The Boyfriend List

by Novelle, R. S.

  Still, there was something so unique about his appearance Reagan found it hard to want to pull away. She ran down the list as her eyes skimmed over him: tanned complexion from an obviously beachy spring break location, good height, muscular build, hair set in loose waves. But ultimately she decided that while all those features were fabulous on their own – and certainly the combination was sure to have more than a few heads turning – that alone wasn’t quite what had drawn her attention.

  She must have been standing there for a while trying to figure it out, and had probably lost her discreet edge, she considered. Maybe he noticed her standing there from the corner of his eye, or maybe he just sensed someone looking intently at him. Whatever it was attributed to, his head began to turn. In her direction. Actually, he was looking directly at her. Their eyes locked. Reagan froze. Not good!

  Spinning around to try to avoid him, she nearly dropped her plate in the process. She recovered it before it crashed to the floor, but her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. Seeking refuge behind another group who was preparing to leave, she used them as a cover to block his view of her, and followed them until she was close to her own table. Quickly and quietly, she slipped into her seat, her mind racing wildly with thoughts and ideas.

  She hadn’t said a word; she couldn’t, so consumed was she by her frantic experience. Not to mention she was wrestling with the inspiring realization that had dawned somewhere between the salad bar and sneaking back into her seat: this guy was not only good-looking, but could quite possibly be plugged into her inner most thoughts where relationships were concerned. She’d never thought that was possible; it was like winning the lotto without realizing you even had the ticket. Reagan felt dazed, like she was walking around in a dream and would wake up at any minute now. Reaching under the table, she pinched her leg and jumped a little at the pain. Nope, she definitely wasn’t dreaming.

  It was no wonder then that Petra thought something had gone horribly wrong, and was growing restless for detailed information.

  “Well?” She was asking expectantly before Reagan could even find her words again.

  But Reagan’s eyes grew wide at another possibility. “Do you think he saw me?”

  Petra glanced quickly behind her friend and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “He’s not looking at me now?”

  Petra rolled her eyes and sighed. “No. Come one, tell me what he looks like.”

  “He’s cute.” She finally admitted, her voice low so he couldn’t hear her. “Really cute actually.” The second statement was an afterthought, more to herself than to her friend as she recalled her surprising visual of the person sitting just behind her. She was so close to him, she considered, and yet he seemed so unreachable to her somehow.

  “Then that’s settled.” Her friend was smiling widely across the table at her. “Problem solved. Go introduce yourself.”

  “Okay.” Reagan nodded in agreement. Yet when she thought about moving, she found herself glued to the seat.

  “What are you doing?” Petra asked after a few seconds when her friend remained motionless. No, not just motionless. Completely frozen in place.

  But all Reagan could do was smile sheepishly and reply, “Working up the nerve.”

  "Well,” It was clear by the tone of her voice that she’d had enough of Reagan’s damsel in distress act for one day, “if you want to meet him then it’s now or never, because your mystery man is walking out the door right now." Petra nodded her head toward the table behind them. The two were simultaneously standing and throwing down a couple of bills each for the tip. “And if you don’t go for it now, I don’t ever want to hear about this, or him, again.”

  With alarm etched into her face, Reagan turned around to see that yes, the guys were in fact disappearing into the crowd. Without a name or any other identifying information to go on, she knew this could very well be her last chance to verify if all her curiosities had been true. Maybe it was the fear that her possible dream guy could slip right through her fingers, or maybe it was something else all together. But whatever it was, Reagan had practically leapt from her seat before realizing she’d even moved. She wasn’t sure what she was planning to do, or even what she was planning on saying once she caught up to them, but she knew she had to try.

  Unable to resist the urge, she paused just for a second as she passed their table, glancing down at the bills that had been left. It was a generous tip, she noted, particularly when compared to that of his friend. Brownie points for him already.

  "Call me later! And I want details!” Petra’s voice faded as Reagan disappeared into the crowd that lingered by the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Reagan practically erupted through the door and into the multitudes that lingered on the red brick sidewalk. Her clumsy exit drew more than a few stares, to which she blushed and did her best to ignore as she looked around for her mystery man. A girl on a mission, she didn’t have time to worry about things like that. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself despite her tendency to worry about things exactly like that.

  She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she’d assumed he would be standing there somewhere, maybe with his back to the door. Though completely out of her character and definitely stretching her comfort zone, she’d figured she could walk right up with some stupid, transparent excuse to talk to him and gauge his interest in getting to know her. If it went well, there was a coffee shop just down the road she sometimes visited. It was a nice place to talk...

  But she was getting ahead of herself, and when she made it to the sidewalk she couldn’t find him anywhere. There was no sign of him, as though he’d already completely disappeared. Deciding there hadn’t been time for him to hop into a cab, get his own car or walk completely out of sight – she hadn’t been that far behind him after all – she looked quickly around, straining her memory for something about him that would be easy to pick out from the gazillions of other people who were apparently out enjoying the day. There had to be something, she just needed to focus...

  His height? Maybe, but there were a lot of tall guys around. His hair? Probably not. And she couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been wearing, so that was out of the question too.

