The Love Interest

by Cale Dietrich

  He clears his throat. “Man, you need to lie down and see the sky from this angle. It’s so cool.”

  I lie down beside him. Our faces are separated by only three tiles, but we aren’t looking at each other. We’re looking up at the sky. It’s navy, pinpricked by tiny dots of silver light.

  “It’s beautiful,” he says. “Did you ever dream of doing just this while you were at the LIC?” I shake my head, and he continues. “I did. All I wanted was to spend hours looking up at the stars. I seriously thought about it almost every night.

  “We could do that now—if you want to, obviously, it’s not a big thing. But we literally could look at it for hours. We don’t have to, though, if you have other things to do or something.”

  He tilts his head slightly and looks at me. His stare is a little too intense, so I look down and focus on his neck and his perfect stubble. After the bristle of his chin, there’s a long stretch of smooth skin that arcs down until it reaches the collar of his shirt.

  I steel myself, then look up and meet his stare. “I’m in if you are.”

  Because it’s the truth.

  I’ve never been more in in my life.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  “Here’s our hero!”

  Natalie grins as I approach the table. She’s sitting alone, but she’s holding her head high and her posture is perfect, so she looks perfectly comfortable in her solitude. I don’t have this ability. Whenever I sat alone at the LIC, I was sure that everyone was judging me. The fact that she can sit by herself and not give a crap what anyone thinks makes me respect the living daylights out of her.

  I sit down beside her. On the table, a ham sandwich rests on a sheet of plastic wrap beside a metallic pink water bottle. Natalie is Juliet’s best friend, and as Kaylee has repeatedly told me, it’s vitally important that she give me the seal of approval. Luckily, Juliet chose well, as Natalie is kind and good-natured. Spending time with her is fun, so I’d do it even if my life didn’t depend on it.

  “Getting beaten up is heroic now?” I say. “Wait, I’ll get Spider-Man on the phone; he probably needs to know this.”

  She chuckles. The more I see of Natalie, the more I notice how beautiful she is. Her face is—I can’t believe I’m saying this—heart-shaped, and her skin is flawless. What’s most attractive about her, though, is her constant smile, and her funny/kind/warm personality, which is seriously top tier.

  “So where’s Juliet?” asks Natalie. “This is the first time I’ve seen you apart in, like, forever.”

  “Bathroom.”

  She smiles knowingly, and scoops a piece of sliced carrot into a low-calorie avocado dip. “Seriously, funny guy, what’s the deal with you and her?” She bites down, and the carrot crunches loudly.

  “What do you mean? We’re friends.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please, you can tell me the truth. You two are so obvious. I mean, you guys got mugged yesterday, and yet today both of you are all smiles. It’s weird.”

  “Did she say anything about me?”

  “Nope. But Juliet isn’t the type to talk about what she feels. Here she comes now.”

  I turn my head and see Juliet walking across the courtyard. She raises one hand and waves, then points to the water fountain. She walks to it and joins the small line that’s formed in front of it.

  Natalie gives me her best death stare. “I don’t need to tell you that if you hurt her I’ll end you, do I? I’m a black belt, just so you know. I could crush your neck with one punch if I wanted to.”

  “That’s oddly specific.”

  “Because it’s specifically what I’ll do to you if you hurt her. I’ll crush your neck.”

  A guy stops in front of our table. He’s got black hair that tumbles over his forehead in pressed-down curls. His face is long, making his eyes look slightly dopey. “Natalie? Who’s this?”

  He sits down beside Natalie and instantly places his hand on her thigh. He’s got a huge, bulky body, easily double the size of hers. Even sitting, I have to tilt my head up a bit to meet his brown eyes.

  “Trevor,” says Natalie, “this is Caden. Caden, this is Trevor. He’s my boyfriend.”

  She slides across on the seat to get closer to him, her slim body nestling against his gigantic torso. His hand moves up her thigh. Do they even know I’m here? They’re a note of bad music away from a porno. “I was saying I think Caden and Juliet are a thing.”

  “About time,” says Trevor. “I thought Jules was going to end up an old spinster at the rate she was going.”

