by Judy Corry
Then I remembered the text he'd sent me yesterday. Was he really changing for the better?
No. I shook my head. British Boy was real. I'd just imagined him speaking with an American accent a second ago. I couldn't have been tricked so badly by him. He was a good guy, not a master of deceit.
I finally made it out of the lab, but the hall was empty. I rushed down the hall to see if he was down the next one. I caught a glimpse of a guy wearing a red jacket with the hood pulled over his head.
"Hey, wait!" I called as I started running, not caring how it looked to the other students standing against their lockers. But the hooded guy didn't look back. Instead, he started running too. The warning bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. And with the bell, the hall burst with life again. It was only a matter of seconds before British Boy disappeared into the crowd.
I'd lost him.
When the crowd cleared and I still couldn’t find him, I knew it was futile. British Boy didn't want me to know who he was. He hadn't wanted to ever meet out of the dark because he knew exactly who I was, and for some reason, that kept him from me. Was I not good enough for him?
I walked back down the hallway with my shoulders slumped, slogging one foot in front of the other. About halfway down the hall, something red caught my eye. It was the sleeve of a red hoodie poking out of the garbage can.
British Boy had thrown away the one thing I would recognize him by. A few students lingered but none looked my way, so I grabbed the hoodie out of the garbage. I hugged it to my chest and continued down the hall. British Boy had been real, but not real in the way I wanted. This red jacket was the last thing I had to help me figure out who he was.
I stuffed it in my locker and debated whether I wanted to go to Spanish after all. I really didn't feel like it. I wanted to go home and mope in the privacy of my own room.
Today was supposed to be a great day. It had started out great. I'd been able to meet British boy. Had kissed him even. That kiss had been off-the-charts amazing. But then the world slipped out from under my feet and I found out that everything had been a lie.
British Boy had lied to me from the moment we met. And had just kept on lying to me.
I took a deep breath before heading into my Spanish class. For all I knew, British Boy could be in there watching for me.
All eyes were on me as I walked in. I tried to ignore their stares as I took my seat across from Eliana. Mrs. Frederick was standing in front of the class, lecturing about something like conjugating verbs. But she couldn't hold my attention. Not today.
Eliana turned her head and whispered, "How was it? Are you and British Boy going to be seeing more of each other?" She sounded so hopeful and sure that everything had gone well. Which it had, until the last minute we were together.
I shook my head and looked at the board so Mrs. Fredericks wouldn't suspect we were talking. "I'll tell you about it later."
After class, Eliana and I walked to our lockers together, weaving our way through the packed hall. Wherever I looked, I thought I saw him. Tall guys were everywhere, many with dark hair.
"Did you notice if Noah was in the cafeteria during lunch today" I asked Eliana, hopeful that he had been. I didn't want British Boy to be Noah. That would have been horrible if he'd listened in on everything that I’d said about him to British Boy. Was that why he apologized to me yesterday about Saturday night? Because I'd told him how badly he made me feel?
Eliana looked thoughtful for a second. "I don't think so, but I wasn't looking for him. Jess was flirting with Breanna Murdock all throughout lunch so that kind of distracted me."
My brother. Why was he doing this again?
But my brother would have to wait until later. "So you don’t remember seeing Noah then?"
She pinched her lips, as if she was picturing the scene one more time. "No. I don't remember seeing him or not. Why?"
"I have a feeling British Boy might be Noah."
Eliana gasped, and her face turned from confusion to shock. "You think Noah is British Boy? Why would you think that?"
"Because of some of the things he said," I said, switching out some of my books from my locker.
"I'm so confused. What exactly happened in there today?"
I stared at British Boy’s red hoodie. "Well, first he told me he didn't think I was his type. Giving me a bunch of garbage about how we were perfect for each other but that he wanted a relationship that challenged him."
"He did?" Eliana said with all the shock that statement deserved.
"Yup. That ended up being a bunch of crap, of course, so then he tried telling me that he was moving to England."
Eliana frowned. "Oh no. I'm so sorry."
I lifted my hand, cutting her off from her sympathy. "But that ended up being a lie too—at least I think so. But anyway, I was devastated about him moving and decided to throw caution to the wind. So I kissed him."
"You what?" Her voice jumped up an octave and her mouth dropped. "How was it?"
I bit my lip, remembering the kiss and how amazing it had been. But then I remembered how it ended. "It was really good. Almost like we were made to kiss each other." I had the sinking feeling that maybe it was so awesome because maybe we’d actually done it before. But Noah could not be British Boy. He just couldn't be. "Anyway, the kiss was really, really good, but then after, he said my name and told me he’d been pretending the whole time—all this in an American accent."
Eliana was silent. Then she said, "British Boy isn't British? How could that be true? I thought you said he sounded like it."
I nodded and shut my locker. "He must be an expert at tricking people into thinking he's from England. He said that he started doing it because he knew who I was from the start and that I never would have talked to him as himself."
"Oh." Eliana nodded as if she understood everything now. "So that's why you think British Boy might be Noah?"
