The Boyfriend Bracket

by Kate Evangelista

  “What did I tell you?” he said, smug satisfaction in his tone. “Is this just what you need or what?”

  “I have a paper due Monday—”

  “Paper, shmaper.” Cam cut his excuse off. “You’ve been in our dorm for a week. That’s not what being in college is about, bro.”

  “I went to classes and—”

  Cam cut him off again with, “You smell like moldy socks. You need this party. I need this party. Let the player out. I know he’s still in there somewhere.”

  Will resisted the urge to smell himself. Cam didn’t know what he was talking about. He had remembered to shower. He buried himself in school work and the comic because his mind kept wandering into dangerous territory.

  His annoying friend gripped the back of his neck and pulled him close. “When was the last time you got laid?”

  Will shoved him away. “What? You volunteer as tribute?”

  “You’re pretty and all, but you’re not my type.” Cam scanned the crowd. “Seriously, though. We need to find you a girl. Clear the pipes. You’re all tense.”

  Will scanned the crowd once more. Maybe Cam was right. He had been tense all week. Maybe hooking up with someone was exactly what he needed. To bring him clarity. Not only to the Morla situation, but as a way to forget more complicated thoughts. Erasing images of a girl with chin-length hair and a great smile. And how hot she had become in the span of a summer.

  “You know what,” he said, grinning, “you’re right. This party is exactly what I needed.”

  “That’s what I want to hear! Let’s go grab a drink. Then we’ll scope out the selections tonight,” Cam said over his shoulder as he led the way to the kitchen past the living room, where a twerking mass of people gathered.

  Will followed along, already in search of some fun.

  Cam pulled two cups from the stack on top of the keg and stuck the nozzle into the first one. “Foam or no foam?”

  Someone else answered “Foam” as Will shrugged. He didn’t care. Beer was beer. He eyed the bowls of chips on the table. No way was he reaching in. Way too many hands had done so already. He took the cup that Cam handed him and tilted his head toward the back door.

  “I’ll drink this outside,” he said.

  The pool was the best place to scope out potentials anyway. He was several yards away from the house when a touch on his arm stopped his progress. He turned to come face-to-face with a petite brunette with a sweet smile.

  “You’re Will, right?” she asked. “I think we have Intro to Graphic Design together.”

  Will considered her. “Tanya, right?”

  She shook her head, never losing her smile. “Lisa.”

  “Lisa.” He was about to smile back when all the blood in his body froze. His eyes landed on the one person he could pick out of any lineup. Will couldn’t believe his eyes at first. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Had he been thinking about her that much, that she’d actually materialized? But it was impossible. They were three hours away from Oak Hills. And this was a frat party. His blood boiled soon afterward.

  Will was already pissed at the idea of Stella being in a place with booze and God knew what else, but now he could see she was standing by the tiki bar talking to a guy, all up close and personal. One soon to be dead meat. Their heads were so close together that Will thought their foreheads would touch. The fingers of his free hand curled into a tight fist. Then Stella did the worst possible thing: she threw her head back and laughed.

  The caveman in Will didn’t approve, especially when the guy put his hand on Stella’s lower back. With her sweater missing that section, there were definitely no barriers between Dead Meat’s palm and Stella’s smooth, soft skin. He thought of Cam and how he would not approve. Yeah. The bro code. He was going to stop this nonsense for Cam’s sake.

  “Hey, Lisa, can you hold this for me?” He handed her his cup of beer. “I’ll be right back.”

  He left without waiting for her reply. Nana would have killed him for being so rude, but he was on a mission. Stella had her face tilted upward with a flirty look that sent chills down his spine. The guy she was with had one hand against the bar, and the other was still on her waist. There was no doubt what was about to happen.

  Lips in a tight line, Will strode toward them. Stella was unaware of him until he wrapped his hand around her arm. He tugged her away from the guy without saying a word. Stella’s protest died when she recognized him. Her eyes grew wide. The guy stepped forward, but Will shut him down with a menacing glare.

  “You’re coming with me,” Will said, after he was sure the guy wasn’t going to be a hero.

  “What are you doing here?” Stella asked, finally getting her words back.

  “That’s my question.” Will leveled a heavy gaze her way. Stella had the sense to look guilty. “You’re coming with me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  But before Stella could yank her arm out of his grasp, Will hit her with the truth. “If I’m here, then you know who else is here.”

  She went pale. So pale that Will was afraid she was going to pass out. “But Franklin.”

  “Who?” Will scratched his head in confusion.

  “My best friend. We drove here together.” Stella licked her lips. “He’s inside. I’m not leaving here without him.”

  The determination in her eyes did things to Will that he wanted to forget. When she licked those lips? It was impossible not to follow the tip of her tongue with his gaze. He mentally smacked himself. He was here on behalf of the bro code, nothing else.

  With a clearer head, or as clear as he could get it to be without actually physically punching himself, Will ushered Stella toward the side of the house. “You stay here. What does Franklin look like?”

  “Dark hair with a neon streak. Korean.” Then something like aggravation came over Stella’s face. “I can’t believe you don’t remember him. He’s only been my best friend since grade school.”

