by Destiny, A.
When I looked over, Logan was digging into the outside pocket of his backpack. He pulled out a pack of mints.
“Want one?” he asked, holding it out. “I don’t know about you, but I need a little sugar rush this time of day.”
“Thanks.” I took a mint, being careful not to let my fingers touch his. I didn’t need that embarrassing tingling to start up again.
He popped a mint, then tossed the pack back in his bag. I sucked on my mint, hoping the sharp spearmint might clear my mind. I couldn’t believe Simone was still trying to push me and Logan together after what had happened at lunch. Was she nuts?
Then again, why did I expect any different? I already knew Simone wasn’t exactly logical when it came to romance. Or anything else, for that matter.
However, I still retained the capacity for logical thought even if my best friend didn’t. And when I thought about it logically, I realized there might be a silver lining to Simone’s nuttiness. So what if she’d arranged things so I was stuck talking to Logan for a while? He was a nice guy, and even if that whole sparks thing was a nonstarter, there was no reason he and I couldn’t be friends. In fact, if he was going to end up going out with either Megan or Ling, it would be better if we had at least a cordial relationship, right? Plus, bonus: He was much easier to talk to than most guys. Chatting with him would be good practice for me so I didn’t end up completely tongue-tied if and when I did meet Mr. Right in college or whenever.
Before I could think of a way to launch a friendly conversation, Logan did it for me. “Ling tells me you and Simone have been friends for a long time,” he said.
“Our whole lives,” I said. “Our moms are friends, and they had us doing playdates together from the time we could sit up, if not before. Although based on their stories, it sounds like the playdates were mostly an excuse for them to get together and drink wine in the afternoon.”
Logan laughed. “Sounds sort of like my dad and his friends. Mom seems suspicious that most of their so-called work conferences take place in the vicinity of good pubs or famous golf courses.”
“You said your dad’s a paleontologist, right? That must be a really interesting job.”
“He loves it. Especially loves getting his hands dirty digging around for old bones or whatever.” Logan drummed his fingers on his desk. “I’m kind of glad he decided to write this book, though. Back when I was a little kid, before Mom decided to go back for her PhD, Dad used to have to travel a ton. It seemed like he was away on digs more than he was home. We had to move a lot just to stay in the same hemisphere as him.”
“Really?” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to move as much as you have. Like I told you, I’ve never lived anywhere but here.” I glanced around the room. I’d known most of the people there since kindergarten.
“I guess I’m just used to being a nomad.” He glanced around too. “Actually, it’s hard for me to imagine that this might be it for a while—that I might be at this school all the way through graduation.” He bit his lip. “It weirds me out a little bit, to be honest.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond for a moment. His blue eyes had taken on a faraway expression, and his lips were tilted in a little half frown. Suddenly this didn’t feel so much like a casual, friendly conversation anymore. . . .
“Um, graduation’s only a little over two years away,” I said. “That’s not very long.”
“I guess. Although Mom’s already talking about me going to the university here too—I’d get free tuition since she’s on the faculty.” He rolled his eyes. “Luckily, Dad already told me I can go anywhere I want.”
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
He lifted one shoulder. “Haven’t thought about it that much. Maybe I’ll go back abroad—it might be fun to study in Europe. Or maybe South America. I’ve never lived there, but we all went to Peru once when Dad had a conference in Trujillo.”
I shook my head, amazed by how casually he talked about stuff like that. “Wow. I never really thought about going to college in another country. I’m worried enough about how I’m going to handle living in another state!”
“You’ll do fine.” Logan smiled. “You’ll fit right in at MIT.”
“If I get in,” I said quickly. “And if I can figure out a way to pay for it. My family does okay, but they’re not going to be able to pay that kind of tuition by selling a few more of Great-Aunt Ellen’s chocolate-chip cookies.”
He shrugged. “You can get loans, right?”
