, perfect for him.

“Sally’s a genius and loves to let me know it.” Alex turns to her. “Lucy’s the girl I’ve been telling you about. The one who got sick. You know, the girl who punched Justin in the hospital.”

“How’d you know I punched him?”

“I was in the truck bed. When Justin came out of the ER, he had a bag of ice on his eye. He told me to shove it. Solid punch, Lucy.” He puts his arm around Sally, being a good boyfriend. She is his priority.

“When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’m going to be the best painter ever,” I lie.

“You ready for that ladder again?” he asks as he rubs Sally’s shoulder.

“Absolutely, all the way up.” Alex’s friends shuffle behind him, pool sticks and chalk in hand. “Well, I’ll let you go. See you in the morning?”

“Bright and early.”

I return to Zach’s side and watch him win their doubles game. He puts his arm around me and I blush. He loves wrapping his arm around me. Marissa winks at me on the way to the restroom.

“Darts?” Zach nods toward the board across the room where a group of guys have gathered. Throwing a dart in front of all of those guys doesn’t promise a shining moment for me. Or for Zach.

“Uh, not really. But, listen, that doesn’t mean you can’t go play.” I’m a super-relaxed girlfriend. “Wouldn’t bother me a bit.”

“Really? Awesome.” He dashes across the room and grabs the darts out of Matt’s hand.

And there I am again, standing alone.

So, I go to the bathroom. Something to do.

I sit alone in the stall reading graffiti. Jenny <3’s Danny. Payton is a whore. Today, I will make a change! The walls are a mosaic of proclamations of love, life advice, and insults. My right thumb nail is rather sharp. I think about carving in my own life statement. What should I say? Don’t fall off ladders. Not amazing but whatever, it's something to do while Zach plays darts. I start carving the D.

A clicking pair of high heels pass in front of my stall and the sink turns on. I see a pair of Converse sneakers pass in front as well. Why did I choose the middle stall? It always feels weird knowing people are standing right in front of me while I'm peeing. Thankfully, I'm just carving the wall.

“Excuse you.” It’s Marissa’s voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the sink would spray you.” The voice is gentle and sweet. Converse shoes. Sally.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t realize that, would you? You are just a stupid, ignorant … like ... what? Twelve year old?” Marissa is looking hard for a fight. Sally looks more like an eighteen-year-old than her true fourteen-year-old self. If Marissa accused twelve, that means she's jealous.

My abs tighten. A jealous Marissa meant for a nasty confrontation. I pick my feet up off the ground, not wanting to be there.

“Oh.” Sally isn’t prepared with a comeback. She shows weakness and Marissa pounces.

“What are you doing in here anyway?”

“Uh, going to the bathroom?”

“Well, this is the girls’ bathroom.”

“I know.” Oh sweet Sally. She is going to have to do better than that.

“Do you? Because with your hair, I’m pretty sure you’re an altar boy from the 1800s.”

“I—”

“Actually, no. If you were, you’d be skinny. I’m sorry,” Marissa’s heels click closer. “I was mistaken. You look more like a state-fair swine. All those pink, red, and disorderly freckles.”

Marissa is really stretching for insults. This only strengthens Sally’s case for being gorgeous. But, at fourteen, how can she know?

“Let me guess,” Marissa continues. “You had an entire burger for dinner?” Marissa waits for an answer which, thankfully, Sally doesn’t provide. “You did, didn’t you? Honey, if you want to look great like me, you can only eat a few bites.” Marissa’s heels click toward the door and then the door squeaks closed. Finally.

The sniffing starts. I watch the Converse shoes cross in front of my stall. The stall next to mine creaks open and shut. Her sniffing grows more urgent. The toilet-paper holder clangs against my stall’s wall. She sobs and blows her nose.

I want to give her privacy but I can’t. As far as she knows, she and Marissa were alone. The thought of being fourteen and having a senior rip you apart while her junior friend listened is enough to destroy any girl. She doesn’t need to know I was here.

I wait with my arms hugging my legs up on the toilet seat, barely breathing. Sally sniffles and her occasional sobs sound like they could be my own.

The toilet-paper roll clangs against my stall’s wall. One last sniff before Converse shoes walk out to the sink. Water splashes, the best way to calm a tear-stained face. The door squeaks open and shut. I'm alone.

I release my grip on my knees and my insides collapse. I should have opened the stall door and told Marissa to stop the moment she said “Excuse me.” I should have given Sally a hug and comforted her or at least explained how Marissa works. But no, I picked up my feet, hugging them to my chest on a toilet seat. How have I come to this?

I wash my hands out of habit and return to the pool room. My gut churns. Sally sits on a stool, Alex standing behind her giving her a slow, rocking hug. A smile is plastered on her face, trying to hold it all together. Alex whispers in her ear and she temporarily drops her smile, nodding. He takes her hand and leads her from the room. I'm impressed. He’s an in-tune boyfriend.

