I blurted out dramatically, “I, Felix James, can’t be interested in Hazel? Why not?”
“It’s just…” Kimmy, eyes skeptical, looked from Hazel to me back to Hazel.
I could see what she was thinking. Smart, quirky Hazel was not my type. But it was also an insult. Hazel would never like me, even if I did expand my taste beyond the typical girls I dated.
She would never like me back. I flinched, offended.
“Don’t change the subject,” Hazel blurted out. “You’re with Jay, my Jay, why can’t I be with…Fe…” She trailed off, flustered.
She couldn’t even say my name.
The thought of her being with me seemed as ludicrous to her as it did to my sister.
So outrageous.
Not cool.
Why not? Hypothetically…why wouldn’t she want me?
Now I was offended times two. No. Times five Way offended.
No one dissed the cat.
I had to make this seem legit.
“We have a lot more in common than you might think,” I said, pursing my lips in a persuasive nod.
“Like?” Kimmy asked, clearly pissed.
Like our apparent red-hot chemistry? But that seemed weird. Also, I wasn’t sure I could exactly admit it out loud. It would totally freak out Hazel.
“Like…Mastermind!” I nodded again with a big, confident, whole body shrug. The move I used when trying to get out of a late homework assignment.
This was met with an eyebrow cock from my sister and Jay.
“Mastermind? The kids’ game?”
“It’s not just a kids’ game,” I emphasized. “It’s a brain test of epic propositions.”
“A brain test?” Jay said skeptically.
“Look, Dick. You’re lucky I’m not beating the crap out of you right now,” I said, inching forward a bit. I was a chill guy, but he had no right to be questioning me after what he’d just done to Hazel.
“Fine,” he said, backing way off. Hands in surrender position. That’s right, douche. Step away.
“Anyway,” I continued, making stuff up as I went along—those improv drills were paying off!—“we’ve been playing for years together. And that’s how it all began.”
Hazel’s eyes were misty now, and against the blue, the mist made me think of dawn on the waves on a still day.
Gah. Knock if off, Felix.
Focus. I thought she was about to start crying, but then, upon closer inspection, I could see her eyes crinkling up around the edges. She was biting her lip to keep from laughing!
Keep it together, girl.
“Right, Baze?” I elbowed her gently, trying to keep her in the game. “It’s like a whole mind meld thing going on when we sit down on your hearth’s edge and bust out a game of Mind.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, barely hanging on. She bit her wavering lip. “Definitely.”
“Anyway.” I grabbed her hand tightly, eager to get her out of there before she busted up and ruined everything. “We’ll leave you two cheating a-holes to it. Lunch or whatever you were doing together.”
I flashed the illicit pair my best up and down look of disgust and pulled Hazel away.
Chapter Seven
Hazel
Oh.
My.
God.
What was that?
This isn’t happening.
This is a dream.
This is a nightmare.
No. It was a nightmarish dream. You know, one of those that starts bad but then ends all melty and amazing, and you’re thinking WTF, how am I going to even begin my day when my psyche is still in this wonderful dream state? No. Scratch that. Devastating dream state. This was a nightmare, not a dream. Felix’s delicious lips were beside the point.
Who knew he’d be such a great kisser? Gah. Gah. GAH!
I’m not even here. This isn’t happening. I’m at home. I’m in bed.
I was about to wake up. Jay and I were still together—of course we were together!—and Kimmy was still my best friend, and Felix was still the disgusting brother of my best friend.
My best friend was not dating my boyfriend, and I hadn’t just made out with Felix end-of-movie style in front of the entire caf.
I pinched my numb cheek with my one free hand. The hand that wasn’t entwined with Felix’s.
Yes, it hurt. So I was awake.
I was holding Felix’s giant hand. It felt so different than Jay’s. Jay’s was small. Much smaller than Felix’s. Felix’s felt like a mitt in mine. Or like a sea turtle shell. And my hand was a little scared turtle face sticking out of it, asking if things were okay. If it was safe to come out.
Jay’s hand was usually cold. Felix’s hand was hot and sweaty. Or mine was. I wasn’t sure whose hands were sweating? Maybe both of ours. This was a big traumatic event. A sweaty-palm-making event.
His hand was real and warm and alive. My heart wasn’t just pounding, it was jackhammering through my ribs. This wasn’t a dream.
I used to secretly mock Kimmy’s love of teen romance novels: the supernatural love triangles, the Which Perfect Boy to Choose stories. How a “regular” teenage girl could also be a pro archer and a black belt level martial arts practitioner. Never mind their perfect code of morality, etc. etc. But now I kind of…understood.
Kissing Felix was like succumbing to a sexy vampire who lurks above your bed in the middle of the night, beckoning with his inescapable glamor.
Or Heathcliff on the cliffs above the moors.
I’d thought about kissing him before, sure. Wait. Scratch that. Not actually kissing him, but like, hypothetically imagining what it would be like. I’d seen him macking all over those Barbies on campus, on the beach, leaning against the hot-dog stand on the boardwalk awash in golden-pink sunset wearing nothing but board shorts, but never, never, ever, in my wildest imagination did I think it’d be that…good.
