I glanced at Ben, happily nursing his soda and watching the crowd around the pinball machine. She could have done worse.
Not that Ben wasn’t hot. And nice. And funny. And smart.
Okay, wait. Maybe there was more wrong with me than a recent bout of get-dumped-itis and, you know, life. But I’d always gotten the Closed For Business vibe from Ben. I’d noted him dating a couple girls, but it always looked like he was kind of going though the motions.
There had to be something wrong with him to keep him in the single category.
He was polite and considerate and everything you want a guy to be, but typically weren’t aware enough to—
O.M.G. Ben Harrison was gay! How could I not have figured that out before? I checked him out from the corner of my eye. What a shame. He really was the total package. But there’s no way a guy who didn’t date could be that perfect for female consumption and not be gay. He even had a best friend that was a girl. And Emma was a jock. I’m not sure that’s important though.
And yet, I couldn’t work up a full steam of disappointment.
“I’m so sorry about this.” I blurted out after stirring my Diet Coke a couple times with my bendy straw. He must be hating this. I mean, being set up with a potential date was bad enough. Being set up—and put on the spot—for someone outside your dating box must be excruciating.
Ben turned those wasted-on-me ice blue eyes my way, obviously confused about what I was sorry about.
I waved a hand between us. “About this. This really bad set up.”
He glanced toward the counter and back at me, his smile blooming slowly into a dead ringer for George Clooney’s—which come on, even with how old he was didn’t make it any less lethal. Ben’s wasn’t a halfway little grin that just kind of smirks at you, but a full on smile, as if he didn’t know how to give you anything less.
“Oh. This,” he said and then actually winked at me.
You know, all the cool neurotic girls in the movies have gay best friends. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad set up. It’s a horrible stereotype, but we were both in a spot where more good friends was a bonus. Also, he was still very much a guy and I’m not sure I could have given up my role as the flirty, lip glossy friend.
Ben was obviously a good lesson in diversity for all of us.
“I mean, it’s obvious that this isn’t a good idea.” I rushed on, trying not to insult him but let him know everything was cool.
“It isn’t?” There was that confusion again.
“Amy’s worried about me. And I think Luke’s feeling a little guilty.” I glanced toward the counter wondering how long those two could stall for. Of course, they were so involved in each other I wondered if they remembered they were stalling. “Luke’s brother Jared just dumped me. First time getting dumped.”
I tacked on a little laugh that came out sounding a bit sickly.
“That sucks.”
I turned and finally gave Ben Harrison my full attention. No one—not one person—had just said the truth. That it sucked.
I think Amy didn’t really get it. She was finally happy with, not only her first real boyfriend, but Mr. Forever. Not to mention, yeah, I had gone through guys fairly rapidly over the last two years or so. But this one? This meds-free, Mr. Happy-Maker breakup? Yeah. It sucked.
“Thanks.”
“So, we’ll just pretend this is a great idea. Hang out. Have a great night and chalk it up to our friends caring about us.” Intuitive too. See? Total package. Such a waste.
Amy and Luke still stood at the counter, although they’d worked their way to the end and seemed huddled in their own world at that point.
“So, you and Luke? You guys seem tight?” I said I didn’t care. I didn’t say I wasn’t nosy.
Ben glanced toward them too, and nodded. “Yeah. You know, the team’s a competitive place. Lots of jerks. It’s good to just have a nice guy on the field with you. Plus, you know. He’s Luke.”
Oh, God! Every time. Every time I think it couldn’t get worse. This was something I had no idea what to do with. Ben was in love with Luke.
“So, you know, you like Luke?” Could this get any more awkward? Maybe I should just let it go. Maybe Ben didn’t need to be talking about this with an almost stranger.
“Yeah. He’s an easy guy to like.” He glanced toward the couple again, a look I couldn’t quite peg down but looked suspiciously like envy raced through his eyes. “There aren’t many guys like him around.”
“Amen to that.” I raised my cup in a toast.
“And Amy’s great, too,” he rushed on to add. “They’re great together.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to convince me. I know what you’re saying.”
Ben leaned back and looked at me again. “You do?”
“Yeah. I mean, I can’t really imagine being in your situation, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m guessing you’re pretty quiet about it since I’ve never heard any rumors or anything.”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the happy-happy couple again.
“You haven’t?”
When I shook my head, his shoulders dropped. He looked like he’d been walking around with all seven periods of books in his backpack for two weeks and finally gotten to take it off.
Leaning forward, Ben lowered his voice. “I can’t tell you how hard it is.”
Oddly, it was comforting to have someone confessing to me. For once the issue wasn’t mine. And it was a pretty hefty one. Our school wasn’t living in the dark ages, but it wasn’t super liberal either. And I’m pretty sure jocks still strictly lived in the boy-girl-combo dating package box here.
“I know I’m not in a place to say that I know what you mean, but I think everyone feels that way…to an extent. Not being able to have the person they want.”
Ben dropped back against the bench, nodding his head like I’d just given him the keys to some secret soccer guy kingdom.
“It sucks.” His gaze rolled toward the ceiling—focusing out and away. “It feels like it gets harder every day.”