I jump when a hand suddenly rests on my shoulder. It’s ridiculous how easy I jump. But after that year of the seniors torturing me in the locker room, I just can’t help it.

“Marissa and I are going to run out to her car.” Zach rubs his chin.

“Yeah, you know my front tire? How it screeches when I turn left? Zach says he’d take a look at it.”

“Oh, okay.” Her front tire did squeak. “I’ll come watch.” I’d love to see Zach looking over a car. Guys like that.

“No need.” Marissa points me back to the pool table. “Stay, play, have fun.”

“Yeah, you can stay here, Lucy. It’ll be totally boring.” Zach pulls me to him, his hands around my waist, and gives me a kiss. “I want you to have a good time tonight.” He smiles down at me and my knees go weak. “Go play pool. I’ll be right back and then I can show you how to throw darts.” I nod. “Just you and me.” He kisses my cheek and then he and Marissa are gone.

I end up at the pool table, fighting a daze. I don’t want to play pool. I want to hang out with Zach and Marissa, watching Zach work on the car. His kiss threw me off. No. I want to be with him. I should be with him. As I turn to leave, I bump into Matt.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He has two pool sticks in hand. “I was just coming over to see if you wanted to shoot with me?” Matt holds out a pool cue.

I relent. Zach will be back soon anyway. “Okay, I suck though.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re just going to shoot. Any ball, any time, any pocket.”

I smile back at him. That, I can do.

I like shooting pool with Matt. He is quiet and simple. He says exactly what he is thinking but never too much. We talk about math class and the final exam. He got a B+ in the class. I tell him I got a C.

“What?” He straightens up in disbelief. “You always aced every pop quiz and test.”

“How’d you know?”

“My last name is Yates. Y before Z. I always correct your exams.” No wonder I always corrected Shaun Anderson’s paper. “So, how did you get a C?”

I cringe. It is one thing to have your parents call you out on your grades, but a classmate?

“Homework.” He looks at me with one eyebrow raised. “I hate busy work.” It's a lame excuse.

“Yeah, busy work sucks. I get that. But, I figure, if you can’t bring yourself to do it now, you’ll just have to do it later. Life happens that way.”

Is he talking about homework or is he being more philosophical? Maybe he’s saying I won’t get into college, so I’ll have crappy jobs the rest of my life. Or does he mean that life is always filled with busy work, so get used to it?

I shoot the number four ball into the left, back pocket. Or, maybe, just maybe, I'm thinking too much.

“I bet your parents were pissed, huh?” he asks.

“Yup. Grounded.”

“Is that why your mom crashed Watson’s party? You snuck out?”

I blush. I didn’t know Matt had been there.

“Exactly.”

Matt takes a shot, sinking two balls. “Then what happened?”

“Oh.” Other than the nurse, no one has asked me that before.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s just. No one’s really wanted to know.” I hate that this is true.

Matt looks at the door that leads to our cars, where Zach and Marissa are. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then,” he rests his chin on top of his pool stick. “What happened?”

“They made me get a job.” And so I start my story. Matt nods and “uhuh’s” with me through my whole story. When I get through the hospital part, he simply says “that sucks,” and he means it.

It feels so good to tell someone who listens. Before I know it, I'm telling him about Justin and how he is driving me crazy mad.

“Oh, don’t sweat it. Justin’s awesome.”

I scrunch up my face. I was worried he’d say that. My respect for Matt falls a few notches. Why can’t regular people see how Justin is only crazy in love with himself?

Matt opens his mouth to explain but I never hear it. Marissa and Zach walk in together. Marissa announces, “Ten o’clock, Lucy. Curfew. Gotta get you home or your mom will kill me.”

I want to crawl under the pool table and die.

Matt scrunches up his nose, studying Marissa and me. He walks with me to the door, pulling me aside as Zach and Marissa leave. “Why her?”

“It’s a long story. She’s not that bad. I mean, she is, but she isn’t. She saved me.”

“Saved you?”

“Again, long story.” Marissa honks her horn. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes. At my birthday party, okay? Don’t miss it. I’ll text you.”

Honk.

“Absolutely.”

Zach waits for me outside Marissa’s car. He opens his arms and I wrap myself in them.

“Thanks for the dinner,” I say, trying to sound intriguing.

“Yup. No sweat.” He pulls out of the hug and looks down at me with a relaxed grin. “I had a fun night.”

“Me too.” I lie.

“I’ll call you tomorrow night, okay?” He opens the passenger door for me and I slide in.

“Oh, okay.” The goodbye is too quick. Marissa starts pulling away and I haven’t even had a chance to kiss him. Oh, okay is the best thing I can come up with. Mental note: plan boyfriend goodbyes in advance.

“I so need a boyfriend.” Marissa hits the steering wheel.

“You will snag the right guy, soon.” She looks at me like I'm crazy. “The Justin plan.” I smile, thinking about how annoyed Justin will become with her reckless pursuit. He deserves it.

“Of course. But that’s not now. With my calculations, it’ll be a month before I can seal that deal. That’s like half the summer.”

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 400