  Natalie slaps his arm. “Trev, you’re embarrassing him. And besides, Caden was telling me that they’re just friends. And I totally believe him.”

  Juliet reaches the table and sits down beside me. I mouth the word “hi,” and she smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She does that a lot. I wonder what she’s thinking about when she does it.

  “What’re you talking about?” she asks.

  “Spinsters,” I say.

  “That’s oddly specific.”

  Natalie smirks. She tilts her head a fraction to look past me, and the smirk fades. Juliet is also looking in the same direction. Her eyebrows narrow.

  I spin around and get a good look.

  It’s Dyl.

  He’s wearing the school uniform, but it’s at least one size too big, as the white shirt hangs off his lanky frame and the gray slacks rest low on his hips. The top button is undone, and his hair is a dark, spiky mess. His cheeks are still covered in rough stubble, even though the school dress code prohibits facial hair. Actually, he probably avoided shaving because it’s against the dress code. Either way, it suits him.

  He strides across the courtyard like he owns the place, with his head up high and his arms level with his shoulders. He finds an empty seat in the shade of a tree and sits down, then he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small book with a pale-blue cover. He opens it to a bookmarked page and starts reading.

  Trevor glares at him. “Is that poetry? Who the fuck reads poetry?”

  I stifle a laugh. Then I notice Juliet. She’s leaning slightly forward, her chin resting on her fist. Her eyelids are drooping slightly. “Lots of people do. Hundreds of poetry books are published every year. Someone must read them.”

  “I’m telling you,” says Trevor. “There are only three types of people who read poetry for fun. First, English teachers or majors. Second, people who want to be poets themselves. Third, people who want to seem impressive. Seeing as that guy is obviously not in category one or two, I declare him three. Caden knows what I’m talking about.”

  Do I ever.

  Natalie nudges him again. “Just because you’re shallower than a Michael Bay movie…”

  “Have any of you heard what happened to him?” asks Juliet. “Everyone in the bathroom was talking about it. If that happened to me, I’d probably read poetry too.”

  Dyl turns a page of his book.

  I turn back to Juliet. “What happened to him?”

  “It’s awful, Caden. His house burned down, and his parents were, well, they didn’t make it out. So his rich aunt adopted him, which is why he moved here. He lives in a big mansion on the coast, the one fenced off from everything. I think it’s really brave of him to be at school so soon after it happened. So maybe we should be nice to him.”

  So that’s his backstory. Classic, painful, and effective at generating massive amounts of sympathy. No one would get through that without being tortured, and even though I know it’s all a lie, I can’t look at Dyl the same way. He’s acting like he’s hurt, and him hurting hurts me. Good job, Judy.

  “Let’s stop talking about it,” says Natalie. “It’s making me feel bad. And I didn’t get to finish boasting to Caden about my stunning boyfriend.” She rubs Trevor’s chest. “He’s going to the Olympics. Everyone in the know says so. It’s been expected of him ever since he was a kid.”

  He raises his hand. It’s almost the size of a dinner plate. “I’ve
got big hands. And even bigger feet.”

  My eyes flit to the side to get a glimpse of Juliet. She’s still staring at Dyl. My heart starts to thunder.

  Get the attention away from him!

  “The Olympics?” I say, a little too loudly. “That’s interesting.”

  Natalie grins and grabs Trevor’s hand. “Yeah, Trevor’s a swimmer, and he’s one of the best in the country. Freestyle’s his specialty, which means he’s the fastest of the fast. He’s totally going to the Olympics. Actually, the school’s swimming carnival is coming up. It doesn’t count for anything, that’s so beneath him, but he’s still going to swim.”

  “Aw, babe,” he says, and he plants a firm kiss on her cheek. “I love it when you get all proud. But yeah, I mean, the carnival isn’t much, seeing as I’ve already qualified for nationals. Oh, and hey, just so you know, nationals are in DC this year, so you’re totally welcome to come and watch if you’d like. I’d like to get a little cheer squad going. Anyway, enough about me. Do you swim, Caden?”