As he dragged me out of the caf, I was so weak in the knees that I could barely keep one foot in front of the other.
“You okay there, Baze?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
He was good, and he knew it.
Which infuriated me! I couldn’t be one of those girls who fell for the rogue. That wasn’t me. It never would be. I transferred my embarrassment over these disturbing new feelings into anger.
“No, I’m not okay. I’m anything but okay! I still can’t believe any of this is happening. How could they be doing that behind my back? What is wrong with them? Have they no moral compass? Does Kimmy not retain any of the messages in the book series she reads? Is this what the world is coming to?”
He spun me toward him and set a strong hand on each of my shoulders.
His hands felt like those heavy lavender-smelling rice bags my mom warmed up and put on her tired eyes to rest at night.
Why was my heart beating so fast? Were his eyes always that sweet chocolate brown? What in the world was happening?
My eyes left his and fell to his lips. I felt a zap deep in my heart, like an arrow with some sort of insane love potion was shooting me.
He cocked his head, grinning. He knew the effect he had on girls! How could I agree to this? Why had I kissed Felix James?
“You okay there, Baze?”
And it wasn’t bad enough that Jay had broken my heart. The timing couldn’t have been worse.
I shook my head. “Valentine’s Day is a week away! How could he do this on Valentine’s week?” I gulped and swiped a tear off my cheek.
“Hey now.” He touched my chin. “It’s going to be okay.”
He didn’t look like he was going to kiss me. Why would he? We were alone now. The show was over. Instead, he looked sweet and protective. Felix James? Sweet and protective? He’d once stuck Fourth of July sparklers in my closet. Lit!
My brain whirled as he leaned forward, inching closer…
Was he going to kiss me again after all? Right here in the locker hallways?
Don’t succumb again, Hazel.
Right when his
lips were about to graze mine, he took a sharp detour right and whispered in my ear instead. “It’s perfect timing that it’s Valentine’s Day. And don’t worry. It’ll be our little secret, Baze. You and me. We’ll show them not to mess with us.”
“But the dance…”
I was in a daze. This couldn’t be happening.
“The dance is all part of the plan,” he said. “Haven’t you heard? Revenge is the best medicine for heartbreak.”
Chapter Eight
Felix
All day I thought about Basil and that kiss.
Weird, right?
I mean, I never thought about her like that before. Sure, I always knew she was a girl. A nice, goofy girl—a friend of my sister. Sure, I always liked to tease her and enjoyed her company in general, but wow.
That kiss.
Not that I normally focused that much in class, but today I couldn’t even pretend to focus.
“Anybody have any idea how to solve for X?”
The typical know-it-alls raised their hands, while I sat in the back row with my sunglasses over my eyes, trying to doze off but finding it too hard to sleep.
Her lips. Her hands wrapped around my neck, then in my hair…
And that was when we were in public. What if we were alone? What would happen next?
I breathed out a full jar of air sigh.
What had I suggested exactly?
I rewound the events in my head. It had happened so fast. Had been so spontaneous. I’d just wanted to help out Hazel.
Essentially, I’d proposed we keep up this stunt of pretending we were together to piss off my sister and, most importantly, traitorous Jay (the prick—I’ve hated him since middle school when he narced on me for cheating off one of his tests). He was one of the country club snobs carefully ensconced in his pillared house (who, on the West Coast, had a house with pillars for God’s sakes?), with his little white tennis shorts and his Polo shirts. Gah. What did Base see in him anyway? He wasn’t worth the remnants of her sparkling water. (Hazel loved sparkling water, and I always made sure we had a supply for her in our house when she came over.)
Wait.
Why did I always make sure she had sparkling water at our house?
Did I actually like Hazel?
No. No way!
Come on, gimme a break.
Girl like that with a boy like me?
It’d never work.
“Hey, Felix,” came a singsong voice across the aisle.
“Yes?” I asked.
“You free later or what?”
Jenna Jones.
Smoking hot.
Easy on the eyes.
(Easy all around, if you know what I mean.)
But most importantly, Jenna Jones was all about me—aka one of my usual after-school hookups.
“Sure. Why not?” I shrugged casually. It was important to stay cool and appear disinterested with the ladies—that was what kept them coming back for more.
Her eyes lit up with challenge, with conquest. I was her prey, and she was a seasoned huntress.
“Where do you want to meet?” she asked, nibbling the tip of her pencil suggestively.
“How about my place?” I proposed—then remembered the revenge plan. “Oh, shoot. Wait.”
If me and Hazel were really going to act like we were together, what would it look like if I was suddenly hitting mac town with Jenna Jones at my place?
“Er, um, can I text you later?” I asked.
She did this funny neck-lurch thing that made me think of a giraffe after chewing a mouthful of grass stretched from a too-tall tree.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Upon closer look, she wasn’t as hot as I thought she was.
That was weird. A couple of days ago, she’d looked good. More than good. Now she just looked…
She was mostly too much makeup and hair. I preferred less makeup and more natural hair. Faded old jeans. I preferred…smart and witty, irrationally anxious around attractive, faux-gentlemen callers…
Oh no. What was happening here?