"Yeah, and I really don't want him to be." Though he had lived with his grandma in London before she died a few years ago, right after his parents divorced.
"Do you think British Boy was faking being nice the whole time?"
I leaned against my locker. "I hope it wasn't all fake. But now I'll never know. He did lie the whole time, whoever he is. I just hope Noah wasn't trying to get some sort of revenge on me and planning to secretly share my secrets with the world."
"I doubt that's what happened. I mean, you guys have been messaging for a while. He had a lot of chances to use some of the things that you told him, but he hasn't yet. I think you'll be fine."
If only my heart would be fine. I'd fallen for him so badly. Having it all taken away in a second was crushing.
"Where do you go from here?" Eliana asked.
I sighed. "I don't know."
20
Luke
I was nervous and shaky the rest of the day after my lunch period with Ashlyn. I didn't think she had recognized my voice, since I'd made it come out more gravelly than usual. But if she remembered all the clues I’d given her before, anything about me doing vocal impersonations, it was only a matter of time before she figured out the truth. I just hoped that by ending the deception now, instead of continuing it, that she'd find a way to forgive me if she did find out the truth.
But I had to admit that a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders now that I didn't have a lie to keep up anymore. I really liked her, and even if she hated British Boy, hopefully she'd still be able to be my friend.
She messaged British Boy during fourth period.
Tell me who you are, please. That kiss was amazing, and I need to know this wasn't just some big joke to you.
My insides warmed at the thought that she'd liked kissing me as much as I'd loved kissing her. But I couldn't respond to her. The messaging needed to stop now. The lying had to stop now. She needed to forget about British Boy.
I was distracted all through football practice, which left me wide open for Noah. He seemed to be in an even worse mood tha
n usual and hit extra hard today.
"Get your head in the game, Davenport," Coach yelled when I took too long to get back on my feet.
I stood, shook out my shoulders, and waited for Noah to come at me again. I needed to focus on what I was doing. Coach had sent tapes of our games to a few college recruiters and a handful had shown interest in coming later this season. I had to be playing at my best. I rolled my shoulders back and bit down on my mouth guard. I had to make it through practice, and then I could worry about Ashlyn again.
I managed to make it through the rest of practice without getting pummeled again. Afterwards, I grabbed a number four with a frosty from Wendy's drive-through then hurried home to shower. Before everything had gone down between British Boy and Ashlyn today, we had arranged to practice our dance at her house this evening. Part of me wanted to chicken out and cancel on her, but I needed to be brave and face her. I couldn't let on that anything had changed for me today.
I drove to Ashlyn’s house after showering and putting on my real cologne. My heart started racing as soon as she opened the door. When she smiled at me, images of that kiss in the Chemistry lab jumped to the forefront of my mind. Her lips on my lips. Her fingers running through my hair. It had been incredible. The kind of kiss that inspired songs and romance movies and all that other lovey-dovey stuff. I was going to have a really hard time keeping my lips to myself now that I knew what it was like to kiss her.
"We're just going to practice in the family room today. I hope that's fine," she said as she led me into her house. As I followed her, my eyes kept wanting to linger on the colorful leggings she wore. But instead of checking out her butt, I forced my eyes up higher and admired her hair, which was pulled into a messy bun sort of thing.
"Did you finish choreographing the dance then?" I asked, hoping to break the ice between us.
"I think so. I picked the waltz, since it was something you're already familiar with. And hopefully, it should be easy to learn with our limited time together." She looked like she normally did, unless you were paying attention to her eyes, which were sad. Disappointed somehow. Like the thing that had given them light and excitement was now gone. I wanted to punch myself at that thought, because I knew it was all my fault.
"The waltz is good." Not exactly a cool hip-hop, manly dance I'd been hoping for, but I wasn't about to complain. I didn't deserve to, after everything I'd done to this wonderful girl in front of me.
She turned the music on, and a song that I'd heard a few years ago started playing through the speakers. "Is this A Thousand Years?" I asked.
She nodded and gestured for me to stand in front of her. Guiding me into the correct position for the dance, she set my hand on her back. She held my other hand in hers, and my palms immediately felt sweaty with her touch. She smelled just as good as she had in the Chemistry lab and I had a hard time breathing. The memory of holding her tightly in my arms with her body pressed against mine popped into my mind.
But sadly for me, while I was having a hard time controlling my breathing around her, she didn't have any sort of reaction to me at all. I tried not to feel too bad that she still didn't seem to recognize me since I should be thankful for that.
"Okay, so first we will start with the basic waltz step again, just to get used to the rhythm, and then we'll work on a few turns, lifts, and dips. Overall, it should be really simple, and hopefully, judges will interpret the simplicity for elegance."
"If you say so." Though it sounded pretty complicated to me.
On her cue, we started stepping slowly to the song. It was a beautiful song, a very romantic one that I'd imagine being played at weddings.
We danced through the song a few times until the triple step was fully ingrained into my brain. I'd probably show up to football practice dance-running in three-four time if I wasn't careful. By the time we took our first break, I had learned a quarter of the choreography she had planned for us.