I reached out to squeeze his hand where it sat clasped around his soda.
“And,” he continued. “Who am I going to tell? There’s no one you can really trust with something like this.”
I was so out of my depth, I just gave his hand another squeeze. I did what Dr. Meadows did when I reached my toughest confessions. I waited. I listened.
“Anyone I tell is either going to gossip or tell me to talk to her about—”
“Wait,” I cut in. “Her?’
“Yeah. My friend.” His brows lowered as he studied me. “The one you guessed I liked.”
“It’s a she?”
“Yes, it’s a she.” The whole restaurant turned as Ben shouted the words at me. “Who the hell did you think I was talking about?”
I didn’t mean to glance Luke’s way. You know when you really don’t want to do something, but your body does it anyway? Yeah. My day. The one that couldn’t get worse. Make this a Worse Times Twelve moment.
“Luke?” Ben turned and stared at his friend in disbelief before turning his glare on me, his voice dropping to an angry shouting-whisper. “You thought I was in love with Luke?”
“You said he was a great guy and where would you find another one like him.”
“So?” It was more a demand than a question.
“You never date.”
“I date.”
“Phft. You barely date. It’s like you’re dating to check that off your to-do list.”
“And you date to be taken.”
Ouch.
“Whatever.” When the glaring continued, I continued. “I meant my comment as a compliment. You’re good looking, smart, nice, funny, athletic, just popular enough. You could pick a girl and be done with it. Thus, if you’re single, you’re gay.”
Yeah. It sounded more stupid out loud than it did in my head.
“Not any girl.” Ben’s fingers wrapped around his soda again, and I wondered just how
much we had in common.
We sat—Ben looking at his root beer, me pretending I wasn’t there—for another long moment. I felt horrible. This is what happens when you have the option between going out with friends and just going back to bed.
I totally should have picked bed.
I glanced toward Ben. He didn’t look any happier to be there. He seemed like he was plotting an escape. He definitely was not looking Luke’s way.
“You could tell me.” I blurted it out, surprising even myself. “I mean, I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I’m definitely not someone to be in the advice-giving category right now.”
Ben finally glanced my way again, his face a bit softer than a moment ago.
“I swear, it isn’t nosiness. Not that I’m not totally nosey. But this time, if you just wanted to tell someone, you could tell me.”
By then, Ben had turned in his seat to face me. I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t hard like a moment ago, or embarrassed. It was like he was reading me and wasn’t sure he was translating the Rachel Language into Boy English correctly.
“We’re back.” Amy’s perkiness broke through the sizzle-thick-annoyance-filled moment. Which was odd, because Amy was previously a perk-free person.
“Thank God,” Ben mumbled.
Amy glanced from one of us to the other, her smile firmly in place. Apparently, she’d decided that setting me up was a life-fixer. I was pretty sure failure was not an option in her book.
“So, how are you guys getting along?”
Oh, God, we were moving into Worse Times Thirteen. How was I going to explain to Amy that I alienated Luke’s new best friend? The one he probably really needed since he’d just moved here and the team had divided because of the whole he-got-Amy-but-Chris-got-the-spot thing.
Suddenly, from beside me, Ben laughed. I mean really laughed. The kind that makes your sides hurt. Maybe I wasn’t the only crazy one at the table.
“We’re getting along great,” he said between gasps.
What?
I looked at him, waiting for him to clue them into my embarrassing, potentially insulting blunder.
“Oh.” The smile spread across Amy’s face. I could see how proud of herself she was. She gave Luke a little nudge with her elbow I was pretty sure she thought was inconspicuous.
Which had Ben laughing again.
“What?” Amy’s nose squished a bit as she looked from one of us to the other…pride being replaced by confusion.
Ben was still laughing, so I was pretty sure explaining his erratic behavior was on me.
“We’re getting along great.” I glanced his way and smiled, happy he was finding the humor in this. “Ben’s just so happy about winning the game and hanging out with us…” I leaned across the table, lowering my voice. “I mean, look at him. He could use all the friends he could get.”
“Amy, thanks for inviting me.” Ben tossed an arm across the bench behind me. “It was exactly what I needed.”
Me too.
I sucked in a relieved breath that puffed out on a laugh so deep it almost hurt my lungs.
So, Worse Times Thirteen was going to be me bursting into tears in front of the only people who really mattered. The relief was just that much. I was that—happy. Something I’d forgotten I knew how to be. Thank goodness I’d gone out with them. It put the whole Jared thing in perspective for a night.
He was someone that hurt me. It still hurt…missing him, feeling less than I should be because he dumped me. But tonight…tonight I got to be a little freer because I had an amazing best friend and there were good guys out there—even if they were in love with someone else.
I looked around the table, sure this memory was A Moment. The absurd amazingness of a night out with your best friend and two really fun guys—of getting to relax and not think or obsess—just being able to be as close as I come to a normal teen. Yeah. I tucked it away for those days when I just couldn’t deal. Because honestly, I needed to remember that when things in life were good, they didn’t get much better than that.
