Lessons in Love (Flirt)

by Destiny, A.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Before leaving study hall, Logan and I arranged to meet up on campus an hour after the final bell. That would give him time to go get Patch, and me time to drop off my books at home.

  It seemed like a perfectly logical plan. But by the time I got off the bus in front of my house, I was freaking out. I wasn’t like Simone or the others. I just wasn’t cut out for this boy-girl stuff. I should have stuck to my plans to avoid high school romance.

  “What was I thinking?” I muttered as I pushed through the front door and stomped toward the stairs. “For a smart girl, I sure am an idiot sometimes.”

  “Bailey? Is that you?”

  It was my mother. She wandered out of the kitchen holding a coffee mug.

  I pasted a bland smile on my face. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “I thought you’d be at work.”

  “I’m waiting for your sister.” She took a sip of coffee. “She’s got gymnastics today. Besides, I told your dad I’d take the late shift tonight so he and Uncle Rick can go to the Spring Thing lacrosse game.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t really listening. “That’s cool. I mean, whatever.”

  Mom was watching me carefully. “You okay, Bailey? You seem a little agitated. Did you have trouble with that English quiz?”

  “No, quiz was fine. All my classes were fine.”

  “What, then?” She took my arm and steered me into the kitchen. “Is anything wrong? You can talk to me.”

  “I know, Mom. And seriously, nothing’s wrong.” I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes before I needed to leave. “Hey, Mom, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” she said immediately.

  I perched on the edge of one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. “When did you know that Dad was the guy for you?”

  She looked a little surprised. No wonder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d asked her a question like that. Probably because there wasn’t a last time.

  “Hmm, I don’t know if I could pinpoint the exact time.” She leaned against the counter across from me. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Is there a reason you’re asking this right now?”

  “Sort of.” I took a deep breath. “See, there’s this guy . . .”

  “A guy?” She perked up in a very Simone-like way.

  “Relax,” I said quickly. “I haven’t decided what to do about him yet. It’s just—I never thought I’d like a guy in high school, you know?”

  “But you like this guy?”

  “Maybe.” I considered. “I mean, yes. Probably.”

  “Wow!” Mom caught herself. “Er, I mean, go on.”

  I couldn’t blame her for the reaction. She’d probably been wondering when I was going to get with the program, start acting like a typical hormonal teenager. “It’s just, this wasn’t part of the plan, you know?” I said. “I wasn’t going to let myself get distracted by this kind of stuff.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a distraction.” She smiled. “At least not a bad one.”

  “Right, easy to say that now.” I clutched the edge of the countertop. “But what if things work out with him and I end up letting my grades slip? I could be kissing my MIT acceptance good-bye!” Noticing my mother’s mouth twisting in a strange way, I peered at her suspiciously. “Mom? This isn’t funny!”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She arranged her features into a more somber expression. “I just don’t know too many high school sophomores who are so concerned about getting into the college of their choice that they see dating as a distraction.”

  She was just noticing this now? “I know, I’m a freak,” I muttered.

  “No, you’re not, sweetie.” She reached across the counter and squeezed my hand. “You’re unique, but that’s okay. It’s part of what makes you lovable.”

  I squeezed back, then let go and started picking at my fingernails. “So what am I supposed to do?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Bailey.” Mom sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim of the mug. “What I can say is that while it’s good to have a plan, you have to stay flexible. You can’t count on things working out exactly like you think they will.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, just look at Simone’s mom. When we were your age, she was fully planning to marry her high school boyfriend as soon as possible—that would be Ray Baird from the auto shop.”

  “Simone’s mom went out with Mr. Baird?” That was a shock. Mr. Baird was nice enough, I supposed, but he was bald and paunchy and always smelled like gasoline. I didn’t even know he was the same age as my mom and Mrs. Amrou—he seemed a lot older.

