Incriminating Dating

by Rebekah L. Purdy

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ayla

  “Luke Pressler?” Dre Kramer said. He sat down next to me as I finished editing his advice column for this week’s paper.

  “Yep.”

  “Hmm…didn’t think he was your type.”

  My head whipped up, and I stared him down. His curly brown hair was cut close to his scalp, his mocha-colored skin glistening with sweat. “What do you mean by that? That you don’t think I’m good enough for him?”

  His eyes widened. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. He’s definitely not good enough for you. It’s just, he and his friends can be jerks. You saw what they did to Riley Austin last year, when they put cow manure all over his car just because he’s into rodeos and stuff. Not to mention all the stuff they say to people in the halls. He didn’t seem like your type. You’re nice. He’s not.”

  I sighed. Of course I knew he was right. Luke hung out with Jack, who was definitely an asshole. He picked on everyone. But that didn’t mean Luke should be guilty by association, did it? Although I couldn’t deny I’d seen a side to him in the video that was anything but nice. “I think that’s more his friends than him. I mean, have you ever really heard something nasty come out of his mouth? And do you think I’d date someone who treated people like that?”

  Except that was exactly what I was doing. Maybe this fake coupledom would help. Maybe I could get Luke to change his image. Sure, he was the all-American poster boy, but he wasn’t always kind.

  Dre rolled his eyes. “Yes. Last year I heard him tell Mark Bell that he should quit the basketball team because he had the skills of a two-year-old girl. He then told him he sucked balls.”

  Great. So my “boyfriend” was a jerk-off. But I needed him. And so far he hadn’t been so bad. I just didn’t want everyone else to think I was a snob, too. “He’s changed. I promise. And he won’t be talking like that to anyone anymore. Trust me, a lot of it is an act—” I slid out of the chair so Dre could take a seat and look over my suggested edits.

  “I hope you’re right. Because you’re super sweet, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Dre moved over to sit in front of the computer.

  What had gotten into him? He normally didn’t say stuff like that. Well, in all fairness he normally didn’t have a reason to. Dre and Chloe were my two closest friends. Chloe had known me since we were babies, and Dre moved here in fifth grade. We instantly connected over video games, monster flicks, the school paper, and our love of drama.

  A moment later, Chloe barged into the computer lab. “So, I finished your first poster.” She unrolled it from a tube. It was blue poster board with a picture of me in my TARDIS dress. Above my head it said, “It’s time for a change, let’s be real. Vote for Ayla.”

  “It turned out great.” I hugged her. “And you made me look way prettier than I am. Did you Photoshop the zit off my forehead?”

  “No. I didn’t clean it up at all. This is just you, Ay.”

  “Oh.” My curls looked bouncier, and I had a big smile on my face. Thank God my parents had gotten me braces in sixth grade. I was curvy, but that was okay. I was fine with my body. Some girls wouldn’t be. I usually got a couple of sideways glances when I wore anything tighter. But as long as I was comfortable with me, I didn’t care. Okay, so that was a lie, I did care, but I was trying not to so much—that was my goal this year, to worry less about what other people thought.

  “I’ll make more tonight and tomorrow. If you can get here early enough, we can hang them up.” Chloe rerolled it then grabbed her stuff from one of the chairs where she’d set it.

  “I’ve got to talk to Mr. Leaver real quick.” I nodded to the front desk, where he sat. “Wait for me?”

  “Sure.”

  When I stood in front of his desk, I found Mr. Leaver reading through the article about Luke that I’d written. He glanced up and smiled. “Just finished going over this. Sounds great as always. I think everyone will like to hear about his offer from the University of Michigan.”

  Sure they would. Well, I guess some people cared. “So, I had an idea for next week’s paper,” I said.

  He stood, grabbing his black binder, where he kept all the newspaper notes. “All right, what were you thinking?”