Chapter 5
The generic Verizon ring vibrated my cell for an unknown number. It was probably someone I could get away with killing for calling before the alarm clock went off on a Saturday. Which would be noon.
“Hello?” Please note, hello might have sounded more like who the hell is this?
“Hey. Just got back from my run.” A deep, unexpected voice jolted me awake. “Wanted to see about us getting together.”
I looked at the number again. It suddenly seemed odd that a girl—any girl—in the RV didn’t have Chris Kent’s number programmed in her phone. Even if that girl was me.
“Today?” As in…today? I glanced at the clock again.
“Yeah. We’re already a couple weeks into the semester. We’ve got to get going.”
What had I been thinking? Oh, yeah. Some strange force had created a momentary sympathy for the uber-popular It Boy. And a trust that he might be able to add better than I could. Not to mention getting my butt back on the Dean’s List.
My phone beeped. Did these people think I was Matt Lauer or something? Who really gets up that early?
I glanced at the screen and groaned. Again. Amy.
All of a sudden, as if I’d had social amnesia or something yesterday, every reason I shouldn’t tutor—couldn’t tutor—Chris Kent came rushing back.
“You know, Chris,” I began, hoping he’d just pick up on the issues and let me out of our non-agreement. “I’m not sure this is such a great idea.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? We agreed to this yesterday.”
“Well, a girl has the right to change her mind.” Or, at least that’s what my mom says every time she changes shopping plans. That woman hates to shop. It’s the one thing that makes me question my heritage. “And like I said, this is just a bad idea.”
“Rachel, you can’t back out on me.” That was definitely not the smooth tone he used to pick-up girls. “Who else am I going to find to tutor me at this point?”
Yeah, because demanding is so much more convincing than asking.
“I’m sure someone else can help you. I mean, I’ve never even tutored anyone before.”
Good point. Score one for me.
“You’re smart and you’re available.” His voice was clipped as if he said the words fast enough and strong enough, I’d have no choice. “That’s all the requirements I need in a tutor right now. Plus, what happened to your desperate need to get your Calc grade up?”
He was…words failed. The ego on that boy was immeasurable.
“Listen, just because you’ve handsied your way through most of the senior class already, doesn’t mean I have to tutor you. I couldn’t care less if we make states, so there’s no worries for me if you pass or not.”
“I told you, this isn’t—you know what? I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
Before I could ask what the hell that meant, he’d hung up.
The voicemail reminder on my phone beeped again.
I dialed through to my message box.
“Hey, it’s me. It’s supposed to be, like, 80 today. Luke and I are going to Ben’s to hang out at his pool. He said we should definitely invite you. I think he likes you.” I could hear the hopeful smile in her voice. “Grab your suit. We’ll pick you up at ten-thirty.”
I glanced at the clock. Unfortunately, all interested parties would be arriving at about the same time. Not the drama I needed in my life right now.
I hit #1 and got Amy’s voicemail. How could someone call you and thirty-seven seconds later not be available? Of course, Amy had said the same thing before when I’d call her and then call the current boyfriend. Which meant she was probably on the phone with Luke.
“It’s me. Leave a message.” Wow, even her voicemail sounded perkier. Luke really had upped the happiness level in her.
BEEP.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m going to have to meet you at Ben’s.” Yeah, as if that wasn’t going to be
awkward. “Are you sure he said he wanted me to come? Text me.”
Now I only had to deal with Mr. Doesn’t Take No For An Answer. Ever.
Twenty minutes. That gave me just enough time to shower and get dressed. Maybe I could head him off at the front door before he got inside and my innocent sisters were exposed to him. Little girls did not need to be subjected to that level of hotness and sarcasm. Or just hotness.
BEEP.
Actually, this one was more of a twirledtweetertwirled—my text message alert.
Of course Ben wants you there. Don’t forget your suit.
I hurried to my bathroom for as long a shower as I could get away with. Since they’d pinpointed my triggers, Mom had switched rooms with me so I had the master suite—amazing how much you looked at yourself to leave the house. That meant I didn’t have to see anyone until I was fully prepared.
Or my version of fully prepared.
In the shower I thought about how to handle Chris. Which had me thinking about Chris. Which had me thinking about the fact that Chris was a hot guy who seemed to go for perfect blondes and athletic girls named Amy he couldn’t have.
Which had me thinking about how not blonde and unperfect I was.
Not that it mattered in the dating sense. But the idea of knowing I constantly came up lacking stung. And made me a little nauseous. Chris was too much like Jared. He was charming—and hot and popular and a girl-user.
I could feel my skin getting hot just thinking about it…getting that tight, anxious feeling.
This was definitely a bad idea. I’m not sure I could take the stress. Stress led to too many opportunities for anxiety, and anxiety meant more locked-in-public-bathroom moments.
I looked down at my feet, way—way—down the end of my way—way—too long legs, and tried to pull myself together.
Almost lying to the best friend. Trying to tutor someone when I’d never tutored anyone before. Trusting the untrustable guy to get me through Calculus. Dealing with him comparing me to every hot girl who walked past. It all got thrown into the cauldron called my life and equaled a recipe for more than disaster. It equaled a recipe for meltdown.
Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) Page 4