  “That’s right.” Mom looked amused by my reaction. “The two of them were going to buy into College Avenue Eats once Celia and I got out of college, and all of us were going to work together. Along with your dad, of course.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t picture it. Simone’s mom becoming Mrs. Baird and spending her days covered in flour and powdered sugar? Mr. Baird making sandwiches and chatting with customers?

  “But then Celia went away to college, Ray met someone else, and the rest was history. Change of plans.” Mom stood and went to the coffee pot to top off her mug. “And then there’s me.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “You followed your plan, right? You married Dad, then went into the family business.”

  “Yes, that part worked out.” Mom’s smile turned kind of wistful around the edges. “But I always thought I’d have a whole passel of kids. In the end, though, I only ended up being able to have you two girls.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t known that. It gave me a weird feeling to hear it, actually. What else didn’t I know about my own mother?

  “Uh-huh.” Mom stared into her mug. “Then there’s Susannah. She wanted to be a nurse from the time she was a little girl.”

  I remembered that. “She used to pretend my stuffed animals were her patients. And she cleaned and bandaged my scratches and scrapes that time I fell out of the tree house.”

  “And yet here she is, taking business classes. Seems like a change of plans, doesn’t it?”

  I frowned. “Sure, but I thought she decided she’d rather study business so she could take over Eats someday.”

  Mom shrugged. “That’s what she says now. But I suspect she felt obligated to make that decision—she’s Rick and Vera’s only child, after all. And she’s always been the type of person who hates disappointing anyone.”

  “Wow.” I thought about all the times Susannah complained about her business classes. Was she secretly dreaming of taking pharmacology and anatomy instead of finance and accounting?

  “Anyway, I’m glad you’re not like that, Bailey.” Mom smiled at me. “I admire the way you’re so determined to follow your dreams.”

  “Oh.” I’d never really thought about it that way. Here I’d figured I was just sort of stubborn. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I mean it, sweetie.” She was giving me one of those doting Mom smiles, the kind I usually rolled my eyes at but secretly sort of loved. “I hope you’ll be that way about everything in life. I hope you’ll never back down or give up on something you really want.”

  I just nodded, my mind wandering back to Logan. Was that what Mom was talking about? Did she want me to go for it?

  That reminded me to check the time again. “Oops, I’d better go.” I slid off the stool and headed toward the door. Then I turned back and hurried around the counter to give her a quick hug. “Thanks, Mom. I mean it.”

  It was the first day of the Spring Thing, and the entire campus was buzzing with energy. The school colors were everywhere—on the Spring Thing banners that flapped in the breeze on every lamppost and building and on the T-shirts and hats of students wandering around. I strolled through campus, enjoying the festive mood and the warm, breezy afternoon. There was an informal soccer game going on in front of University Hall, and I could hear the faint sounds of a band playing somewhere in the distance.

  Logan and
I had arranged to meet by the benches on the east end of Campus Lawn, a big parklike area between the main part of campus and the outer dorms. It was always a popular spot for jogging, sunbathing, walking dogs, or just hanging out. Today it actually looked a little less crowded than usual, probably because so many people were over enjoying the activities on Main Campus.

  Hearing a bark, I turned and saw Logan jogging toward me with his new dog pulling him along. “Sorry I’m late!” Logan called breathlessly. “Believe it or not, Dad had Patch out for a walk when I got home, and I had to wait for them to get back.”

  “It’s okay, I just got here.” I bent to pet Patch, who jumped up and licked my face, his tail wagging so fast it was a blur. “I hope he’s not all worn out from his walk.”

  “No way.” Logan laughed. “Trust me, nothing wears this guy out!”

  I noticed he had his backpack on, and something was sticking out the top. “What’s that?”

  “Oh! Check it out. Here, can you hold him for a sec?” Logan handed me Patch’s leash, then took off his backpack. “It’s a kite—see? Since it’s kind of windy today, I thought we could try it. If you want?”

  “Sure!” I had to smile at his eagerness. “I can’t remember the last time I flew a kite.”

