by Amy Sparling
“Looks like it,” I say. The headlights turn off as they park.
“No! I was having fun with just us!” Jensen whines.
It makes me smile, despite how terrible I’ve felt since earlier today when Max’s girlfriend yelled at me through text messages. “Why do you like when it’s just us?” I ask him.
“You’re more fun than mommy and daddy!” he says with a big grin.
I pull him into a hug. “Thanks, buddy.”
I wish I was still a little kid who only cared about playing with toys and staying up past my bedtime. Growing up sucks. Thinking you’ve met someone awesome only to discover that they’re a lying jerk with a girlfriend is not my idea of fun.
When my parents come inside, they are bursting with happiness and good vibes, or whatever it is they teach you at marriage retreats. They look like they’ve just become millionaires or something.
“How’d it go?” I ask as I get squeezed into a hug by Mom, followed by another one from Dad.
“It was wonderful,” Mom says, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “But we missed you both!”
“How about some dinner?” Dad says as he scoops up Jensen into a big bear hug.
“We kind of ate all of the frozen pizzas,” I say.
“You ate four frozen pizzas in two days?” Mom says with a laugh.
I shrug. “Yep.”
Dad laughs. “I hope you’re still hungry, because I was thinking of going to Sam’s Boat!”
“Yay!” Jensen bellows.
Despite the name, Sam’s Boat is a restaurant, not a boat. It’s not even shaped like a boat, which is the ironic thing. But it is on the water, and you can eat at a table on the boardwalk that overlooks the lake. It’s Jensen’s favorite restaurant because of the location, but the rest of us love it because the food is amazing. It’s also expensive, which means my parents are in a really good mood tonight. We usually only go there twice a year for birthdays or special occasions.
“I’ll go get dressed,” I say. The excitement of the last few minutes manages to make me totally forget about Max. But then five minutes later, it all comes back to me, making my heart ache in this pathetic way. I mean, I didn’t even know the guy in person. Why is my heart physically aching?
I sigh as I open my closet door and look for something to wear. I have to do my best to get over this. Move on. Think of other things.
He was just a stupid guy. A stupid anonymous guy.
He was also someone I talked to for two days straight. Someone I felt I connected with on so many levels. He wasn’t like any other guy I’ve ever talked to.
Not anymore, Jess. I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop thinking about Max. It’s over.
At the restaurant, my parents sit next to each other and Jensen and I sit opposite of them at our table on the boardwalk. They keep making these lovey-dovey eyes at each other and it’s so gross.
I mean, normally I’m pretty happy to have parents who still love each other after twenty years of marriage. So many of my friends don’t have that luxury and are forced into custody battles and yelling matches when their parents see each other. I don’t have that and I should be grateful, but for right now, I hate love.
I hate boys. I hate dating. I hate thinking about anything like that.
So when my dad puts his hand on top of Mom’s hand and smiles at her and they get lost in each other’s eyes, I almost throw up.
“Jensen, let’s look for birds,” I say, turning toward the water to our right.
There are no birds out here, but I look for them anyway.
Finally, the waitress brings our food and my parents are forced to stop flirting with each other to eat their meal. Thank God. We talk about Jensen’s Lego creations and school and frozen pizzas. I try to talk as much as possible, because when I’m in conversation about stupid things, I’m not thinking of Max.
It’s all going pretty well, and I can even feel my chest getting a little lighter. A little less painful. I tell myself he was a nobody. I don’t even know what he looks like, so it’s like he doesn’t even exist. That helps me start to get over him, I think.
My parents are so happy they tell us to order dessert, which my brother totally loves. I get an ice cream sundae. I’m about to take my first bite when my phone starts ringing.
“Sorry!” I tell my parents, who have this rule where we have to turn off the volume on our phones during family meal times. But I hadn’t even thought to do that to my phone because Abigail only Snaps me and that sound is so quiet no one would hear it anyway.
“It’s probably a wrong number,” I say, reaching into my purse.
At first, I think that’s what it is—some random telemarketer or something. But then I recognize the numbers on the screen.
They’re the same numbers scrawled on that piece of paper from the dog park.
Max.
“You okay?” Mom says, her brows pulling together in concern. “You look sick.”
“Yeah,” I say, shoving my phone back in my purse. “I think maybe I ate too much.”
“That’s too bad,” Dad says.
“Can I have your ice cream?” Jensen asks. I laugh, but it doesn’t take away the pounding of my heart.
“Sure,” I say, sliding it over to him.
A few seconds later, my phone vibrates, and I sneak a glance at the screen while my parents aren’t looking. I have a new voice mail message from Max.
Or maybe it’s from his girlfriend.
All I know is that I’m terrified to check it.
Chapter 7
I tell myself to be strong. I tell myself to delete the stupid voice message just like I deleted our texts, and to move on with my life. But, after an hour of thinking it over in my bedroom, I decide to listen to it.
I bite my lip and press play.
“Hey Jess, It’s Max. I just felt bad that we haven’t talked all day, so I thought I’d call because calls are more personal, you know? Anyhow, I hope you had a great Sunday. Text me tomorrow! Goodnight.”