  “I’d really like to do a piece on sex trafficking. I think it’s becoming a bigger problem in the U.S., especially during some of the bigger sporting events…”

  Mr. Leaver rubbed his neck, which was a sure sign he’d say no. “Actually, Mr. Fairchild wondered if we’d write something about the recent park vandalism.”

  My mouth went dry. God, could I ever write an enlightening story on that. But we had a deal, and if nothing else I was woman of my word. “But that’s old news.”

  Mr. Leaver chuckled. “It just happened this week, and I thought it might be nice to maybe talk about some of the history behind the statues and what they meant to the town.”

  Most of them were actually of the rich founding families, which no one my age probably cared about. “But wouldn’t something about sex trafficking be more meaningful?”

  “Yes. However, you know what we’re up against with Mr. Fairchild. Let’s appease him for a few editions, then we can try another one of your ideas after some of the dust has settled from last week’s incident, okay?”

  Disheartened, I nodded. “Fine. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  I left the computer lab and joined Chloe.

  “So? What did Mr. Leaver say?”

  “That he’d like me to write something about the statue vandalism.” My jaw tightened. “It’s like he doesn’t even care about real issues.”

  “Seriously? That’s BS. Although you’d definitely have a great perspective on it…”

  “No crap, but I need Luke to help me with the election.”

  “I know. No worries—whatever you do will be awesome. You could write about macaroni and it’d sound fabulous.” She followed me out to the parking lot, which was mostly empty now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with Luke tonight.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  I climbed into my car, turned on the headlights, and flipped on the radio. Before pulling away, I slipped my phone out and texted my mom.

  Hey, gonna swing by Crusty’s for a few minutes.

  Mom: You said you weren’t going to eat there again this week.

  Not going to eat. Just stopping in to see a friend.

  Mom: What friend?

  Damn. Did I really want to bring my parents into my pretend relationship stuff? But I realized if I lied, she’d find out anyway. It was like she had some souped up spidey senses or something. Before I changed my mind, I quickly texted back.

  Luke Pressler. We’re kind of seeing each other. Gotta go.

  I turned my phone off then drove to Crusty’s. I knew Mom wouldn’t text me while I was driving, but as soon as I got home she’d want details. I hoped my parents didn’t want to meet him, because that might become all kinds of awkward. More awkward than what we already had going on.

  When I got to Crusty’s, I grabbed my wallet. I promised Mom I wouldn’t eat here, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t order a pop. At least then I wouldn’t chance getting kicked out for not ordering something.

  I walked inside to find Luke cleaning tables. His biceps flexed with the effort. Blond tufts of hair stuck out from beneath his hat. His skin still had a sheen of tan leftover from the summer. Phew. The boy definitely wasn’t ugly. As if sensing my scrutiny, he turned his head. When he saw me, he waved, a big grin spreading over his face. Was he actually happy to see me?

  “Hey, you made it. I thought you might be a little later.”

  “No, I decided to come here before going home. Are you on break?”

  “I can be in a minute. Let me find my boss and let him know I’m stepping out.” Luke hurried behind the counter.

  While I waited for him, I ordered a diet cola. A moment later, he came back out holding a brown lunch sack.

&
nbsp; “Did you want to talk in here, or out in your car?” Luke asked.

  “Probably my car,” I said, glancing around. Last thing we needed was for someone to overhear us.

  The bell above the door jingled as we headed out. “I have a half hour. That should give us time to figure out a few more things.”

  We plopped into my car. Luke unwrapped a PB&J sandwich and took a huge bite.

  “So I thought today went pretty well. But we definitely need to make sure we’re on the same page for everything,” I said.

  “I agree. My friends were already kind of suspicious.”

  I snorted. “Why, because I’m not some tiny blonde with big boobs and zero personality?”

  He frowned. “No. That’s not why—well, not the whole reason. I mean, mainly, this kind of just came out of nowhere, so we need to make sure our stories match up. We’ve already agreed that we met here at Crusty’s.”