Ashlyn turned off the music and slumped down onto the couch, looking so disappointed and sad.
"Having a rough day?" I asked, sitting down beside her.
She pulled the throw pillow over her chest and hugged it. "You can say that. More disappointing than anything, I guess."
"Disappointed in my dancing?" I asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
A small smile flitted across her lips. "Your dancing is fine. It's just something else didn't go quite like I wanted today."
"Something at school?" I asked, still playing dumb.
She twisted in her seat to face me. "Yeah, you know that guy I was telling you about on Saturday? My secret pen pal?"
I cleared my throat. "Yeah. The one you really like?"
She nodded and picked at her cuticles. "We met today, and I found out he's been lying to me the whole time."
"Yeah?" I rubbed the back of my neck. An alarm was going off inside me, telling me not to continue with this conversation, but I was too curious about her thoughts.
"I guess it's not going to work out between us after all. I just feel so stupid for having fallen so hard for someone who wasn't even real." Her blue eyes were so open and vulnerable. I wanted to reach over and give her a hug.
"What do you mean ‘not real’?"
She blew out a long, heavy breath. "You see, this whole time I thought I was talking to some guy from England. But it turns out that he was faking his accent. He's just some regular guy from school who knew who I was and decided to play me hard."
My stomach turned to stone. When she said it like that, I really did sound like a horrible person. "Are you sure he was trying to hurt you? Is it possible that he knew how amazing you are and just didn't think that he stood a chance?"
She shook her head. "Yeah, right. No guy would think I'm amazing."
I did. But I couldn't tell her that. She didn't like me in that way. "You're awesome, Ashlyn. And tons of guys at school would agree with me. I mean, you did have a bunch of guys texting you a couple weeks ago, right?"
That earned me a half smile. "Okay, fine. Some of your friends seem to think I'm hot."
"And I think you're awesome, too."
She looked up at me and touched my knee. "Thanks for saying that. You're a great guy, Luke."
I stared at her hand on my knee, wishing I could cover it with mine. But I knew she'd probably snatch it away as fast as she'd given me her cheek yesterday.
"Oh well." She sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "That's enough moping around for one day."
I smiled. "Yes. Enough of that. I'm supposed to be the mopey one in this partnership."
She smacked me in the chest with her pillow. "Nope. You can't mope either. Not when we have a dance to finish learning." She stood and held her hand out for me. "Break's over. Time to teach you that lift."
I let her help me to my feet, the feel of her delicate fingers in mine never getting old. Instead of walking to the stereo to turn on the music like I'd expected, Ashlyn stepped closer and gave me a hug.
"Thanks for listening to me." She spoke next to my ear. "You always know how to make me feel better."
I returned her embrace, enjoying the smell of her hair as I held her close. "Anytime."
21
Ashlyn
It was strange how just a ten-minute talk with Luke could make me feel so much better. I'd been completely lost and depressed all day, and then suddenly I felt happy again. It was like Luke had taken the same magic that British Boy had used on me.
The second half of our practice went much better. Luke was catching on a lot faster than I'd expected, and before long, he'd learned the first half of the dance.
Now I just had to teach him the lift and we could call it a day. Lifts were what really wowed the audience and would hopefully get us the winning points from the judges.
"I was thinking you should spin me away from you." I took his hand and ran through the move as I explained it. "We'll both do a little arm flair, like this." I stretched my arm out to complete the full extension and waited fo
r him to do the same. "Very good. Then I'll turn back in before gracefully jumping with my arms around your shoulders, and then we spin."
"Gracefully jump?" he asked, like those two words didn't fit together.
"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "Like this." I took his hand and repeated what I'd just showed him, completing it by jumping with my arms around his shoulders in a way that should have propelled us into a graceful spin.
But instead of turning the way I'd expected him to, he stumbled, and we crashed to the ground with a thump.
Ugh. Luke's knee was bony.
"Are your muscles full of air and just for looks?" I stood and rubbed my butt where I'd landed on his knee.
"No, of course not." He just sat there rubbing his knee. "I wasn't ready."
"Coulda fooled me," I said, joking. He was seriously ripped, so not being ready was about the only reason why he'd collapsed under my weight.
"I seem to remember you referring to my arms as guns the first time we practiced. So, yeah. You know there's not just air in there." He held his arm up and flexed his bicep so I could see the huge muscled bump that it was, with corded veins poking out and everything.
Dang. I bit my lip. His arms were definitely not made of air. They were made from heaven itself.
He grinned when he noticed my admiration and dropped his arm back to his side.
"Wanna help me up again? My air muscles are too weak to do anything." He held his hands out like a helpless child.
I offered him my hand, which he took, and then he immediately yanked me back down. Before I knew it, he had me pinned beneath him and he was tickling my sides.
I started twitching and became incapacitated. "Stop. It. I. Can't. Breathe," I said between uncontrolled giggles.
He smiled wickedly but didn't stop the torture. "If my muscles are full of air, then why can't you get away? Tell me you were wrong to insult my guns."