Chills prickle over my arms. I press replay and listen to it again. Here he is, in voice form. He sounds so cute, it’s ridiculous. He also sounds…I don’t know.like he’s actually upset that we didn’t talk today.
Then I realize what’s going on. He didn’t know his girlfriend messaged me. He probably has no idea. This realization eases my pain a little. I mean, he’s still an ass, but at least he wasn’t sitting there laughing over my stupidity while she texted me. I have been imagining that all day long and it’s the worst sort of embarrassment.
No, instead, she probably sneakily did it, and he has on idea and he still plans on talking to me. What a pig. Maybe he also cheats on his girlfriend in real life, too. Ugh.
I delete the voice message and I go to sleep, promising myself that by the morning, I would have forgotten what his voice sounds like.
♥ ♥ ♥
On Monday morning, I wake up to the sound of my brother whining that he doesn’t want to get dressed for school. Mom sounds exasperated as she tells him he can’t wear superhero pajamas to kindergarten. I snort to myself as I get dressed and brush my hair in front of my vanity mirror. Looks like things are back to normal at the Parker house.
Abigail picks me up in the shiny used-but-new-to-her SUV her parents bought her for her sixteenth birthday three months ago. We used to ride the bus together but now that she has wheels, we’re officially students who arrive in the student parking lot. One of these days, I hope to get my own car, but I’ll need to get a job to pay for the gas an insurance first.
“So,” she says, batting her eyelashes at me in this sarcastic way. “Anything new with your anonymous text boy?”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Okay, now we have to talk about it,” she says, studying my face for clues. “Oh my God. Did he send a picture? Is he ugly?”
“No,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“So he’s hot?” she squeals.
“Nope.”
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She frowns. “I’m confused. Is he medium-looking?”
“I have no idea what he looks like, Ab. We didn’t get to the sending a picture phase of our friendship because his girlfriend decided to text me back on his phone and tell me to get lost.”
“Oh crap,” she breathes. “Are you serious?”
I nod as a lump forms in my throat. “So apparently he’s just another jerk guy who cheats on his girlfriend and has no moral values at all. So yeah, can we not talk about him?”
“Never speaking of him again,” she says, pulling her fingers over her mouth like there’s an imaginary zipper there.
I smile. “Thanks. You’re the best friend ever.”
“Actually, not really. I’m the idiot who dared you to text a random number.” She frowns. “I’m sorry, Jess.”
I shrug it off. “It’s not your fault. It was fun. The dare part, at least.”
“Maybe next time being dared to do something will actually pay off,” she says, offering me a hopeful smile.
We park and grab our backpacks and start heading into school.
“Maybe,” I say with a sigh.
In first period, I’m sneakily sending Snaps to Abigail and our other friend Natalie while my history teacher talks about the Civil War.
Mr. Hawkins is only twenty-six years old, and he’s totally hot. It’s embarrassing to admit that I’ve spent just about every day in history class staring dreamily at his sculpted features, five o’clock shadow, and charming blue eyes. But today I’m just not feeling it. Max had made me feel so special through our texts, and now I feel so unbelievably betrayed. It’s like I can’t even appreciate my hot teacher anymore.
I hate all boys now.
I’m staring at my phone, waiting for Abigail’s new message to come in, when another message lights up my phone screen.
It’s Max. Even though he’s no longer saved a as contact in my phone, I pretty much have his number memorized, no matter how much I hate that fact.
Max: Morning! How’s school?
I grit my teeth and delete the message. But then a few minutes later, another one appears.
Max: I’m assuming you can text in class…because everyone else does, lol. If not, then text me during lunch or something.
Max: I miss talking to you! :)
Someone should give him an award for World’s Biggest Liar. He doesn’t miss me. And if for some reason he does, then maybe he should take a hard look at himself and stop being a cheating bastard. He has a girlfriend. He should miss her. And although I really loved talking to him before I discovered his secret love life, I’m not so pathetic of a girl to be taken advantage of like this. I am better than this.
I delete the rest of his messages.
In third period, his stupid number appears on my phone again.
Max: :( Where did you go?
I can’t take it anymore. I hit reply.
Me: Can you stop texting me?
Max: Did you get in trouble at school? My HS was pretty lenient with phones.
Me: This has nothing to do with texting in class. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.
Max: Oh… can I ask why?
Me: BECAUSE YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. LEAVE ME ALONE.
I let out a sigh so loud it makes two people sitting in front of me turn around with quizzical expressions. I just shrug and look away. If Max was even a halfway decent human being, he’d stop texting me once I told him I knew about his girlfriend.
But he must be a terrible human being, because a few minutes later, I get another text.
And it’s even worse than the rest of them.
Max: Huh? I don’t have a girlfriend.
Chapter 8
I’m so angry I don’t even breathe as I read over his message a few times. He is such a liar. Why are guys like this?
