“You are such a great soccer player, Brandon,” I said, making sure to project my voice. “Best on the team.” Take that, Marc.
Brandon’s eyebrows furrowed, probably because my volume had tripled, but he took the compliment anyway and proceeded to tell me more about his best soccer plays.
It was like I’d accidentally left ESPN on and the commentator was droning on and on about games I had no interest in, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at me. The glassy eyes were gone. Anyone watching would see a girl totally enraptured by her date’s stories. I threw in some gasps and no ways, a few hearty laughs where I even tossed my head back for added effect, and kept my gaze locked on Brandon’s. Marc was probably ready to explode.
I couldn’t help it—I had to sneak another look to see.
I felt myself deflate. His focus was 100 percent on Lissi.
No, Marc was not going to win this. He was probably trying to make me jealous—well, the joke was on him. It wasn’t going to work; I was going to be the one to come out ahead. I just needed to up my game.
“I am having such an amazing time,” I said loud enough that I was sure to catch Marc’s attention again. “Greatest. Date. Ever. Right?”
Brandon didn’t answer. He was looking at me a little confused, but it didn’t matter; Marc couldn’t see his expression. Brandon’s back was to him. Marc could only see my face, and as far as he knew, my date was fully enchanted.
“I’m so glad you agree,” I answered for Brandon, but solely for Marc’s benefit.
Then I took it a step further. I grabbed a fry, reached over, and tried to feed it to my date. In my head it was a sweet, romantic, Lady and the Tramp moment, but the reality fell short. Quite short.
Brandon was looking at me like I had lost it—his mouth had literally dropped open like he was trying to form words but couldn’t—but that didn’t stop me. Of course not. It was like I was on autopilot. I reached over and touched his arm. “So strong,” I said. “I like it. I’ve never dated anyone as strong as you.”
I was laying it on thick. Too thick, even for someone as ego-driven as Brandon, I realized just a smidge too late.
“What’s gotten into you?” Brandon asked, pulling his arm away.
“Nothing.” But when I said it, I must have glanced back at Marc, because Brandon followed my gaze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “Is this some sort of game? Did you plan this? Did you know he was going to be here?”
I pulled my sweater slightly away from my chest. My whole body was overheating. I really hoped Marc wasn’t watching this part. “No, you picked the place, remember? I didn’t know. It’s just a coincidence.”
He shook his head. “This whole date you were just trying to make Marc jealous.”
“I wasn’t. Honest. I liked hearing your soccer stories.” That part was a lie, but I was in a sinking ship here. “He just caught me off guard, but I’m having fun. Let’s not ruin it. Are you a FIFA fan?”
“What?”
It was my last-ditch effort to get Brandon talking again, so I could try and save face in front of my ex. Marc was obsessed with the World Cup. Last year I’d spent the majority of my June and July watching the soccer championship. Chances were good that Brandon was a fan, too, and I needed him to stick around. I couldn’t have Marc see my date implode; I wanted to make him jealous, not justified in his decision to dump me.
I picked up a mozzarella stick. “I was just thinking how much I love FIFA and figured you must, too.”
Brandon nodded. “I do.”
Maybe this would work—he was starting to talk again. I just needed to keep the conversation on soccer.
“I hate that it’s only once every four years. They should totally make it two, right?” I asked. It’d been something Marc used to say all the time.
“Yeah, I’d be all for it—seriously, Cam?”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re still looking over at him.”
I hadn’t even realized I was doing it again.
“I’m not,” I said, dropping the rest of my mozzarella stick onto my plate and wiping my hands with a napkin. I’d unintentionally squeezed the life out of it, and oil and cheese dripped all over me. “I didn’t mean to.” I was worse than a moth to a flame. I’d just wanted to know if Marc was watching me. I hadn’t meant to make the evening go up in smoke.
“You know”—Brandon took out some money and dropped it on the table—“some of the guys warned me not to go for Gerber’s ex, but I…” He threw up his hands. “I’m just going to go.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”
He stood up and shook his head, “That’s … it’s … I don’t want…” He didn’t even finish the sentence. “Good night.”
I wanted to beg him to stay, to not do this to me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t make another pathetic scene inside the diner. Especially not with Marc and Lissi there. I watched as Brandon walked away from me. This time there was no Avery to save me. This couldn’t be happening again.
I refused to be the girl who got ditched at Scobell’s twice. I needed a cover. I needed to do something. I grabbed my phone and pretended to talk into it. I waved to Brandon as he reached the door. “I’ll be right there, just need to finish this call,” I yelled out.
There was a good chance that Brandon thought I was insane, but I didn’t care. I was not going to let Marc see me get ditched.
I pretended to chat for a minute; then I put my share of the bill on the table and got up.
I refused to look at Marc and Lissi. The irony was not lost on me that, had I done that earlier, I’d still be on a date at that very moment.
Instead I put on a smile, held my head high, and left the diner.
I was never coming back here again. I got dumped every time.
Except that tonight, I had no one to blame but myself.
Chapter 15
I parked the car in my driveway and texted Grace and Terri what had happened.
Moments later the phone rang. It was Terri. “Hang on,” she said, “conferencing Grace in. This is way more than a text conversation.”