  “Right. And you fell madly in love with me over a slice of pepperoni pizza.”

  “Or you came in knowing I worked here because you’ve had a huge crush on me since middle school.”

  “Now you’re just delusional. The only man I’ve had a crush on since middle school is Link from Zelda.”

  He coughed, nearly choking on his sandwich. “You’ve had a crush on a video game character?”

  “Yes. At least he’s a hero and not a vandal.”

  He frowned, and I suddenly felt bad about saying it.

  He cleared his throat and said, “But he’s not real.”

  “And the guys at our school are? Name one person who actually acts like themselves.” I crossed my arms, resting them on my chest. “Or if you want a real person, I kind of had a thing for Michael Crawford.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I waved my hands in the air. “He’s only one of the most iconic men in musical theater history. He was in Phantom of the Opera and Hello, Dolly! Okay, he’s like old enough to be my grandpa now, but back in the day, holy shit…”

  “Maybe you’ll have to educate me on all things drama club,” he said, grinning.

  “I will. By the time you and I are no longer an item, you’re going to be a whiz at musicals and Broadway shows.” I sipped my pop, then set it in the cup holder. “What about you? Who was your first crush?”

  He glanced out the window, refusing to meet my eye. “I’m not saying.”

  “Come on, you totally made fun of me for liking Link.” I tickled his side, and he caught my hand, nearly dropping what was left of his sandwich.

  “Hey, no fair. You’re resorting to physical warfare.” His voice sounded huskier than it had before.

  I laughed, trying to ignore the bolts of electricity sizzling beneath my skin. “So you’re ticklish then?”

  “Very.”

  “Well, then, you better tell me who your first crush was, or I will have to torture you.” I wiggled my fingers at him.

  “Fine. If you must know, it was Wonder Woman,” he said, shoving the remainder of his food in his mouth.

  “Really? Comic book Wonder Woman or TV show?”

  “Comics.”

  This time I grinned. “Oh. My. God. You’re a closet nerd.”

  He wadded up his lunch bag and set it on the seat next to him. “Maybe.”

  “No. You are. So this being popular thing, is it real or a farce?” I don’t know why it made a difference, but sitting here joking with him made me think there might be more to him than biceps and basketball.

  He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. “Maybe a little of both. I really like basketball, so that part of me is real, as are my good grades, but everything else I have to work at. Making public appearances at parties, throwing back beer, hanging out with some of my friends.” His lids flipped open.

  My gaze met his. “Don’t you get tired of putting on an act?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. But everyone has all these expectations of me, you know. It’s hard to step out of that.”

  “It’s easier than you think,” I said. “Once you quit worrying about what everyone else thinks, the rest just kind of falls into place.”

  “So you’re telling me it doesn’t bother you if someone says you’re weird or something like that?”

  “No. Because I’m happy with my life. I’m okay with being me. To hell with everyone else.” Yet even I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. It did bother me sometimes when people made comments. And I definitely wished I could stand up for myself more.

  “Wish it was that easy.”

  “It is,” I whispered. Watching him, I wondered if there was more going on than what I saw on the surface. But before I could dig deeper, he sat upright and cleared his throat.

  “We should probably finish discussing more about ourselves,” he said.

  “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Besides your crush on Link?”

  “Jeez, you’re not going to let that go, are you?”

  “Nope.” He reached over and ruffled my hair.

  I swatted his hand away and attempted to fix my springy hair. “As opposed to your crush on Wonder Woman?”

  “Now you’re just trying to change the subject.”

  “Well, then ask a question.”

  “Okay, here are a few: How many siblings do you have, what kinds of music do you listen to, and when was your first kiss?” He leaned back against the passenger side door.

  “I’m an only child.”

  “I should’ve guessed,” he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” My eyes narrowed.

  “Nothing.” He laughed. “Just that you kind of come and go as you please, and you never talk about any brothers or sisters.”