  “Really? I love kites.” As he talked, Logan was expertly unfurling the kite. It was a good-size one, diamond-shaped with multicolored fabric stretched across a wooden frame. “I got really into it when I lived in California. One of my mom’s colleagues there belonged to the local kite club and he used to let me tag along to their events.”

  “Sounds fun.” I’d never met a guy who was interested in kites before. Then again, I’d never met anyone like Logan before. “So what do we do?”

  I took a step closer. Patch had been staring at a squirrel rustling around in a tree nearby, but now he focused on the kite. With a bark, he pounced on its fluttering tail.

  “Patch, no!” Logan yanked the tail loose. “Bad dog!”

  Patch tilted his head and stared at him, tail wagging slowly. Then he barked and leaped to the end of his leash, almost yanking it out of my hand as another squirrel scurried by.

  Logan sighed and grinned at me. “This could be more challenging than I thought.”

  I giggled, taking a tighter grip on the leash. “I love a challenge!”

  Soon Logan had the kite ready to go. I held Patch a safe distance away, watching as Logan dashed across the grass, letting the string feed out behind him. Things started pretty well—the kite rose steadily into the sky, its tail fluttering—but then a stray breeze sent it off course.

  “Oh, no!” Logan yelled, running even faster as the kite wobbled and dipped.

  It was no use. The kite plummeted to the earth, top first, and embedded itself in the soft soil of the green. Several college students lounging nearby whooped and applauded, and Logan took a sheepish bow.

  I caught up to him just as he’d finished rerolling the string onto the reel. Patch was frisking at my feet, nipping at the grass. “Hey, it looked pretty good there for a minute,” I said with a smile.

  “Thanks. Want to give it a try? I can take Patch.”

  “Sure.”

  My turn didn’t go any better than his, at least at first. For one thing, Logan kept coming closer to give me advice on how to hold the kite and which direction the wind was blowing and stuff like that. It was pretty helpful, except that Patch kept trying to jump up and attack the kite.

  After the third time the playful dog caught the kite’s tail in his mouth, Logan wrestled him to the ground and laughed helplessly. “I guess maybe dogs and kites don’t mix as well as I’d hoped,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. This is fun!” I meant it too. I was out of breath and I had the sneaking feeling those college students were laughing at us, but I didn’t care.

  “You sure?” He actually looked worried.

  I smiled and nodded. “Positive. Now stand back—I’m going to get it up there next time no matter what!”

  Okay, so it didn’t happen the very next time. But on the try after that, I actually managed to get the kite to catch the breeze. I was so surprised when I saw it rising up behind me that I slowed down.

  “Run! Run!” Logan shouted, sprinting toward me with Patch bounding along beside him. “You’ve got it—keep going!”

  I picked up the pace again, running across the wide green expanse of Campus Lawn as fast as I could. When I glanced back again, the kite looked a little wobbly. But it was still rising.

  Logan and Patch caught up to me. The dog barked and leaped, and Logan shot me a thumbs-up with his free hand. “You’ve almost got it!” he called.

  I nodded and pumped my legs harder. A moment later I felt a funny sort of tug on the reel I was holding, then a steady pull on the line.

  “You got it!” Logan cried. “You can stop now—check it out!”

  I stopped and turned around, looking for the kite. Up, up, up . . . My jaw dropped as I saw how high it was.

  “I did it!” I could hardly believe it. “Look at that!”

  The kite soared, seeming almost as high as the wispy clouds floating across the bright blue spring sky. I held tightly to the reel, afraid that if I let go the kite would fly off to the moon. Even though I knew that was impossible—for one thing, it would never be able to achieve escape velocity. . . .

  “Patch, no!” I exclaimed as the dog jumped up on me, trying to reach the little bit of line hanging down from the reel.

  “Easy, boy.” Logan pulled him away. “Good job, Bailey. So what do you think?”

  I glanced at him and grinned. “I think I’m a kite-flying genius, that’s what I think.”

  He laughed. “Why am I not surprised you’re good at this? It’s lucky I’m not an insecure kind of guy or I’d be totally intimidated by your awesomeness.”