“Cam?” Grace asked once she was added on. “Sounds like it was awful. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, the Marc-and-Lissi part of it sucked. But I can’t say Brandon was a big loss.”
“You mean he wasn’t ‘the one’?” Terri asked.
“Ha-ha.” I leaned back against the headrest. Much to my disappointment, he really wasn’t. Even if the whole Marc-walking-into-Scobell’s thing hadn’t happened and made me ruin the night, I still wouldn’t have wanted Brandon. He had been all about soccer, and I’d already had more than enough of that to last me a lifetime. “He didn’t even ask me any questions about myself.” I guess I should have expected it. Our texts and emails had been pretty one-sided, too, but I’d credited that to the article I was working on. Of course he’d talked about himself then—I was doing a piece on him. I’d just thought that once that was out of the way, he’d be curious about me and ask questions about my interests. Or at least talk about something that didn’t relate to soccer or himself.
“Anyway, enough about me. How are your nights?” I was done thinking about my evening. I wanted to hear what they were up to.
“Not as eventful as yours,” Terri said.
“Definitely not,” Grace agreed. “I’m just going over my Brown application.”
“And I’m going to a movie with Steve in a little bit.”
“The guy from the art store?” I asked.
“No, Steve Booker, from my study hall.”
I needed a diagram to keep track of her social life. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“She’s the master,” Grace said.
That was the truth. “Teach me your ways, Obi-Wan.”
“Huh?” Terri asked. “Is that your way of asking me for help? Because if it is, I’m ready for the challenge. Ooh,” she purred. “I have an idea.” Her tone made
me nervous. I could almost picture her tapping her fingers together maniacally.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. “This is going to be good. Whatever it is, count me in. I want to see this,” Grace said.
I hadn’t been serious when I’d asked for help, but I clearly needed it. I’d bombed on my own. I was just a little nervous about what Terri’s tactics might be to help me find a guy. “What do you have in mind?”
Terri laughed. “Don’t sound so scared. I’ll take it easy on you. We’ll start small. We’ll go to the mall.”
“The mall?” I asked.
“Yes, the mall,” she answered. “The place is always crawling with cute guys, and not just ones from our school, but ones from the surrounding towns, too. I’ve met a bunch of people there.”
“Smart,” Grace said. “We should go tomorrow. Three o’clock?”
“Done,” Terri agreed. “I’ll pick you both up.”
They spoke like I wasn’t even part of the conversation. “Hey, don’t I get a say?”
“No,” Terri said. “After tonight, I think it’s best that you leave everything to Grace and me.”
She had a point.
“You guys are the best.”
“We know,” Terri said.
“Do you need some company?” Grace asked.
“No, you need to finish your application.” I knew she wanted to get it done this weekend, and she was already taking time off tomorrow to come to the mall with me. Grace had been dreaming about going to Brown University almost as long as I’d been dreaming of living in New York. She was applying early decision, and while she still had plenty of time to get the application in, she was not one to wait around. “I have a few more pages left in my book, and I want to watch a movie.”
“Let me guess,” Terri said, “a rom-com?”
“You know it,” I told her.
“Well,” Grace said, “you can watch someone else get the guy tonight, but tomorrow we’ll get you one of your own.”
I smiled as we said our goodbyes. I really liked the sound of that!
Chapter 16
I laughed to myself as I headed up my walkway. My disaster of a date was going to make quite the lunchtime story. I couldn’t wait to tell Avery, Nikki, and the rest of my cafeteria crew. It was strange—despite everything that had gone on tonight at Scobell’s, I felt surprisingly good. I owed that to Grace and Terri. They always knew how to cheer me up. I wished I could do something for them in return.
Crap. That reminded me: I still needed to come up with a way to make Terri’s family see that she belonged in art school. I just wasn’t sure how to do it.
“Who is it?” my sister yelled as I fumbled with the lock.
I stepped inside. “It’s me.”
“Oh,” Jemma said, relaxing back into the couch. “Mom and Dad went out. Why are you back so early? Must have been some date.”
How did she even know I’d had one? I shook my head. She had to have been snooping again. I stole her bowl of popcorn and fell into the seat next to her.
She snatched it back.
“Why are you home?” I deflected. “Even Mom and Dad are doing something, and you’re sitting here watching TV.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You mean like you are right now?”
“At least I had plans.” I tried to grab the remote from her, but she clutched it like she was Gollum in The Lord of the Rings.
“I could have plans if I wanted to,” she said. “I like being alone. Unlike some people in this room, I don’t need to have twenty-four-hour supervision to be happy. Did you get Grace and Terri surgically removed from your hip? You know they’ll just grow back in a second.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Are you going to go see them now?”
“No, I’m going to sit here and bug you.” I was about to add something snarky, but I saw her fight a smile. Then she passed the popcorn bowl to me.
Jemma wanted me there.
“So you really just wanted to stay home?” I asked.
She bit her cheek. “No.”
I turned to face her. “What is it?”
“I’m not out because all my friends are at Dave’s party,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“Marc’s brother Dave?” He was a year ahead of Jemma at school.
She nodded.