  His eyes? Absolutely, she thought as she felt the familiar fluttering of her nerves telling her she’d hit the bulls-eye spot on. And that was when she realized it - that had been the feature that had kept her so entranced in the restaurant. Those deep, piercing pools of blue were teasing a smile to her lips even now as she replayed over and over in her mind the intense energy that had radiated from them just a few minutes before...

  But she was wasting time now with her daydreams, and having distinctive eyes wasn’t going to do much good in helping her to pick him out from the crowd. It’s not like she could go up to every tall guy with wavy hair to see if their eyes were a perfect match. Though, considering the alternative, it was becoming more and more tempting.

  If she were to be completely honest with herself though, the more she thought this through in a reasonable and calm manner, the more ridiculous the whole thing was becoming to her. Rushing out there, looking to introduce herself to a guy she’d never met had just been an impulsive decision formulated on the basis of a string of very bad days. She realized that now. And if there was something that Reagan was not, it was impulsive. She was the one who triple checked her lists and planned out every detail. She was the one who signed up for her classes and mapped out the most efficient path across campus on the first day of registration. She was in control of her life. Or, at least, she was supposed to be. But somehow that seemed to be changing for her lately.

  Not good Reagan, she lectured herself. Not good. It was time to get herself back together, and she’d have to start right that moment. But just as she was about to give up her search and go back inside to settle her bill with Petra, she caught a familiar form from the corner of her eye. Doing a double take, she peered more intently through the crowd and found her
mystery man standing at the curb, waiting for valet. And suddenly, she found her interest in the plan renewed. Her determination to meet him was practically surging out of her. Though she had no idea where the confidence had come from, she somehow knew she could pull this off, despite the rush of jittering nerves that surged through her body at the possibility of failure. But just as she stepped toward him, the valet guy rushed the car up, swung open the door, and her mystery man disappeared inside.

  That would be her luck, she decided with a definitive nod as she stepped backward into the crowds again.

  “How’d it go?” Reagan jumped, having not seen Petra as she stepped up to her side. “Did you get his number?”

  “No. I lost him.” She admitted regretfully.

  “Fate?” The suggestion was based purely on the knowledge of her friend’s belief in such entities. Petra, on the other hand, was not such a willing doctrinaire, as evidenced in the reluctance found in her voice.

  “Who knows...” Reagan shrugged, resolved in the fact that this was now the end of the road, and she may never meet a guy who upholds the same ideals and standards for a relationship as she does. Petra pushed her lips into a pout on her friend’s behalf, but it quickly turned into a sly smile as she spotted a figure in the distance.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what is.”

  Reagan finally turned in the direction her friend was looking. “What?”

  “That his cute friend is coming over to us right now. You might get your introduction after all.”

  Reagan’s heart fluttered at the thought, but she wasn’t so sure it was as much from sincere desire anymore as it was from apprehension. And she was pretty sure that not being able to distinguish between the two was a bad sign.

  The guy in question of course sauntered up closer to Petra than to Reagan, leaving little room between their bodies. “What’s your name sweetheart?” He started, his awkward attempt at swagger was as apparent in his voice as it was in his stride.

  But Petra took it all in good-naturedly and played along. She told him her name as she took the hand held out to her, and shot a glance over to Reagan who was looking on in sheer aversion. He lifted it to his lips, all the while keeping his gaze intently on Petra’s face as she tried not to giggle. Reagan merely rolled her eyes at the pseudo-romantic gesture as she tried not to hurl.

  “Hey Romeo,” She purposefully interrupted the moment, “your friend looks kinda familiar, where do I know him from?”

  “Who, Brett?” Derek reluctantly broke his gaze with Petra. “Who knows. Brett’s all over the place. The type that keeps schedules and checklists and shit like that.”

  Informative, Reagan thought sarcastically, though she couldn’t deny she and Brett were more alike than she’d thought. But at least she had a name now. And then suddenly another idea hit her, “Oh my god. That’s it!”

  “What’s it?” Petra asked, as she and Derek both turned to look at her as though she’d sprouted another head.

  “I’ve been going about this whole relationship thing completely the wrong way.”

  And that’s when it started. What was meant to be a simple rebound introduction with a cute guy quickly launched Reagan’s new full-scale operation. Little did she know then that her plan would not only rule the entire upcoming week, but possibly change her college life forever.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You see, I’ve been going about this whole relationship thing completely the wrong way.” Reagan started to explain as she unlocked the front door and entered the tastefully decorated apartment that the girls shared. Petra’s parents had refused to let her stay in a dorm, and had gone about selecting housing that was suitable for their princess – it had the perfect amount of space, perfect amenities, perfect location to campus, perfect atmosphere, and perfectly pleasant property managers - which was a rarity in itself near campus. And since Petra’s family had insisted she get a roommate, assumedly so someone would know if she went missing for weeks at a time, Reagan was benefiting from all that perfection at only a fraction of what it really would’ve cost her. There were definitely perks to being friends with Petra, she considered as she walked into the spacious central room.

