The music was loud and a few kids were busy playing pin the tail on the panda in the dining room. They were spinning a blindfolded girl around so fast I was afraid for the safety of Dina’s parents’ good china, but everyone was laughing, including the girl.
I couldn’t see Patrick anywhere, but I recognized a girl from my chemistry class, Erin. “Hey,” I said, trying to peer around my stack of boxes and Tupperware. “Do you know where Dina is?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I just got here. Haven’t seen her.”
“She’s in the kitchen,” said a guy’s voice from the other side of me. I adjusted my snack foods, trying to see who it was—and when I did manage to get a view around the Tupperware, I nearly dropped ten hours worth of baking. His shoulders were broader than when I’d met him at Christmas break. His face had more stubble, but he had that same dopey, clueless grin.
“Damien? What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you again, too.” He laughed. Okay, obviously, he’d caught me by surprise. I hadn’t managed to hide the disdain in my voice. But what did he want me to do after he’d broken my best friend’s heart before running off to the College of Babes and Beer? Hug him?
“Here, give me that.” He took the cheesecake and two other Tupperware containers, leaving me with the box of stuffed animals. “Come on,” he said, clearing a path through the people gathered in the hallway and leading the way to the kitchen.
“Hey, babe,” he said, interrupting Dina, who was filling a basket with panda-ear headbands. She looked extra cute in a shiny black dress, cinched at the waist with a white belt. “Elyse is here with food.” She turned and looked at me. The panda ears she was wearing on her head only added to her look of surprised innocence.
“Elyse,” she said. “Hi. Um. Damien’s here!” Like I hadn’t noticed.
“I brought pandas,” I said flatly, setting the cardboard box down on the kitchen floor. “I don’t know where you want them.”
“Oh. Awesome,” Dina said. “Damien, Elyse brought stuffed pandas.” I was sure he was aware. After all, he was standing right behind me. “Would you mind putting them out?”
“Putting them out where?”
“Just out. Places. Put them places. All around.” She picked up the box, shoving it into his arms. “Thanks. You’re the best.” As soon as he was gone she turned to me. “Okay. I didn’t know he was coming,” she said. “He just . . . showed up.”
“And you let him in?” I said incredulously. “You know, some people would call just showing up and inviting yourself in trespassing. If you want me to tell him to leave, I will. Or I can ask Ron Stevenson and the other guys from the football team to show him the door. If he still won’t go, we’ll call the police.”
“No. Elyse.” She bit at her lip. “I was actually kind of . . . happy to see him.”
“You were what? Are you nuts? Do I need to remind you how he treated you?”
“I know.” Dina opened a Tupperware and started to arrange the pinwheel cookies on a white plate. “But the thing is, I think he’s changed.”
I sighed. Didn’t Dina ever learn? Guys like that never changed. “And what would make you think that?”
“You remember that day when he didn’t text me back for sixteen hours?” How could I forget? “Well, when he finally did write back, and I didn’t answer for two days, he realized something.”
“That he’s a jerk?” I supplied.
“That he missed me,” she said, still focusing on the cookies instead of looking me in the eye. “He apologized, and we’ve been texting ever since.”
“You’ve been what?” I said again. All those text messages that were supposedly from Dina’s newly tech-savvy mother were suddenly making sense. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you hate him,” she answered, fussing with the cookies. “And because you really wanted to set me up with Patrick. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“You mean you don’t like Patrick?” My worries about Damien suddenly took a backseat.
“He’s great, Elyse. Honestly. Such a nice guy. But I just don’t feel that spark with him, you know?”
“I thought you said you could see yourself with him five years from now. You said you had real feelings for him.”
“I was trying to have real feelings for him. I think I just said that stuff to convince myself, because I wanted to feel that way. To make you happy.” I almost laughed out loud. If she only knew how miserable the thought of her and Patrick together had been making me. “Damien really is sorry for how he treated me,” she said, turning away from the cookies to look at me. “You know, I think he just got to college and got overwhelmed by it. All the freedom.”
“And all the girls,” I added sharply.
“Please don’t be mad at him, Elyse,” Dina pleaded. She looked like she was about to cry, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to shake her. I wanted to make her see: She was just setting herself up to get hurt. If this was the choice she was making, she wasn’t going to get a happy ending. Also, I was mad that she’d lied to me. I thought we were good friends—best friends. I thought she trusted me enough to always tell me the truth. “I really appreciate everything you did to try to set me up with Patrick,” Dina said. “I hope he finds the right girl for him, but Damien’s the guy for me. I can’t change that, Elyse, and I don’t want to fight against it anymore. So please. Please don’t be mad.”
I gulped. Then again, I hadn’t exactly been honest with Dina, had I? Plus, what did I know about guys? Here I’d thought Patrick was just like the rest of them, and he’d gone and proven me wrong. What’s to say I wasn’t wrong about Damien, too? For Dina’s sake, I hoped I was.
I stepped toward her and sighed. “How could I be mad at you?” I put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re dressed like a panda bear.” I tweaked her ears. “You’d have to be some kind of monster to be mad at a panda bear. Also, you’re my best friend. Whatever you want—even if it’s Damien—that’s what I want for you.” Her eyes teared up and she launched herself at me, squeezing me tightly.