“Maybe for part of it.” I stared across the room at Mr. Gillespie, who was kicking a half-deflated soccer ball around with a couple of the baseball guys. But I wasn’t really seeing them. No, I was looking at my future. My sad, pathetic future stuck working forever at Eats if I didn’t get the scholarships I needed. “But I can’t afford to run up too much debt in undergrad,” I told Logan. “Not with med school coming up right afterward.”
“Med school? You want to be a doctor?”
“Medical researcher,” I said. “I want to study genetics. Or maybe cellular biology or something along those lines. I haven’t quite decided yet, but I figure I can try a few different things in college and narrow it down by the time I get through med school.”
“Wow.” He looked impressed. “You’ve really put a lot of thought into this.”
“I know, everyone thinks I’m a freak.” I shot a look at Simone and Taylor, who were still hanging out near the front of the room. “Most of my friends haven’t even started thinking about college yet.”
“You’re not a freak for thinking ahead.” He leaned across the aisle, gazing at me intently. “It’s cool that you know what you want. Most people our age don’t.”
Okay, that definitely wasn’t the usual response I got when I started spouting off about college plans. Simone usually just sighed and rolled her eyes. The other girls mostly ignored me and changed the subject. And the one time I’d mentioned watching an Internet video of a college-level genetics class, Matt and Darius had looked at me as if I was some weirdo from the planet Intellecto, and Matt had nicknamed me Professor for a day or two until he forgot about it.
But here was Logan, looking at me as if this was a perfectly normal—even admirable—topic for a high school sophomore to discuss. That was different. He was different.
Uh-oh. All of a sudden that sparky, fluttery feeling was back again, stronger than ever.
“Anyway, enough about me.” I forced a laugh, ready to steer things back to more comfortable ground. “How’s your new house? Are you all moved in?”
“Pretty much.” He brightened. “And hey, that reminds me—there’s at least one good thing about being stuck in one place for a while.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve always wanted a dog, but we moved around way too much before.” He grinned like a little kid. “Now that we’re here, Mom and Dad said I can finally get one!”
“That’s cool. What kind of dog are you going to get?”
“I’m not sure yet. Do you have any pets?” he asked. “I could use some advice.”
“We just have a cat right now,” I said. “Our old dog died last year. He was a beagle.”
“That’s one of the breeds on my list,” Logan said. “Along with retrievers and a few others. But I’ll probably just end up going to the pound and picking out a lovable mutt.”
“Sounds good.” I could totally picture him with a dog. Then I thought of something. “But wait, what if you do end up going to college abroad? Will you be able to take the dog with you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. If not, it could stay here with my parents. I think Dad’s almost as excited about the dog thing as I am.”
“That’s cool.” I smiled, but I was feeling kind of confused. One minute Logan was talking about getting settled in and living here forever. The next it seemed like he already had one foot on the plane back to Europe or wherever.
Not that there was anything wrong with that. I had n
o intention of getting stuck in this town forever myself. But it reminded me that high school wouldn’t last forever, even if it felt that way sometimes. The two-plus years we had left were practically nothing, especially if you looked at time in geologic terms. After graduation we were all likely to go off in different directions. So even if Ling and Megan weren’t in the picture, what was the point in getting involved with a guy now?
And of course Ling and Megan were in the picture. They were both used to getting what they wanted, and they weren’t going to back off just because I had some kind of wishy-washy flutter in my gut over this particular guy.
So that was two pretty big strikes against even considering being more than friends with Logan. The logical part of my mind said not to bother.
So why did I keep feeling those sparks?
Chapter Nine
College Avenue Eats was almost deserted when I arrived after school. Two older ladies were chatting over coffee and pastries, and a harried-looking college student was typing away madly on her laptop, a half-eaten bowl of soup cooling beside her. My uncle was over by the counter spritzing glass cleaner on the display cases, while my mother was pulling several dozen snickerdoodles off a tray and putting them into a basket in the bakery case.