  “I prefer running. There’s less chance of drowning. Also, fewer old guys in Speedos.”

  He chortles. “That’s very true. But you should get used to it, because like Nat said, the carnival is coming up. You can watch if you like—it’s all these girls do—but it’s more fun to be in it.”

  Thank you, Trevor. A swimming carnival means one thing: an excuse to take my shirt off in front of Juliet.

  Caden! This is—

  So perfect, right?

  Yep, it’s amazing. Make sure you say yes, but don’t seem overeager or anything.

  “Yeah, um, that sounds great. It’s worth a shot, right?”

  “Exactly! I like your attitude, man!”

  Juliet moves for the first time since Dyl appeared. She tugs at the front of her shirt. “I wonder what he’s reading. He looks really into it.”

  I stare at him. His head is bowed, and the book is open on his lap. His face is still, almost serene. I imagine a bomb going off behind him and him not even flinching. He turns a page. What’s he reading? What combination of words could be so damn entertaining? I want to walk over to him and straight-up ask. I imagine him looking up from his book and smiling at me.

  Maybe I’ll see him tonight. Maybe I can ask him then.

  That makes me smile.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  I can’t sleep. I’m on my bed with my blanket pulled up over my body, leaving my head and my bare shoulders exposed. My ceiling is white, and a massive crack runs from one end to the other. To pass the time, my eyes follow the seam as it twists and spirals across the plaster. Dad’s loud, honking snores vibrate through the entire house.

  The noise is annoying, but that’s not what’s keeping me up. There are two possible explanations for my current insomnia: the first is that I’m in the middle of a fight for my life and that’s stressing me out. It makes sense. I can’t help but think that there must be more I can do to make Juliet like me. Every interaction with her is burned into my memory, each moment taken apart and scrutinized. Was I Nice enough? Did I charm her? Did she look at me and see a man she could spend the rest of her life with? Also, does she even want to meet her life partner right now? Or ever?

  The other explanation is a little more confusing: Dyl. Even though I’m stressed about the contest, every now and then I think about him, or, more specifically, the prospect of him visiting me tonight, and I grin. I can’t help it. The nights he visited were two of the best nights of my life. Talking to him, I don’t feel so conflicted. He knows what I am, and I know what he is. We both know we’re on guard, and we both know we’re lying about things, so I don’t feel like I’m taking advantage of him. With me, he knows what he’s getting, yet he keeps coming back for more.

  I hear a grunt, and I spin around and close my eyes. The roof groans and I hear a body slide up onto the tiles.

  Footsteps thud across the shingles.

  The window rattles.

  I close my eyes tighter and curl into a small ball. But a grin has cracked my face. I know he can only see the back of my head, so smiling doesn’t matter. He’ll think I’m still asleep. He’s outside right now, waiting for me. I know what he’ll look like, and that’s making a weird giddy feeling swirl in my stomach.

  The knock sounds again, louder this time.

  I sit up and my eyes catch his for a second. His mouth is hanging open, a sign he’s still breathless from the climb up. I scratch the side of my head as I climb out of bed. This time I don’t bother getting dressed before I walk over to the window.

  “Hey,” I say as I unlatch it. “You’re getting predictable.” I pull on my pants. Wait, he’s not looking at me. His eyes are on the window frame, and he’s digging his fingers into the wood, chipping off the brown varnish. Is it because I’m shirtless? Why doesn’t he want to look at me without my shirt on? I zip up my fly. “That’s not very Bad of you.” I pull a navy sweater over my head. Before he came over, I tried on a bunch of different sweaters, trying to find the right one. This one fits perfectly, pressing kind of tight against my body, showing a hint of my pecs and biceps.

  He rolls his eyes. I climb out through the window and sit on my spot on the edge of the roof.

  He sits down beside me. His long, thin hands are clasped together. “I’m sick of being Bad. It’s bullshit, man. This whole thing. Did you see me today, at school?”

  “Of course I did. Everyone noticed. More important, Juliet definitely did. I was meaning to ask you, what were you reading? You seemed really into it.”