I hugged her back.
“But, Dina,” I said, pulling away suddenly, realizing things weren’t all good yet, “is Patrick here?”
“He’s upstairs with Jax, rehearsing.”
“Oh no.” I bit at my thumbnail. “He likes you, Dina. I mean really likes you. A lot. You know that song he’s going to sing tonight? In front of everyone? It’s all about you.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she said. “He can’t do that. He’ll be so embarrassed.”
“You’re right,” I said. “He can’t do that. We’ve got to stop him.”
A moment later, the music faded out. A familiar voice started to echo over a microphone. “Check. Check one, two. Can everyone hear me?”
“Oh no,” Dina and I said, both at the same time. We raced toward the living room. The hallway was crowded, though, and by the time we got there, we were too late. Patrick obviously wasn’t one of those musicians who took two hours to do a sound check. He’d already started.
“Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate Valentine’s Day and save the pandas,” he said. “We’re the Duotangs.” There was a smattering of applause. “I’m going to start by singing you a song I really love.” He strummed a chord on his guitar. Even through my panic, I noticed how handsome he looked in an untucked white button-down shirt and black pants. “This is my man Jax on bass,” he said. Everyone clapped again. “And this is Van Morrison’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’”
Dina and I both breathed a sigh of relief as Patrick started to strum the familiar tune. Obviously, he’d chickened out. Maybe he’d seen Dina and Damien together and decided against singing the song he wrote. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter. Everybody who’d ever heard it loved “Brown Eyed Girl.” And even if he was singing about Dina, with her big brown eyes, nobody would ever guess.
Plus, another reason to feel relieved: Patrick was good. Really good. He had not
hing to be embarrassed about. His voice was deep and steady. And when they came to the “sha-la-la-la-la” parts, he and Jax both closed their eyes and gave it everything they had. His curly hair bounced as he dipped his head to pick out the chords on his guitar. The panda ears he was wearing (Dina had obviously gotten to him earlier) looked ridiculous, but somehow that made me adore him even more. I knew he was singing to Dina, but I wished they were my brown eyes he was serenading.
One by one, couples got up to dance, and everyone joined in singing the chorus. Even Dina and I sang as we linked arms and swayed. Then when the song ended everyone went berserk, screaming and clapping.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Patrick and Jax said, waving the applause away. I suddenly wasn’t so worried about Patrick anymore. Even if he was about to get his heart broken by Dina, he’d been right. After hearing him sing, every girl at the party was going to be throwing herself at his feet. He’d need all fifteen of those valentines he’d bought. And—even if I hadn’t already lost it by acting like such a jerk the other night—there’d be no way I’d be holding on to my spot at number twelve.
“I’m glad you liked the warm-up,” Patrick said when the applause had quieted down a bit. “Now I want to take things down a notch and do a little acoustic number.” He strummed his guitar again. “I wrote this one myself.”
“No. No, no!” I yelled, jumping to my feet.
“Elyse. Hey!” he said, smiling and squinting into the stage lights he and Jax had set up.
Everyone was looking at me now. “Hey,” I said lamely, waving to the room in general. “Um, hi.” I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to go ahead with our “extreme songwriting” deal; that he was only going to humiliate himself in front of this entire room full of people, but now, with everyone staring at us, I realized it would be even more humiliating to stop him. It was going to be like watching a train wreck happen, but there was nothing else I could do.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
“Oh. No,” I answered, fumbling for words. “I mean. Yeah. I said snow. Snow. Snow, snow.” I pointed out the front window where, mercifully, big white flakes had started to fall. “It’s romantic, right? All this snow? Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.” I sat back down, feeling like an idiot.
Patrick strummed his guitar again. “Yeah,” he said. “Gotta love that snow. Happens every winter.”
Everyone kind of laughed, which was fine. I deserved it. I sank farther into my chair. Dina grabbed my hand for support.
“Anyway, a friend of mine once told me,” Patrick went on, “that if you like someone, you should tell them in your own words.” He looked directly at me, which only made me feel like more of a loser. “So I wrote this song. It’s for someone who, in just a short time, has become more special to me than I ever could have thought.” He strummed another chord. “Jax here is going to be accompanying me on kazoo and car keys.” Everyone laughed again as Jax held up a set of keys and started to shake them rhythmically. “I call this ‘Number-One Valentine.’” There was a hush in the room as they started to play.
A dozen roses, a dozen tries, a dozen disappointing valentines
You can see she’s feeling sad but you know she’d never say.
She’s waiting for the bus, doesn’t know my name
Wish her brown eyes would look my way.
Yeah, the girl with the glasses is my number-one valentine.
Jax started in on a kazoo solo. Everyone was swaying. A few people were even waving their lit cell phone screens in the darkened room, like you’d do at a concert. But I was frozen to the spot, staring directly at Patrick, who was staring directly at me.
A heart-shaped cookie, a heart-shaped sign, the heart she holds is the one that’s mine
Though she seems so close she’s also far away.
See, she doesn’t believe I’m not the same
Wouldn’t break her heart, wouldn’t go astray.