“And you weren’t invited?” I was angry. I couldn’t believe he’d include all of Jemma’s friends and leave her out. Worse, that her friends were okay with it. Grace and Terri never would have ditched me.
“No.” She shook her head. “I was invited.”
I felt a wave of guilt and love wash over me. She’d skipped the party because of me. “Jemma, you could have gone.”
“I didn’t want to be at the Gerbers’ house. Not after what he did to you. I unfriended all of them,” she said. I’d gotten rid of Marc on my social media accounts, too, but even I hadn’t gotten rid of his brother.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the look of determination on her face. It struck me, kind of all at once, how sweet it was that Jemma cared so much.
I moved closer to her and put my arm around her. “It’s not Dave’s fault, and I’m okay with you being friends with him. I don’t want you missing out on anything else because of me, okay?”
Her mouth twisted, like she was trying to determine if I was telling the truth.
“Promise me,” I said.
“Okay, fine.”
“Good.” Sitting there, I realized just how much I was going to miss her nosy, overdramatic, know-it-all self when I went to college next year.
I had a feeling she was going to miss me, too. I was definitely going to make an effort to spend more time with her, starting now. In a sneak attack, I grabbed the remote from her. Just because I was going to hang out didn’t mean I was going to let her pick the show.
“Hey!” she yelled, tackling me in an attempt to get it back, sending the popcorn falling.
“You’re cleaning that,” I told her.
“No way,” she objected, laughing as I reached the remote over my head. “Give it back. The Real Housewives is about to start.”
I groaned. “No.” I was not a reality-TV fan. “It’s on all the time.”
“Yeah, but they’re about to go to an art show, and it’s supposed to be ‘explosive,’” she said, quoting the promos. “I can’t miss that.”
Jemma lunged again and got the remote from me, holding it up in victory. “I win!”
But I wasn’t thinking about TV anymore. I’d figured out what to do for Terri. “Jemma, you are a genius.” I took her head in my hands and kissed the top of it.
“Huh? I mean, yeah, but what are you talking about?”
“You gave me an idea to help Terri. I’m going to throw her an art show.”
“Whatever,” Jemma said, and turned up the volume on the TV.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this sooner. Terri’s parents needed to see all her work laid out at once. Sure, they saw her sketching, and a piece when she finished it, but maybe they needed more than that. Maybe they needed a gallery.
With Grace’s and Luke’s help, I could pull this off. I could already envision the gallery space in my mind. We’d make it epic. I shot Grace and Luke a text, then settled back down next to Jemma on the couch.
Chapter 17
Grace played with the straw in her Frappuccino and stared into nothingness as we sat in the mall’s food court ready to map out our get-me-a-guy plan.
“Okay.” I waved my hands in front of her face. “What is going on with you? You were barely there in the car, and now it’s even worse.”
“Sorry,” she said, giving me a clearly fake smile. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” Terri said.
Grace threw her head back. “It’s stupid. Let’s just focus on Cam and figure out where we go first. There’s a group of guys by the Sbarro—you should be able to infiltrate that group, right? Get Cam an introduction?”
“No,
no, no, no, no,” I said. My love life could wait. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one with drama in my life. Grace seemed to be swamped in it. “Okay,” I prompted her, reaching for my charm bracelet before remembering it was no longer there, “talk. I want to know what’s going on.”
“It’s just volleyball,” she said. “Coach is letting Lissi play in the next game. He didn’t even tell me. I only found out because Crystal texted me an hour ago. Lissi told her.”
The name alone made my skin crawl. “How?” I asked. “I thought he was super strict about the rules.”
“He found a loophole. Maddy Warmack said she’d be the team manager so that Lissi could take her spot and play.”
I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t Lissi I was angry at; she hadn’t done anything other than go on a date with Marc. There’d probably be a lot of girls who’d be hanging out with my ex, and hating them all didn’t seem like a good use of time. I wouldn’t tell Grace, but the truth was I wasn’t quite sure what was so horrible about Lissi wanting to play on the team. It must have sucked moving right before the start of senior year. It was bad enough she was going to have to make all new friends, but to go from being the star of her old team to not even having a team? That blew. I didn’t blame her for wanting to play. I’d want to.
“Maddy never gets game time anyway,” I offered up as a consolation. “It won’t be that different for her.”
“Exactly,” Grace explained. “For her. It’s the rest of us that are screwed. Lissi’s not going to be a benchwarmer, so while she is technically taking Maddy’s spot, in reality she’s going to be pushing aside people who normally get to play. It’ll mean less time on the court for players like me.”
“That’s crap,” Terri said.
“Seriously.” Grace squeezed her eyes shut. “I played up turning the team around and how the court was my home away from home in one of my college essays. That won’t look so impressive if I barely even get to play my last year.”
I squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry. It sucks, but I’m positive you have nothing to worry about. There’s no way Coach is pulling you out of rotation. You’re the star. The team would be nothing without you. I’ll bet you whatever—all the ice cream you can eat, no snide remarks about whatever Halloween costume you choose for us to wear, homework for the rest of the year, whatever—that you’ll have just as much game time.”
Finding Mr. Better-Than-You Page 9