I want to ask him why. I want to yell at him. I want to send a million text messages telling him exactly how wrong it is to flirt with a girl and make her think you’re a great guy, when really, you’re just some lying cheating scumbag.
Instead, I try to take the high road. I put my phone away and pretend like I care about my school work. By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve probably missed a ton of Snaps from my friends but I don’t even care. I don’t want to look at my phone right now. I keep it safely stored in my backpack and then I shove it in my locker before I go meet my friends for lunch.
Abigail can probably tell why I’m upset, but she doesn’t say anything because she’s such a great friend. She keeps the conversation going at our lunch table, talking about the party and other topics that don’t involve me or boys. I’m grateful for her.
I hold out all day until last period, which is my English class. It’s the most boring class I have, and today we have a substitute teacher, which means the time is going to drag by. Our teacher has left a movie for us to watch. Some boring old film about the English language. Our substitute teacher leans back in the teacher’s chair and plays on her phone the whole time, so the rest of us do the same thing. I’m sitting in the back row, alone, and my phone is burning a hole in my backpack with how badly I want to check it.
Finally, I give in.
Max: Seriously, Jess. What gave you that idea? I’m single. Very single.
Max: My last girlfriend was like two years ago. We didn’t even date that long because she freaked out over everything and was super jealous all the time. I already told you about this, actually.
Max: Who told you I had a girlfriend? Was it some idiot friend of mine? If so, he was joking, I swear.
Max: Jess? Talk to me, please?
Max: I promise I haven’t lied to you.
Wow, he’s good. He actually sounds sincere. Maybe that’s easier to pull off in a text. I bet in real life, it’d be obvious that he’s lying, but via text he can say whatever he wants. I wonder why he’s doing this? Does it make him feel cool to have random girls fawning over him? Ugh.
I stare at my phone as the movie plays and I think of several things I could write back, but I stay strong and ignore him. It feels good knowing he wishes I’d reply. I hope he’s bothered by the fact that he can’t win me over so easily.
Another message pops up on my screen.
Max: I’m really sorry for whatever changed in the last day. Talking to you has been a total lifesaver while I’m taking care of my mom. Ever since I had to quit school, my friends have been dropping off one by one because I can’t hang out with them anymore.
Max: It just felt nice to talk to someone. You seemed like a really cool girl.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
Me: I am cool, Max. I’m nice and considerate and I look out for my friends. I’m always there when they need me, and I do whatever it takes for the people I care about. But you don’t care about any of that. You have a girlfriend and you thought it’d be fun to flirt with another girl on the side. That’s not cool, Max.
Max: Seriously, Jess! I promise you! I have NO girlfriend at all!
Me: What are you trying to do here? Make me believe you so we can keep texting? What’s the point?
Max: Yes, I want you to believe me. Both because I’m telling the truth and because you were so much fun to talk to. I don’t want to lose you.
Me: You don’t even know me.
Max: I know enough to know I want to know you.
Me: Well I know enough to know that you’re a lying, cheating, scumbag.
Max: Not fair. I am no such thing.
Me: I just rolled my eyes so hard I think they’re broken now.
Max: If you want to hate me, hate me. But please tell me what gave you the idea that I’m dating someone?
Me: hmm, let’s see.
Me: Maybe the fact that she YELLED AT ME when I texted you on Sunday morning.
Max: How? Who?
Me: I texted you and you wrote back. Only it wasn’t you. It was a girl saying she was your girlfriend. She told me to stop texting you, so I did.
Max: There is no such thing on my
phone.
Me: Because she clearly deleted the texts after sending them.
Max: Okay but that doesn’t even make sense because there is no girl.
Me: Well then your phone is haunted.
Max: Can you screenshot me a picture of what the texts say?
Me: No, because I deleted them.
The bell rings, startling me out of my texting argument. I jump, and blink my eyes after some idiot turns on the lights. I shove my phone in my back pocket and then gather my backpack and make my way down to Abigail’s locker.
“You’re never going to believe what stupid lie Max is telling me now,” I say.
She lifts a brow. “I thought we weren’t talking about him.”
“We’re not. So I’ll make this quick.”
I tell her about what happened in English class, and then she looks over my phone as we walk out to her car.
“This is so weird,” she says, handing my phone back. “I mean…I don’t want to sound crazy here, but he sounds really sincere. Like…he’s telling the truth.”
“I know.” I climb into the passenger side of her car. “That just means he’s an excellent liar.”
“Then forget him,” she says, flashing me a grin. “Music will make you feel better.” She starts her car and then blasts hip-hop from her stereo.
I grin back at her and sing along to the song, trying really hard to forget about Max. The good thing is that he still hasn’t replied. Maybe he realized how deep of a hole he dug for himself and now he can’t get out of it. Maybe he’ll finally leave me alone for good.
Of course, I was wrong to be so optimistic.
At night, when I’m blow drying my hair and watching Netflix on my laptop, my phone lights up. This time he’s calling me.
My heart pounds so hard I have to take a deep breath to calm myself down. But it doesn’t really help, because I decide to do something really stupid.
“Hello?”