  “You have?” Petra followed close behind and threw her purse down on the granite kitchen counter before falling lazily into the bistro chair.

  “Yes. I’ve been dating with my emotions, and not with my head.”

  Confusion was evident in every word that Petra spoke. “Isn’t...isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

  “No.” Her lips were drawn in a thin line, and her matter-of-fact tone reflected the seriousness with which she was taking the matter. “And see where it got me?”

  “With a bunch of idiots who don’t know how to be faithful?” Petra was reluctantly willing to play along…for now.

  “Exactly. So,” Opening the cabinet, she reached for a glass. “this time I’m using my head. I’m going to make a list of everything I want in a guy. And unless a guy I’m interested in matches every quality, I’m not going to date him.”

  “Simple as that.” Petra retorted, then fell silent as her friend filled the glass with sparkling water from a clear green bottle.

  “Yep.”

  While there was no doubt this was a much more Reagan-like approach, Petra couldn’t help but to question the validity of the new plan. “So, let me see if I understand. A guy walks up to you, asks you out... and then you whip out a checklist from your purse to go over before you give him your answer?” She made a face that said she didn’t approve. “Really?”

  But Reagan merely looked at Petra as though her version of the idea were absurd. “No!” She exclaimed. “I wouldn’t pull it out right then and there, that’s crazy. But, after the fact, sure.”

  After considering the statement, Petra shook her head. She couldn’t distinguish the real difference - either way her friend was one step away from jumping into the crazy pond. However, while she may have never heard of dating by checklist before, she could tell Reagan needed something feasible to hold on to right now. Something that would make her feel in control again and take the focus off what asshole Justin had done. It certainly wasn’t going to hurt anything really – at least, not that she could tell - so why not join in? “Okay, why not. But we’re going to need margaritas for this.”

  She’d left no room for debate in her statement, and had quickly jumped down from her perch, marched into the kitchen and pulled out a full bottle of tequila from a shelf. Setting it on the counter, she smiled back at Reagan while rummaging around for ice, mix and a blender. “You’re going to feel so good after drinking this,” She began pouring a generous portion of the alcohol into the pitcher, “you won’t even remember why we started this nonsense.”

  And though she’d had her doubts initially, about an hour later Reagan was ready to crown her friend the queen of margarita makers. They were lying on the floor, still bent over the laptop and notepad they’d pulled from their rooms, and exploding with giggles at the crazy suggestions their intoxicated minds were serving up to them. Most of the suggestions got thrown out all together, but enough had stuck out as legitimate that they were actually making some progress, and had developed a fairly solid list of feasible traits.

  As Reagan drained her glass – again - she stood to her feet to pour another refill, leaving Petra to take over at the computer. “A good kisser.” She called out from the other room, and heard the keys clicking away. “He’s got to be a good kisser.”

  “Athletic always helps.” Petra added.

  “And smart. Add that one.” She announced, peeping over the counter ledge to monitor Petra’s progress.

  “That’s boring.” Petra groaned, but dutifully added it to the list. “Okay, whatever. I guess it means he’ll make a lot of money.” Then she smirked up at Reagan. “How about a really big…”

  “Petra!” Reagan raced over to delete the suggestion before Petra could finish, nearly spilling her margarita in the process. “No.” She shook her
head. “How am I going to ask a guy that?”

  Petra shrugged, “I would.” She was still smiling when she finally relented. “So that about does it?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Reagan scanned the page in front of her. “Attractive, athletic, smart, sense of humor, easy going, extrovert, romantic, a good kisser, honest, a good connection, and most important of all- faithful.”

  “Good.” Petra hit the print button and a dozen pages slowly emerged from the machine. “Now let’s learn from your past experiences to see where you went wrong.”

  She plucked a pen from the jar and began scribbling the names of Reagan’s ex-boyfriends at the top of a few. Then she thrust a pen into Reagan’s hand as well. “Here, start marking.” Guy by guy, they created a checklist for each one – though it wasn’t many – and determined what each one possessed and what each one lacked.

  “A good kisser?” Petra inquired.

  Reagan looked at the name. “Not that one.”

  “No? I would have thought for sure.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Reagan smiled ruefully. “Trust me though.”

  “Well, looks like they were all attractive, athletic and an extrovert. One was romantic, two had a sense of humor. But none were easy going, smart, faithful or most obviously had a connection with you.”

  “So basically I’m just going for the cute athletes.”

  Petra scanned the lists. “Yep. Looks about right.”

  “Hmm…good to know. No more of that for me.” Reagan decided. But her thoughts were interrupted by a new text, and suddenly she couldn’t stop smiling...which of course she blamed on the alcohol.

  The sudden change didn’t get past Petra, however, who leaned over Reagan’s shoulder as she tried to sneak a look. “Who’s that?” Petra’s voice was more than suggestive, which automatically put her friend on the defense.

  “No one.” She replied quickly, and tried to hide her screen as she pressed a few keys. But Petra had snatched it from her and raced out of the room before Reagan even knew what had happened. Again, she blamed the alcohol. “Give it back!” She insisted.