Yeah, the girl with the glasses is my number-one valentine.
Patrick still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and by now, people had noticed. Everyone who wasn’t fixated on Patrick had turned to look at me. A few of the girls were even making schmoopy eyes and nudging their boyfriends. Some stupid person in the back kept saying, “Awwww. That’s so sweet.” I glanced over my shoulder, trying to silence them with my eyes.
One last try, one last song, one last chance to prove her wrong
Wish I knew the perfect thing to say.
If she turns me down it’ll be a shame
But I’ve gotta take a chance, gotta do it today.
’Cause the girl with the glasses is my number-one valentine.
She’s got the keys to my heart, she’s my number-one valentine.
He strummed three chords, looking deep into my eyes from across the room—as if nobody else were there.
She don’t come by the dozen, she’s my number-one valentine.
When he’d played the last chord, the room fell silent. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was watching him, watching me. Or watching me watching him, waiting to see what we’d do next. Patrick lifted his guitar strap over his head and gently handed the instrument to Jax. He took a single step toward me.
I stood up. “Excuse me,” I said, pushing past a girl, nearly spilling the glass of pop she was holding. “Excuse me,” I said again. I could feel that tears were streaming down my cheeks, but I didn’t have time to wipe them off. “Get out of the way!” I shouted at a guy who didn’t move fast enough. I could feel Patrick’s eyes—everyone’s eyes—still on me and I couldn’t breathe. I just couldn’t breathe. My only thought was that I had to get to the door.
Chapter 18
By the time he reached me I was already fumbling with my keys. “Elyse!” Patrick said. “Wait.”
“No,” I answered, finally getting the car door open.
“Please. Just listen to me for a minute.”
I turned on him. My voice came out shaky and furious. “You’re supposed to like Dina,” I said, tears still running down my face.
“I am?” he said.
“Yes,” I accused. “You bought her favorite valentine with the stupid hat-wearing puppies on it. You helped her with the music for the party as an excuse to get her number. You told me she was pretty. You even asked if she was single.” I pointed toward the living room where he’d just surprised me in front of everyone at the panda party. “So what the hell was that?”
“That was a song I wrote. For you.” Like it wasn’t obvious. Like every single person at the party didn’t know exactly how he felt now. “I thought it would be romantic.”
Romantic? Try overwhelming? Try mind-boggling? Try the rug’s just been pulled out from underneath me and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry kind of shocking? I knew what he’d done was sweet, not to mention brave. I should have been happy, I guessed, and I was, but I was also embarrassed, and confused. I hadn’t had time to sort it all out in my mind yet.
“Jax said he thought any girl would like it,” Patrick tried. Then he sighed, letting his shoulders drop. He rubbed his hand across his forehead as if trying to figure me out was giving him a major headache. “But then again, Jax is nineteen, and he’s never had a girlfriend, so . . . God, I’m sorry, Elyse. I suck at this stuff. I know I told you that one time in the car I’d had tons of girlfriends back in Toronto, but that wasn’t exactly true. More like two. Or, okay, two and a half if you count this girl I shared an ice cream with at summer camp when I was twelve. Plus, I’m totally dense. You already told me that day in the car: You don’t feel the same way I do. I just thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give it one last shot. I’ve been trying to just be your friend, but I haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”
He reached into his back pocket. “And for whatever it’s worth, I got you this.” He passed me an envelope. I took it and tore it open. Inside was my favorite valentine from Goodman’s Gifts & Stationery—the blank card with the red heart on a silver background. I flipped it open. I
nside were the lyrics of the song he’d just sung for me. “I wrote it myself, and it actually rhymes,” he added miserably. “I thought you’d like that.” I looked up at him. The streetlight caught the snowflakes in his hair, making it sparkle. He was so gorgeous, and so sweet, and so clueless all at the same time. “Oh yeah,” he said, misunderstanding my gaze. He reached up and took off his panda ears headband. “And here I am, confessing my love while wearing panda ears. Just add that to my list of smooth moves.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you mean, what am I talking about? Every time I try to do something nice for you, I screw it up.” He started to list things off on his fingers. “I freak you out with a parallel parking lesson, tell you you killed my grandfather’s favorite blossoming Japanese cherry bush, bake you inedible cookies, give you dead flowers, tease you about accidentally shutting off your furnace, scare you half to death by banging garbage can lids together, make you break your phone. . . .” He trailed off. “And, oh yeah, now it turns out I led you to believe I had the hots for your friend, plus I embarrassed you in front of a room full of people. I’m sure you’re just dying to go out with me. Who wouldn’t be? Patrick Connor over here,” he shouted, loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Total catch!” He put his panda ears back on. “Tonight only, comes with dorky panda ears.”
“Shut up,” I said softly.
Did he honestly think that I cared about any of that? Didn’t he realize I’d been so much worse, pushing him away every time he tried to help me; constantly assuming that, just because he was a guy, he was a pig like Matt Love when, really, he was the complete opposite? Didn’t he know how much I wished I could have taken what he was offering—the thoughtful gestures and even the cheesy romantic stuff—without feeling like I was just handing my heart over to be crushed?
Rhymes with Cupid Page 17