“Yum,” I said, hurrying over and grabbing a cookie before she could add it to the display. “Did Great-Aunt Ellen just make these?”
“Uh-huh. And don’t eat any more—you know she only works a half day on Mondays, and we’re likely to run out before dinnertime as it is.” Mom slapped my hand away before I could take more. “How was school? Did your biology test go okay?”
“Test was good. School was fine.” I stuffed the cookie in my mouth. It was still warm—heaven. Great-Aunt Ellen was the one who’d first convinced my great-grandparents to add a bakery to their successful deli business way back in the early days. It had been a hit from the start, probably because her cookies, cakes, and donuts were so delicious that people came from miles around to get them.
I wiped my hand on my jeans, then went behind the counter and grabbed one of the coffee pots from the twin burners. The two older ladies were regular customers, and I knew they always drank decaf.
“Refill?” I asked when I reached their table.
“Oh, thank you, dear.” The older of the pair smiled at me and slid her cup closer.
“Yes, thanks.” Her friend pushed her glasses up her nose and peered toward the bakery case. “Did I just see your mother bringing out some fresh cookies?”
“Snickerdoodles.” I smiled. “How many do you want?”
Once I’d finished topping off their coffee and brought them each a cookie, I stepped behind the counter and put the coffee pot back. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.
Uncle Rick glanced up from his cleaning. “Suz is in back working on a delivery order,” he said. “You could help her finish up.”
“Okay.” I pushed through the swinging doors.
Susannah glanced up from layering ham and provolone onto a row of sub rolls. “Hi, Bailey.”
“Hi. How’d your test go?”
She groaned. “Don’t ask. How was yours?”
“The usual.” I shrugged. “Simone thinks she actually passed, though.”
“That’s good.” She shoved a tub of mayonnaise toward me. “Here. I need two roast beef with lettuce, onion, and mayo. No tomato.”
“Got it.”
We worked together in comfortable silence. When the sandwiches were finished, Susannah started stuffing them into bags. “Can you tell your dad these are ready?” she said. “He’s in the office.”
I nodded and stepped into the tiny hallway beyond the kitchen. Passing the storerooms and restroom, I stopped in front of the closetlike office. Through the half-open door I could see my dad at the desk, bent over some paperwork. I rapped lightly on the door frame.
“Order’s up,” I said.
Dad looked up, his mustache twitching into a smile. “Oh, hi, Bailey. I didn’t know you were here. What time is it?” He checked his watch.
“Time to deliver some sandwiches. Do you want me to take them? Or ask Uncle Rick?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Dad stood and stretched. “I can swing by and pick your sister up from her piano lesson on the way back.”
I followed him out to the front. Things were still slow, so Mom suggested I get started on my homework. I took her advice, slipping into the corner booth and pulling out my books.
I was halfway through that night’s geometry proofs when the bell over the door jingled loudly. Once I looked up, I saw that it was Megan. She’d changed out of her school clothes into a pretty floral wrap dress with a deep V-neck. It definitely hugged her curves in all the right places, though the cap sleeves and lightweight, flowy fabric looked more suited for July than the fickle weather of early spring.
“Bailey! I was hoping you’d be here!” She hurried over and slid onto the bench across from me. Her eyes were dancing with excitement and her cheeks were flushed pink. The latter was probably due to vasodilation from spending time outdoors in that dress on a relatively chilly day. But somehow, since she was Megan, it only made her look more beautiful than ever.
I lowered my pencil. “I’m always here,” I joked, trying not to stare at her cleavage. “You know that.”
“Yeah.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a jeweled compact, checking her face and hair in the tiny mirror. “So how about that scene at lunch today? Is Ling a nut, or what?”
“Hmm.” I wasn’t about to start taking sides between the two of them. That would only make an already ridiculous situation downright insane.
“I mean, I can’t believe she’s trying to steal Logan right out from under me!” Megan snapped her compact shut and tucked it back into her purse. “He’s so not her type.”
