He looks to the side, not answering.
"It did." I toss my hands up. "See? I told you! This is all my fault. You're getting picked on because of me. And this is just the beginning. It'll only get worse from here."
"It won't. It'll end next week."
"No it won't. Why would it end next week?"
"Just trust me. I'll be fine." He gets up. "See you tonight."
And once again, he leaves before I'm able to come up with an excuse he'll believe for why I can't go to the party. He refuses to take no for an answer. He still wants to date me even though his locker got trashed. Twice!
Wes isn't on the bus going home so when I get to my house I text him with my final attempt at an excuse. I'm really sick. Probably food poisoning. I can't make it tonight but have fun!
I don't get a text back so I'm guessing he accepted my excuse.
Around seven, I'm in my room watching TV when my mom knocks on the door. I assume she's telling me it's time for dinner so I say, "I'll be there in a minute."
She opens the door, a big smile on her face. "You have a visitor." She steps back and I see Wes standing there, looking hotter than he's ever looked. He has on dark jeans and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off a silver watch with a thick black band. He's not wearing glasses and his hair has been cut. It's shorter and styled into place, not it's usual rolled-out-of-bed messy look. I liked that look but I like this one too. The shorter hair makes his blue eyes stand out more.
"Hey, Luna," he says.
"Hey." I turn off the TV. "Um, Mom?"
"Oh. Yes, I was just going." She winks at me before leaving. She doesn't even care I have a boy in my room. It's been so long since I've dated that having a guy show up at the house to see me makes her day. She's desperate for me to have a social life.
"Feeling better?" Wes asks as he comes in my room. He's holding a paper sack.
"Not really." I get up and shut the door. It's clear I'm not sick but I'm sticking with the story. Going back to my bed, I say, "What's in the sack?"
"Carbs."
"What?"
"When your stomach's sick, sometimes you feel better if you eat carbs. They're easy to digest." He pulls a small pink box from the sack. "I got you a cupcake." He hands me the box. "I also got crackers and some bananas." He sets the sack beside me on the bed. "Oh, and there's one of those electrolyte drinks in there."
"Thanks." I open the small pink box and see a vanilla cupcake with pink frosting. It's from this fancy cupcake shop on the other side of town. "This was really nice of you but you didn't have to do it."
"I wanted to make you feel better."
"Okay, well, thanks for stopping by. Have fun at the party."
"I'm not going. I came here to bring you this stuff and hang out with you. I thought we could watch TV. That's what you do when you're sick, right?"
He looks ready to go out. Fresh haircut. Nice clothes. Cologne. And yet he wants to hang out here with me?
Sitting at the other end of the bed, he picks up the remote. "So what do you want to watch?"
I sigh. "Wes, you know I'm not sick."
"Yeah, I see that now. I thought you might be faking it but I wasn't sure. You seemed fine at lunch but food poisoning comes on fast."
"Sorry I lied. I just really didn't want to go tonight."
"I hope it's not because of me. Because after this week I felt like we—"
"We did. I mean, we do." I glance down. "Like each other."
"But you don't want to go out with me?"
"It's not that. Parties just aren't my thing."
"We wouldn't have to stay long. We could go there, check it out, then go somewhere else, like maybe a movie."
Movies are another thing I can't do. It's dark so I need help getting to my seat, and once I'm seated and the movie starts, it takes my eyes so long to adjust that I miss most of the movie.
"I um...I don't really go to movies."
"Like ever?"
"No. I don't like the sticky floors and people talking during the movie."
"Okay, well, I'm sure we could find something else to do."
"I'd rather just stay here. But seriously, Wes, you don't have to sit here with me. Just go to the party. Maybe we could do something tomorrow night."
"I'm not going to the party without you. We're a couple. We're supposed to be seen together." He says it with a smile, then waits for my reaction.
I smile back. "We're not a couple. We haven't even been on a date."
"We're on a date right now."
"This isn't a date. You're not even supposed to be here."
He moves closer to me and takes my hand. "But I wanted to be. I wanted to see you. I've been looking forward to tonight for days and then you cancelled on me. You say you like me, Luna, so I don't know why you won't hang out with me. I'm trying to get to know you, but you're making it really difficult."
"Me?" I say in a kidding tone. "You're the one who's been gone all week. Always missing class. Not taking the bus."
He looks at me like he knows I'm only joking around because I'm uncomfortable talking about this. He says he wants to get to know me, but whether he realizes it or not, he already does. In the short time we've spent together, he always seems to know what I'm thinking and why I do things, which is annoying, but is also what draws me to him. He seems to understand me like no one else. Maybe because he used to be like me.
"What's your story, Wes?"
He cocks his head. "What do you mean?"
"You're always talking about not letting bullies control your life or not listening when people are being mean. It's almost like you've been through it and come out on the other side."
He shakes his head. "Not me. A friend of mine. And he didn't—well, it didn't turn out well."
"Is this a friend from California?"
"Yeah."
"Do you still talk to him?"
"He died. Hung himself."
I gasp. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."