  His face falls. “Seriously, you fell for it too? It was stupid and boring and I hated it. It was all acting, and I feel so fake. Even when I was reading that boring-ass book like it was book eight of Harry Potter, all I could think about was how I couldn’t wait to come here tonight. It’s the one time I feel like myself. Do you know what Judy wants me to do?” I shake my head. “She wants me to start being mean to Juliet.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, tomorrow in gym class I need to be aggressive toward her. You know she’s taking self-defense as an elective, right? Well, tomorrow I’m supposed to hurt her a little bit.”

  He’s telling me too much. A part of me wants to tell him to shut up, to stop handing me his life. I know I can’t do that. He’s exposed his soft underbelly, so I have to get in as many hits as I can. It’s who I’m supposed to be.

  “That’s horrible!” I say. “And, quite frankly, stupid. Why does Judy think that will make Juliet like you?”

  “Apparently it’ll make me seem like a tortured soul who is lashing out, because I can’t handle all the epic, sexy pain within me. And apparently that will make Juliet think she can fix me, to help me deal, and that will make her fall for me. I dunno, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me, but wouldn’t it take a lot more than a crush to get over the death of my parents?”

  “Whatever, Batman.”

  He tilts his head back and laughs. “At least I’m not going to give her diabetes. And fair warning, as part of my tortured-soul thing I have to start being mean to you. Apparently that will make me seem strong and make you seem weak. Because strong nowadays means being a total dick. I just want you to know that I don’t mean what I say to you out there, it’s just acting. I think you’re an awesome guy. I probably didn’t write it anyway; Judy scripts pretty much all my conversations because she’s scared I’m going to screw it up.”

  “What?”

  “She thinks I’m too soft to be a good Bad and that you’re taking the lead because of it. She says I have to make you look pathetic, otherwise I’ll lose and, well, you know what’ll happen. What’s Kaylee’s strategy for you?”

  “She doesn’t have one. I think she thinks I’m doing well.”

  “Has she told you when you’re going to kiss her?”

  “Not yet. Do you know when you’re going to?”

  “Yeah, it’s at the costume party at the end of the semester.”

  “What costume party?” I ask
.

  “Yeah, there’s going to be one, I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon. Judy wanted our love story to have a big moment, so she sent a donation to the school board in order to fund it. Anyway, I’m going to be dressed as a devil. My costume is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a red domino mask and horns, and then I’m shirtless, with a pair of these pointed bat wings attached to my back, and then red leather pants. I’m going to look like a total fool. Plus, I have to do so many crunches to look good in it that my abs hurt all the time. Like, even right now, they ache.” He pats his stomach. “Right here.”

  “And you’re going to kiss her?”

  He scratches the back of his hand. “Yeah, I am.”

  That sort of hangs in the air for a while.

  “Are you looking forward to it?”

  He fidgets. “I guess. I mean, the only practice I’ve had is during kissing classes, so I’m worried about screwing it up. Kissing has to be more than a physical skill, right? Because I know about lip pressure and when to use tongue and all that, but what about the connection? What if I screw that up? I just don’t think a perfect kiss is something that can be taught.”

  “I feel the same. I wish there was a way to get better at it.”

  My heart is pounding. Can he hear it?

  God, I hope he can’t hear it.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he says, and he leans forward, fixing his eyes on the dark horizon. He’s all jittery, like an excited puppy. “Come with me.”

  I remain in my spot. “Where are we going?”

  “Have you ever been for a drive? And I’m not talking about in the limo on the way here. I’m talking an actual drive, with the wind in your hair, the whole sky above you, and the world in front of you. It’s the most amazing thing in the world, and I’d like to show it to you.”

  “Of course not.” I roll my eyes at my own bluntness. “I mean, no, I haven’t.”

  “Would you like to?”

  I nod. “But first, I need to know something.”

  “I’ll tell you anything. What’s up?”

  I exhale, yet it doesn’t release the cramped, cold feeling in my chest. I have to warn him about me. Otherwise this will all be over in a few weeks and he’ll be dead. The other option is that he’s playing me, and if that’s the case, I need him to know I’m not falling for his act.