  “Oh.” Why did I let him rile me up so easily?

  “Are you going to finish answering?”

  “I’m working on it.” I grabbed my cup and slurped another gulp of pop. “I love any type of music—rock, country, opera, folk, pretty much anything, I’m not picky. And no, I haven’t been kissed, though I’m not sure why you need to know that.”

  “Just curious. You are my ‘girlfriend,’ so I should know if you’re experienced or not.”

  “I answered your questions, now you can answer the same ones for me,” I said, changing the subject away from my lack of physical activities with the opposite sex.

  “Okay, I have a little brother, Landon, who lives with me and my mom. I pretty much take care of him because my mom has to work a ton. My parents are divorced, and my dick head of a dad married some woman half his age and had two perfect kids, who I won’t claim as siblings. Although, I’m not sure they really exist, because I’ve never even seen pictures of them. I haven’t seen my dad since I was in fourth grade. I love rock music, especially stuff from the sixties, seventies, and eighties. I’ve kissed a couple of girls but have never really felt that spark.”

  I swallowed hard, staring at him. Hearing the way he talked about his family, I could tell there was a lot of resentment. Suddenly, I felt horrible for him. I couldn’t imagine not seeing my dad or not having any contact with him. We were super close. But Luke definitely loved his little brother, I heard it in his voice. And I wondered if maybe he’d been telling the truth when he said he’d left school that day to get his brother. If so, I felt kind of shitty. Not wanting him to feel like he was the only person sharing personal stuff, I decided I should even the playing field some.

  “You know, I once let Rex Milliron copy off me for a test so he’d quit picking on me in middle school,” I said.

  “What?” Luke said, his eyes wide.

  “I got tired of him calling me fat, so I made a deal with him…I know, kind of stupid, right?” I gave a fake laugh, trying not to think of all the jokes and tormenting.

  “He shouldn’t have done that.” Luke gave me a sympathetic look. “If he gives you any more shit, let me know.”

  “He won’t. I mean, he doesn’t…” God, we needed a change in subject. “Do you live i
n a mansion?” I blurted out.

  He raised an eyebrow. “No. Not even close. When my parents got divorced, my mom had to move out, and we ended up in a tiny two-bedroom house. I shared a room with my brother up until last year, when my mom let me turn our back porch into a room.” He sat silent a second. “Since you were so honest with me, I’m being honest with you. But you need to keep it quiet. Everyone but Brady thinks we still have money.”

  So basically everything I thought I knew about Luke was a lie.

  “Um, can we talk about you again?” he said, peering down at his hands.

  “If you want. But I’m not really all that interesting. What you see is what you get.”

  He shook his head at me. “No. I don’t think so. I think there’s more going on in that head of yours. So much more to you than what you let everyone see.”

  I tugged my glasses off and rubbed at my left eye. “Maybe. But for the most part, I’m just this—” I waved my arms in front of me. “I stay out of the spotlight.”

  “You won’t be for much longer. Not with this election and dating me. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah. Besides, if I want to make a difference, I need to do this. I mean, I’m sorry I had to blackmail you, but it really is my only way to get done what needs to get done.”

  “Everyone has an angle,” he said. “I just happened to be in the wrong place and wrong time.”

  “Maybe next time you shouldn’t do something so stupid,” I said, then clamped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. I have no filter around you.”

  He frowned. “No, you’re right. It was stupid and now I’m paying for it. So, did Mr. Leaver approve your article?”

  “No. But I do get to work on a piece about the vandalism.”

  Luke went still, his fingers gripped the console. “Shit. You’re going to out me, aren’t you?”

  I shook my head. “No. Don’t think you’re going to get out of being my boyfriend that easily. We have a deal, so you better deliver.”

  “Speaking of deals, how are we going to end this when it comes time? A public breakup? Big fight?”

  “Jeez, we’ve barely even started dating and you’re already trying to get rid of me,” I teased, rolling my eyes.