  “Yeah, well, I bet he didn’t have neon hair back then.” He gritted his teeth. They were running out of time. The longer Stella stayed at the party, the more likely Cam would run into her. And Will didn’t want to stay for that shit show. “Just stay here.”

  He left her in the shadow of the house and plunged back into the party. But about a yard from the house, he ran into Lisa again.

  “Hey, where did you run off to?” she asked, still holding his cup.

  Breathing in, he rubbed his lips. “Lisa, I’m sorry but I have to go. I’ll see you in class?”

  Her smile finally vanished as he sidestepped her.

  Then remembering his task, he turned and said, “You haven’t seen a guy with neon hair walking around here, have you?”

  Will barely managed to dodge the beer flung at him as he ran back into the house. Well, that could have gone better. Plans of hooking up that night were officially off the table. If he knew Stella, she wouldn’t stay hidden for long. He had to find Franklin before her patience ran out and she decided two people looking was better than one.

  FOUR

  EARLY-MORNING MILK SHAKES

  Shaking from the adrenaline pumping through her system, Stella gave the keys to Franklin and asked him to drive. She sat in the passenger seat, looking out into the night in stunned silence, torn between shock at Will’s sudden appearance, frustration at yet another date ruined, and relief at not having to deal with Cam. Thank God Franklin knew her well enough not to ask questions. It was a long drive. A silent one. But when they arrived at Stella’s house well past two a.m., she insisted Franklin sleep over. She couldn’t stand to be alone.

  As they lay side by side, Franklin snoring softly, Stella stared at the ceiling. She was tired, but her brain wouldn’t leave her alone. She turned her head until she caught sight of her digital clock. It was pink. It was fuzzy. And it flashed a large magenta four. In the a.m.

  She pushed aside the comforter and swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was obviously no sleep in sight for her. Too m
uch had happened. She needed to clear her thoughts before she could attempt closing her eyes again.

  So down the stairs she went. At the bottom she turned toward the kitchen and padded all the way to the back door. She grabbed the small camping lamp from the counter and pushed her way outside. Not bothering with slippers, she headed straight for the old tree in the backyard. The damp grass crunching beneath her feet gave her a degree of comfort.

  At the trunk, she looked up at the tree house and the NO GIRLS ALLOWED sign still dangling from the window. It used to be the one place she wasn’t allowed, until her mother had forced Cam and Will to include her in their games. It had been a while since she’d visited. A small smile stretched across her face. Memories of her father building the tree house flooded her. She missed him every day, and she was glad that the tree house was a great reminder of him and his love for them.

  Hooking her arm through the lamp’s handle, she ascended the wooden slats nailed to the tree that acted as the ladder. She climbed through the porthole cut into the floor and carefully eased herself into the corner beside one of the windows. There were two. One on the right, one on the left. She liked the left one because it had the best view of the side of the house, all the way to the street.

  With a flick of her finger, the lamp sputtered to life, giving white illumination to the space. Small shelves housed dusty G.I. Joes with Bumblebee sitting among them. A quilt still covered part of the floor, which Stella didn’t bother sitting on. It needed a good wash.

  So many wonderful memories were made in this tree house. They might have forgotten it over the years, but it still stayed the same. Stella could barely fit in her corner anymore. She placed her elbow on the windowsill, rested her chin on her palm, and sighed. The street and the houses around her were all quiet. Unlike what she felt. When stuff hit her from all sides, it got overwhelming. Like that night.

  When she’d arrived at the frat party with Franklin, the last thing on her mind was Will. She had actually had fun with Joey. He’d listened when she spoke. He’d gotten her drinks. He’d made sure she was comfortable. Attentive and confident. A true contender in the Boyfriend Bracket. And then, out of nowhere, Will came swooping in, interrupting her date. How was she supposed to get over him if he kept popping up during unexpected times?

  “Yoo-hoo,” someone called from below the tree house.

  Stella blinked several times. Her eyes had gone dry. How long had she been staring into the night? It wasn’t light out yet, so maybe not that long? She had no idea.

  She eased to the opening and peered out. Half her lips quirked up at the sight of Franklin in his silk pj’s. In his hands were two giant to-go cups she recognized. They were from her favorite diner. Well, it was the only one in town. And it was open 24-7.

  “Are those what I think they are?” she asked in anticipation.

  “Only one way to find out,” he said, grinning. “Oh, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb thy golden stair.”

  “Ah, handsome prince, sadly I have cut my hair. You must make do with the rickety stairs.”

  Franklin pursed his lips. “At least grab these so I don’t break my neck on the way up?”

  She reached down and eagerly received the to-go cups. As she scooted back into her corner, Franklin’s head popped into the tree house. He heaved himself up and plopped beside her.

  “I’m not doubting your father’s craftsmanship or anything, but for the sake of my neurosis, I have to ask: Are we safe in this thing?” He pointed at the cup in Stella’s right hand.

  She offered it to him and said, “We’re safe. This house can hold up to six kids without buckling.”

  “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

  “We’ll be fine.” She took a sip from her cup, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Yum!”