“I guess.” She actually had a point there. Ling had an edge to her, and she usually preferred a guy who could stand up to her—even challenge her. Obviously I didn’t know Logan that well yet, but he seemed too easygoing to fill that role.
Then again, Megan herself had pointed out that Logan wasn’t really her usual type either. Okay, yes, he was good-looking and fit. But not exactly the dumb-jock kind of guy she usually preferred.
Megan ran her fingers through her glossy red hair, which as usual looked ready for that shampoo ad. “I guess I can’t blame her, though,” she said. “I mean, Logan is pretty amazing, right? It’s about time we got some cool new guys around here.”
I nodded, gripping my pencil tightly. Why was she telling me this? All my friends knew I wasn’t exactly the go-to girl for romantic advice. Why wasn’t Megan spilling her guts to Taylor or Zoe or Simone? Why me?
“Anyway, I’m sure Ling will come to her senses soon. At least I hope so.” Megan leaned forward. “In the meantime, I had a wonderful idea.”
“Really?” I asked weakly. Couldn’t she see that I didn’t want to have this conversation?
No, probably not, I realized immediately. Megan was a great friend in most ways. She was loyal, fun-loving, and quick to laugh. But she could be single-minded when she was involved in something, and occasionally maybe a little slow to notice what other people might be feeling.
“I want to do something special for Logan,” she said eagerly. “You know, like, to welcome him to town? So I want to commission a special cupcake for him.”
“A cupcake?” That wasn’t what I was expecting.
“Right. And you’re the expert at this stuff, Bailey. How many words can I fit on one cupcake? Can I make it say ‘Welcome Logan, from Megan?’ Or maybe something longer?”
“I don’t really do much with the bakery stuff,” I told her. “And my great-aunt already left for the day. Maybe it could wait until tomorrow?”
“No!” Her eyes widened. “I want to deliver it to his house today. Can’t you make me one?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to give anything I’ve baked to anyone you like,” I said. She looked so distraught that I relente
d. “But maybe Susannah could write something on an already-made cupcake. . . .”
“Perfect!” Megan clapped her hands. “Come on, help me explain it to her.”
Susannah was in the back prepping for the dinner rush. She nodded when she heard what we wanted. “We’re sold out of chocolate already. White cupcake okay?” she asked.
“Fine, whatever.” Megan didn’t seem too interested in the details. “How long will it take you to do the writing?”
“I need to finish this first.” Susannah nodded at the half-chopped head of iceberg in front of her. “So maybe half an hour?”
“Great. I’ll be back then to pick it up.” Megan grabbed me in a quick hug, enveloping me in her signature jasmine cologne. “Thanks, guys!”
After she rushed out, I slumped against the counter and stared into space. For a while there during study hall, I’d almost started to wonder if maybe Simone was right. If it really was worth taking a chance on this sparks thing.
But this? This had brought me back to earth.
“Bailey?” Susannah said. “What’s the matter? You look down.”
I blinked, remembering where I was. “What? No, I’m fine.”
“Bailey. It’s me.” My cousin lowered her knife again and watched me. “This new guy your friend was talking about—her cupcake boy. It’s not the cute boy who came in yesterday, is it? The one Simone said you were hitting it off with?”
“Simone told you that?” I gritted my teeth. “That girl has such a big mouth!”
“You’re just figuring this out now?” Susannah smiled. “But seriously, what’s the deal?”
My first instinct was to brush her off, find an excuse to change the subject or go back out front. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty. Susannah was both a natural romantic and a realist. She’d gone out with all kinds of guys throughout high school, from bad boys to jocks to nerds and everything in between. But the only one who’d stuck for more than a couple of months was her current boyfriend, Chuck, a fellow business student who was already expressing an interest in joining the family business someday. Practical, right? She’d played the field but settled on a guy who fit in perfectly with her life plan. Maybe hers was exactly the kind of advice I needed right now.