There was only one girl I knew who fit that description. First name rhymed with blaze.
I was in trouble.
My fake relationship with Hazel felt more real than my real “relationships” did.
Chapter Nine
Hazel
I managed to make it through the second half of the week by dashing into the bathroom to hyperventilate between classes. (But I still wouldn’t eat my lunch in there).
Completely unable to focus on anything my teachers said, I went over and over and over everything that had happened these past two days, and then everything about the last few weeks, retracing my steps both as an individual and for Jay and me as a couple.
How long had this been going on between Jay and Kimmy? I hadn’t even thought they liked each other! Whenever I’d suggested to Kimmy we hang with Jay after school, she’d nixed it. Same with Jay. Maybe this had been part of their plan. You know, like you pretend you don’t like the boy/girl that you’re majorly crushing on in hopes no one else figures it out? Or maybe they were telling the truth. Maybe it just happened randomly.
But does love ever happen randomly?
Not in my experience. Jay and I happened because I chose him. Because he matched all the criteria of a perfect high school boyfriend who would one day have the potential of becoming the perfect college boyfriend who would one day become the perfect marriage partner.
It wasn’t random.
It wasn’t some lovesick, starry-eyed, lame thing.
And that’s what had been great about it!
Right?
Bottom line? Kimmy wasn’t who I thought she was. She wasn’t my best friend.
Bottom line? Jay wasn’t who I thought he was, either. He wasn’t the perfect boyfriend.
They were both jerks. Sleazebags. Double douchebags, the whole lot of them.
I exhaled, chills popping up and down my spine.
And Felix!
He’d just come up with this perfectly insane revenge plan on a dime like that?
And that kiss. That Felix kiss.
Damn.
It was nothing like Jay’s kisses, which, if I was being perfectly honest, was this special brand of semi-awkward and sloppy. He plunged in like a Mack truck trying to eat my brains by way of my tonsils. I went along with them, of course, but I tried more and more often to squirrel out of the way and do something else—anything else—when he kissed me.
But Felix…
It was slow and soft at first, and then this crazy buildup that…I took a deep breath, poofing out my cheeks and slowly exhaling through flushed cheeks, and rubbed my head.
I can’t remember ever being this upset and this…exhilarated…at once. I hated myself for it. How could the biggest player in town even marginally turn me on? Of course he was a good kisser! All he did was practice! Meanwhile, Jay was doing important things: studying, playing ball, being a good boyfriend…
Minus the last part now.
I shoved my face in my hands. Just get through this one more class.
When the last bell shrilled, I sprinted for my beat-up Jeep, a hand-me-down from my late dad, which was waiting in the parking lot.
I managed to make it into the Jeep just before I burst into tears. I collapsed on the steering wheel, my head buried in my arms, and flipped on the car radio.
It was one of the first songs Jay and I had danced to.
Quickly, I turned the channel.
Another love song.
And another.
And another.
I punched the steering wheel and jumped when the horn honked. Now people heading to their cars solo or in pairs or groups glanced over. I managed a half-assed smile and sorry-that-was-an-accident wave.
That’s when I saw Felix sauntering toward me.
I didn’t expect the butterflies dancing in my stomach at the sight of him in his fitted red hoodie, loose jeans, and sexy floppy hair.
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I stared at his lips.
So red and full.
His lips that tasted like the ocean and melted against mine like ice cream warming in the sun.
Oh, God.
You’re thinking about Felix like this.
Snap out of it, Hazel.
He’s coming.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Hide!
I jammed the rearview mirror at an angle I could peer into and quickly fixed my face and hair the best I could. I looked a mess. A shiny-eyed, red-faced mess.
He was getting closer.
We had to talk about our plan.
Make a solid plan. Don’t think about his lips or the way his hands felt on your hips.
We needed a concrete plan, one that involved being seen together for the sake of my Neanderthal ex-BFF and that slimy son of a bitch I actually wanted to marry and father the hypothetical 2.5 kids I’d have starting when I finished grad school at age thirty.
(Yes, I had big plans.)
Just when I thought Felix was about to beeline toward my Jeep, he took a sharp right and opened another car door.
Leaning forward, I couldn’t see whose car it was at first, but then one of his sleazy Barbie chicks hopped out, let him into the driver seat, and in an annoyingly car-model-like move, shimmied (yes, shimmied) over the hood and into the passenger seat.
The engine of her BMW roared to life and I watched, mouth agape. My heart inexplicably shattered for the second time that week as Felix sped out of the parking lot.
Chapter Ten
Felix
Things at that chick’s house did not go according to plan. I needed to center myself. Get back in touch with the Felix I knew. Barbie would put me on the fast track.
Except I was so distracted I had to call it off—what in the world was wrong with me?
But I rationalized it like this: if I was in a fake relationship with Hazel, it had to be believable. I couldn’t exactly be doing the naughty mumbo with all the usual suspects while asking our greater student population to believe I was in an exclusive relationship—or at least a makeout in the caf relationship—with Hazel McAllister two days following her break up with Jay.
Not Okay, Cupid Page 4