  “Double-chocolate milk shake,” Franklin said as he took a sip from his own cup. “The cure-all for everything that ails you.”

  “Do you remember the time I caught the worst cold in history?” Stella asked, eyes shining.

  Franklin grimaced. “A runny nose is never a good look on anyone.”

  “And you brought me milk shakes every afternoon after school?”

  “Cured you right up.”

  “Thank you,” she said between sips.

  “Why do I have a feeling you’re not thanking me for long-ago milk shakes?”

  “Let’s make it a blanket appreciation.”

  There was a pause while they focused on polishing off their milk shakes. Then Franklin finally broke the silence with, “Are you ready to talk about it?”

  She swallowed and sighed. “I’m sorry that we had to leave the party early. I knew you were out with that guy you liked.”

  He waved away her apology. “Don’t. There’s nothing you have to be sorry for. Cam was there.”

  “Of all the parties, he would have to pick that one to attend. Just my luck!”

  “We both know you’re not upset over Cam being there.” He looked her in the eye.

  She played with the straw in her cup. “I was really having fun, you know?”

  “With Joey!” His eyes grew wide. “I knew he’d be a gem.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, then frowned. “But Will—”

  “No.” Franklin stopped her before she could say anything she would regret. “Don’t go down that road. He may have saved you from Cam finding out, but he did get in the way of you and Joey. He could have just said you should leave without scaring Joey away.”

  She nodded, seeing his logic. “Do you think Joey’s a lost cause?”

  “Are you saying he’s officially in the next round? I mean, I know we already voted him through, but after the party he’s officially in in?”

  Pushing away all thoughts of Will, Stella gave herself fully to the process of finding herself a boyfriend. “Yeah. And add another heart to his score. He’s more charming than you initially gave him credit for. Sweet too.”

  “Then he gets an extra smiley face too for his gallant efforts.”

  They laughed.

  Milk shakes and best friends. What more could Stella ask for?

  * * *

  EARLY SUNDAY MORNING, Will drove out to the Valley View Flea Market. It was his favorite weekend hangout to score vintage comic books and merch. He was hoping to find some inspiration. A solution to his Morla problem still eluded him, and he was afraid if he didn’t find one soon, his readers would hunt him down. Despite the comic being anonymous, he knew there were creative and determined people out there who might actually find him.

  With the pressure mounting, he parked the truck at the open area designated for cars—a dusty field, mostly. He hopped out of the cab and stretched. The colorful sign above the entrance called to him like a siren. He had some money to burn.

  He walked through the archway announcing the name of the market to all who entered. The open area space was divided by long tables and tents. All the vendors had their own piece of the property where they laid out their wares. Makeshift avenues were created. Will didn’t know how the stalls were assigned, but there was an organized chaos that he liked. The buzz in the air from haggling and people browsing sang in his blood. Waking him up. He had a good feeling about this.

  Relaxed, he ambled from stall to stall. His fingers went through boxes and boxes of comics, all still in their plastic. He loved the musty sweet smell that came with rummaging through aging paper. By lunchtime, his exhaustive search bore fruit in the form of a first edition Sandman. Signed!

  He had a wide grin on his face as he strolled toward the food trucks. On his way, his eye landed on a familiar figure. Then his ears latched onto the only voice that haunted his dreams at night. He paused. How could he not? Then he turned toward the stall where she stood in jeans and a pink sweater sporting a white bow at the back, haggling with a woman holding up blue fabric with shiny beads on it.

  Her name was on the tip of his tongue. He hesitated. If he walked away, she wouldn
’t know that he had been there. It was that easy. And, anyway, he’d gotten what he had come for. But there was still half the flea market to explore. What were the chances of running into each other if he walked away and minded his own business?

  Apparently he had been standing there like a dolt for longer than it took to find an answer to his dilemma, because Stella turned around with a wrapped brown parcel in her hands, which he assumed was the cloth she had been haggling for. The wide smile of triumph on her face made his heart sing. But the moment she saw him, that smile dimmed. It was like a punch in the gut.

  “H-hey, Slappy,” he said, giving her a small wave. He swallowed and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “Will,” she breathed out.

  In his head, he was like, “Surprise!” in the most unsure tone possible. Instead he smiled. Unfortunately, his lips wobbled. What to do? What to say? Hell, if he had an idea.

  Stella broke the silence between them by asking, “What’d you get?”

  He raised the comic in his hand. “First edition Sandman. It’s signed by Neil Gaiman.” Okay, he couldn’t help himself. He sounded a little giddy.

  “Oh.” She looked uneasy. He hated that.

  “What about you?” He pointed at her parcel.

  She hugged it closer to her chest like a beloved teddy bear. “Fabric for my homecoming dress.”

  “Is it homecoming already?” Dread ran down Will’s spine.

  “Not for a few more weeks. I still have time to put the dress together.” When she shook her head, her hair moved like she was one of those women in a shampoo commercial.

  Will had to create a fist to stop himself from reaching out and running his fingers through the strands. He already knew they would be soft. But she would freak. She would definitely freak.