"It was a while ago. Been about five years now. He was older than me. He'd been bullied since kindergarten and couldn't take it anymore. We weren't best friends but he lived on my street so we'd hang out, play video games."
"Did you know all this was going on? The bullying?"
"I didn't at first. He went to a different school so I didn't see what was going on. And he didn't tell me until right before..." Wes shakes his head. "It's just really stupid."
"What?"
"It's stupid he'd give up his life because some asshole kids couldn't just shut up and leave him alone."
"Did you used to be bullied?"
"I did, but it wasn't that bad. And it never bothered me that much. I just ignored it and eventually it stopped. It's like I told you, those people only get power if you give it to them. And I never did. Then one day things changed and they suddenly wanted to be my friend, as if I'd forgotten how they were before."
I wonder what changed, why they'd suddenly want to be friends.
"Anyway," he says, "I say all that stuff to you about ignoring what people at school say about you because I know none of it is true and I don't want you believing it." He looks into my eyes. "You're amazing, Luna. You're pretty and smart and funny and yes, you have an unusual name, but that's what makes it so great. I think it's a beautiful name and that it fits you and I think you should be proud of it. And you should be proud of the fact that you were the star of a national commercial instead of letting an asshole like Hunter make you feel ashamed of it. If anyone has a stupid name, it's him. Who names their kid after a company that makes window treatments?"
I laugh. "I know, right? I can't believe people don't make fun of him for that."
"They don't because he won't let them. That's what I keep telling you. You control how people treat you, so stop giving them the reaction they want and just ignore them. Your life will get a lot better and you won't be afraid to go to stuff like Colton's party."
"I'm not afraid. That's not why�
�" I stop and pull my hand from his, setting it in my lap.
"Then what it is? Why won't you go?"
"I just—never mind. You're right. I don't want to be made fun of. That's why I don't want to go."
"Why would they make fun of you? It'll be dark. No one will even see you."
I can't believe I'm even considering this, but I want to tell him the truth. I never thought I'd tell anyone other than Stella and maybe Sam, someday, if he marries Stella. But no one else. And yet now, I have this urge to tell Wes, a guy I've only known for a week.
Chapter Nine
"It's the dark," I say, my nerves on edge, my head screaming at me not to tell him.
"What about it?"
"I'm uh...I'm afraid of the dark," I blurt out.
I panicked. I couldn't do it. I was about to tell him the truth but then I couldn't.
"You're afraid of the dark?" he asks. "Really?"
"I know it sounds stupid and I've tried to get over it but I can't. I hate the dark. That's why I don't go out late at night. Why I don't go to movies. Or haunted houses. Or parties outside in the dark."
"But what if I was with you?" he asks. "If I promised to not leave your side, would you be okay?"
"I don't think so. It's a phobia I've had for a really long time. I can't just make it go away."
He pauses. "Do you want it to?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not that easy to make go away."
"What if I helped you?"
Crap. I should've known he'd try to help. I thought he'd accept my fake phobia but now he wants to fix it.
"Can we not talk about this? It's kind of embarrassing. You better not tell anyone this."
"I won't. And you don't have to be embarrassed. A lot of people have phobias. When I was a kid I had a fear of trains."
"Why trains?"
"I thought they'd run over me and kill me. I'd seen a train hit a car on TV and smash it into a million pieces and I worried the same thing would happen to me. My parents had to avoid driving by train tracks or I'd throw a fit. This was when I was four or five. I eventually got over it."
"How'd you get over it?"
"My dad took me on one of those train rides for kids. It was at Christmas so Santa was there. We got hot chocolate. It was fun. I loved it. It made trains not so scary. Then my parents took me to a train museum where kids can play with toy train sets, which I also loved, and soon, I wasn't afraid of trains anymore. It's that whole facing-your-fear thing. You could do this, Luna. You could get over your fear."
"I don't think so. I've been this way a long time."
"I've got an idea. How about we go to the party, but before we go, we stop and get flashlights, or maybe those lights that strap onto your head. Or maybe both. And I'll stay by your side the entire time and even hold your hand."
I laugh. "You'll even hold my hand? Like it'll pain you to do so?"
He smiles. "If you really get scared, I might even have to kiss you."
I feel my face blush and look away. "I probably won't be that scared."
"That's too bad," he says.
He wants to kiss me? Tonight? I want that too, so maybe I should just go to this stupid party. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. We wouldn't have to stay long. We could hang out with Sam and Stella for a half hour and then leave.
"What do you think?" Wes asks. "Are we going?"
"People will laugh at us if we show up with flashlights."
"I'll say this again...I don't care what people think, or if they laugh at us. But since I know you do, if that's what's stopping you from going, I'll tell people it's because of me. I'll say I'm afraid of snakes so I'm using the flashlight to make sure I don't step on one."
"You think there'll be snakes there?" I ask, horrified by the thought.
"Probably not, but we'll be surrounded by fields with tall grass so it's possible."
I shudder. "I hate snakes."
"There won't be snakes. The bonfire will scare them away. I was just using that as an excuse for why we had the flashlights." He stands up, holding his hand out to me. "Let's go."
"But I didn't say yes."