  I blushed, even though I was pretty sure he was just kidding around. Suddenly I felt a drop in the tension on the line. I glanced up. The kite was lower than it had been a few seconds ago.

  “Hey, what’s happening?” I tugged at the line.

  He looked up too. “Reel it in a little and start moving—see if you can settle it again.”

  No dice. Within seconds the kite was falling fast.

  “Run!” Logan urged. “Hurry—it’s coming down!”

  I took off with Logan and Patch beside me. We were running out of space—if I kept going that way, I’d run smack into the side of the university’s student center. “What now?” I yelled.

  “Turn around and run even faster! And reel in! You’ve got to head it off!”

  I shot him a look of disbelief. Run faster? He had to be kidding.

  But I did it—or tried to, anyway. Veering around, I sprinted back across the green, faster and faster . . .

  THUMP!

  “Stop!” Logan yelled. “It’s down.”

  I skidded to a halt and collapsed on the grass, completely out of breath. “Thank goodness,” I gasped. “I couldn’t take much more of that!”

  Logan jogged over. Patch pricked his ears when he saw me lying down, then took a flying leap onto my stomach.

  “Oof!” I grunted. “Patch, no!”

  The dog ignored me, clambering across my chest and eagerly licking my chin. I pushed him away and sat up.

  Logan collapsed beside me, grinning. “Sorry about that—he’s a little too friendly for his own good.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I gave Patch a pat as Logan pulled him off me. Then I glanced at the kite, which was once again sticking out of the ground at an awkward angle. “Should I go get it while you roll up the string?”

  “In a minute. I need to catch my breath first. You run pretty fast for a girl.”

  “Hey!” I shoved him, pretending to be insulted. “Girls can run. Besides, Vinnie has been whipping us into shape all season to run the bases faster.”

  “Well, it worked.” He leaned closer, resting his shoulder against mine. “You ran me into the ground. And Patch,
too.”

  All too aware of the sudden weight and warmth of Logan’s shoulder, I glanced at the dog. Patch finally seemed to be tired. He’d just collapsed on the grass at Logan’s feet, resting his head on his paws.

  “Guess we finally wore him out,” I said. “That’s what we’re here for, right?”

  He didn’t answer at first. Just leaned against me, still breathing hard.

  I wanted to turn my head to look at him, but I didn’t quite dare. He was so close. I could feel his warmth through our shirts, feel the rhythm of his breathing.

  Then I felt him shift as he turned to face me. His shoulder pulled away from mine, but now our legs were touching. And Logan’s face was only about six inches from mine.

  “This is fun,” he said softly. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too.” Swallowing hard, I turned to face him. His eyes were so blue, especially this close.

  He licked his lips, looking nervous. I held my breath as he leaned forward . . .

  A flurry of barking exploded at our feet. “Patch!” Logan blurted out as the leash slipped from his hand. “No!”

  The dog ignored him, running off at top speed after a squirrel. Logan scrambled to his feet.

  “We’ve got to catch him,” he cried. “He’s not supposed to be off leash here!”

  I followed as he raced after the dog. “Patch, stop! Come! Sit!” I yelled.

  Patch ignored me, totally focused on his quarry. The squirrel headed straight up the nearest tree, leaving the dog barking wildly at the bottom.

  “Need some help?” called out a cute college guy with floppy hair.

  “I think I’ve got it,” Logan called back breathlessly, making a dive for the end of Patch’s leash.

  But the dog was too quick for him as he made a quick dash across the grass.

  “Patch!” I hollered after him.

  Realizing we were facing a losing battle, the floppy-haired guy tried to grab him, but Patch darted to the side and barked, his tail wagging even harder. He seemed to think we were all playing an awesome game of tag.

  By then more students were running over to help. For the next few minutes Patch led us all on a merry chase, obviously delighted to be loose and the center of attention. Finally a college girl used a granola bar to lure him close enough to grab the leash, and the great escape was over.