"Your mouth didn't but your eyes did."
"What?"
"Your eyes have this excited glimmer in them that tells me you can't wait to go to the party."
"They do not."
"They do." His mouth turns up and all I can think about is the kiss he might give me later. "Let's go."
"Okay, but I have to change clothes." I look down at my yoga pants and baggy t-shirt. "I can't go like this."
"Then change. I'll wait in the living room."
"I don't know what to wear."
"Jeans and a shirt." He walks to the door. "And high boots to keep the snakes from biting your feet." He grins as he leaves.
Damn, him. Now I'll be worried about snakes!
Searching through my closet, I have no idea what to wear. I find some jeans, but what kind of shirt should I wear?
I call Stella. "Hey. Fashion emergency."
"What? I thought you were home."
"I am, but Wes is making me go to the party."
"But you told him you're sick."
"I tried to, but then he showed up here and saw that I wasn't. Now he's making me go tonight and I don't know what to wear."
"Do you want me to come over? Sam and I are at dinner but we could get the check and run over quick."
"No, don't leave dinner. Just tell me over the phone. You know everything I have. What should I wear? I have jeans picked out. I just need a top."
"Wear the new jeans, not those old ones you always wear."
"But they're my favorite."
"They're also out of style and worn out."
I take them from my bed and toss them back in my closet, then grab the new ones. "What about the shirt?"
"Hmmm. I'm thinking maybe that sleeveless one your mom got you."
"With the ruffles?"
"Yeah, it's cute. The ruffled shoulder thing is in. And you have good arms. The sleeveless shirt will show them off."
"You've never said I have good arms. I don't even work out."
"Okay, fine, you have skinny arms but they're not bad. And guys like seeing a little skin so the sleeveless shirt will be good."
"What if I get cold?"
"Then Wes will warm you up." She giggles.
"It's only our first date," I remind her.
"A lot can happen on a first date."
"So what time will you guys be there?"
"Probably around eight. How about you and Wes?"
"We'll plan on the same. I should go. Thanks for the advice."
"Anytime. See you soon."
I put the top on, which I've never worn, but it's actually cute. It's black and hangs loose around my waist. The ruffles at the shoulders softly drape over the tops of my arms. The shirt looks great with the jeans, which are straight and have a tight fit.
My hair was in a ponytail so I let it down and brush it out, then quickly put on some makeup. I was a total mess when Wes got here. I can't believe he saw me like that. He wasn't just supposed to show up here. Why didn't he at least call first? And why did my mom let him in?
"I'm ready," I say, walking into the living room.
Wes is sitting on the couch. My parents are in the chairs across from him.
"You said your mother is a flight attendant?" my dad asks.
"No. She works for an airline but in the accounting department."
"Ready to go?" I say to Wes, standing by the couch.
"Yeah, I'm ready." He gets up.
"Wesley said you two are going to a party," my dad says as he and my mom walk us to the door.
"Yeah, at Colton's house. He always has a party when school starts."
"And his parents will be home?" my mom asks.
"Yes," I say, but I actually have no idea if they'll be there.
"Don't be out too late," my dad says.
This is so embarrassing. Having a guy meet your parents is the wor
st. My parents don't go out of their way to embarrass me like some parents do. They just embarrass me without realizing it. Without even trying. It must be a parent thing.
"We won't be late," I say, heading to the door.
"It was nice meeting you," Wes says.
"Nice meeting you too." My mom smiles at him. "And thanks for the gardening tips. I might have to try growing tomatoes again."
"If not, I've got plenty to share."
"Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad." I hurry out the door and close it.
"Your parents are nice," Wes says.
"Yeah." I walk to the driveway. "Where'd you park? Did you take your dad's car?"
"No, I took mine."
I stop. "You have a car?"
"Yeah." He continues down the sidewalk.
"Then why have you been taking the bus?" I ask, catching up to him.
"I let my dad borrow my car last week."
"Why?"
"It's right here." He stops next to a shiny black Audi that looks brand new.
"Holy crap! You have an Audi TT coupe?"
He laughs. "You know your cars."
"My dad sells them so cars are a common topic at dinner."
"You said he sells Lexus."
"Yeah, but he talks about all makes and models. He's obsessed with cars."
"Why didn't he get you one? Being a salesman, he could probably get a good deal."
"He, um, doesn't think I need one yet."
"You want to drive this one?" He holds out his keys.
I'd love to drive it. I'd love to drive any car. I've gone driving with my dad but only out in the middle of nowhere where there's no chance I'd hit anyone.
"That's okay. You can drive."
"You sure? This car is awesome to drive. It's smooth. Fast. You'll love it. I promise."
"I would, but I can't drive."
"You don't know how?"
"I know how but I don't have my license."
"Aren't you 16?"
"Yeah, but—can we just go?" I try to open the door. "It's locked."
He clicks the key fob and opens my door. I get in, hoping he won't keep asking about my lack of a driver's license. I never think about this stuff until someone brings it up, which they usually don't. I didn't even consider Wes would ask, but now he has and I don't know how to explain why I don't have a license.
The Geek and The Goddess Page 8