The Boyfriend List

by Novelle, R. S.

  “I’ll just go sit over there,” She started walking toward the bleachers behind her, “and talk to you one by one I guess.” And as the first player strolled confidently over to her, ready for her expert line of questioning, she began to wonder what she’d gotten herself into. She wasn’t a reporter, had barely passed her English final last term and rarely picked up a paper. She was in absolutely no way qualified to take on this task.

  Reagan smiled awkwardly at him as she fumbled with pad and pen, but he offered little in return. “So, I guess I’m supposed to ask you questions. Right?”

  “Yeah, that’s usually how this works.” His smug expression and audible impatience told her this wasn’t the first time he’d been interviewed by the press. Though Reagan would’ve liked nothing more at the moment than to slap the expression off his face, she knew it wouldn’t get her very far, and certainly wouldn’t get her closer to Brett.

  Setting her jaw in grim determination, and putting the idea on the backburner for another day, she did her best to proceed unfazed. “Right. Um, how long have you been playing for?”

  “All my life. Since I was six.”

  “And...do you like playing soccer?”

  “Well sure. That’s why I’m out there.” His brow pinched together slightly as skepticism set in.

  “Okay. Do you make many points?” Reagan was doing her best not to make eye contact as she fumbled her way through the questions. She could feel him analyzing her, and hoped he wouldn’t call her out on her charade.

  “I’m the goalie.”

  The slow, flat tone he used caused Reagan’s head to pop up in concern. She wasn’t entirely sure exactly all that being a goalie consisted of, but she was pretty sure she’d just made a big mistake. “So... that’s a no?”

  “Is this interview for real, or am I being Punk’d right now?”

  A nervous laugh escaped her throat, and she decided his answer was definitely a no. “God, I wish you were.”

  “We done here?”

  She nodded in defeat though the goalie had already stood and began walking away, not waiting for her acknowledgement. Please let this be over soon...The next couple of interviews were an equally confusing mess, but by the time the fourth guy came her way, she felt like a pro. If people did this for a living she was seriously considering pursuing the option. What a shame she wasn’t really writing the story she’d said she was, it probably wouldn’t have been half bad.

  After sending her fourth interviewee away, she nodded to the coach to call up the next one.

  “Brett Hanson!” His voice was loud enough for the entire school to hear him, and certainly the name didn’t get past Reagan. Her heart stopped in her chest, and when it began again, it was racing at triple the speed in borderline panic mode.

  Brett Hanson was actually here. The Brett Hanson was jogging up to her right this very second. They were about to be face to face for the first time. She’d get to talk to him. She’d get to ask him anything she wanted. Well, within reason that is. But her mind drew a blank. She’d never considered actually talking to him as an option yet. What was she supposed to be thinking right now? What would he be thinking when he saw her? Would there be chemistry? Would he remember her from the restaurant? Would she have to play this inexperienced reporter for as long as she knew him?

  It occurred to Reagan in her frantic, high-speed line of questions that she was treating him like a celebrity, when in fact he was actually just an average college student, just like she was. She couldn’t help it though. Her expectations of an ideal were set so high, she was afraid they’d crash down around her in disillusionment if he turned out to be an asshole in reality. And the anticipation of that discovery was virtually killing her.

  Despite the fact that her mock interview was set up on the pretense of a lie, and that his first impression of her would be built on that lie, Reagan was surprised to find how quickly her panic had turned to excitement as her mind flipped through all those possibilities.

  That is, until she saw Brett wasn’t the only one approaching the coach at the moment.

  The administrative looking woman had stalked onto the field, furious energy swelling all around her. And following dutifully right behind her was a frumpy looking girl with a laptop bag in one hand and a large black camera in the other.

  “Then who is she?” She could hear the coach saying. This, apparently, was the real reporter. And Reagan was about to be discovered for her fraud. Her heart began racing again, and this time it was for more unpleasant reasons. But by the time all three of them had turned in her direction, scowls perched on their faces, Reagan had managed to duck out of sight.

  From her hiding spot under the bleachers, she watched the little search party out of the corner of her eye and decided she couldn’t stay where she was for long. She couldn’t imagine there’d be too many consequences – what, in all honesty, could they actually do about her lie - but she wasn’t willing to stick around and find out. The mortification would be punishment enough. Waiting until the three had come around the bend, she made a dash in the opposite direction out of their sight, back toward the double doors that would lead off the field.

  Please don’t trip, please don’t trip, please don’t trip. The mantra seemed to work, and Reagan had never run so fast or so hard in her life. But it only confirmed that it wouldn’t kill her to get back into the gym and bump up her cardio. That was a skill that could’ve come in very handy in those moments.

  The door was shut tightly behind her as she entered the gym, yet she knew she didn’t have too long to get out of there before they found her. Recovery only took a short minute, thankfully. But as she turned to maneuver her way through the maze of hallways, she felt a dull pain smack her upside the forehead. Falling backwards through the air, her butt hit the gym floor hard before she’d even realized what’d happened.

  “What the...” Was the stunned cry of complaint that followed as she stared at the door that had attacked her for no apparent reason.

  “Sorry, my bad.” The apologetic voice was good-natured, if somewhat tentative. Rubbing her forehead, Reagan looked up to see who her assaulter was and found herself completely speechless. “I didn’t know anyone was on the other side. You alright?” The attacker reached out his hand to help her up, but Reagan was having a hard time finding the concentration to accept it.

  Ohmygod! She was exclaiming to herself. OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod... Because of course, she was looking at none other than Brett Hanson himself. And of course, there was absolutely no place for her to hide this time. When did he even have time to get in here?

  “Yeah. Thanks. I’m fine.” She finally stammered, and took the hand he offered her. There was no magic in that initial touch, no spark of karmic electricity as she’d imagined. But she’d give herself a break considering the circumstances. And if she’d sounded somewhat annoyed, it was merely due to the fact that when she met Brett for the first time – well, the first time officially – she’d wanted it to be a moment of magic, when she was at her best and hopeful for the best outcome. Not when she had an egg growing on her forehead and she’d been knocked to the ground.

  “You new here? I haven’t seen you before.”

  It occurred to her that her hand was lingering inside of his for longer than was necessary to get to her feet, and that she was beginning to sweat from excitement and nerves. Snatching her hand quickly away again, she rubbed her palm against her shorts, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

  “Um, yeah?” She tried, hoping it sounded more convincing than her story about being a journalist. Clearly he hadn’t gotten a good look at her on the field. For that, at least, she could be thankful.

  “Cool, welcome.” He nodded enthusiastically. “We usually try not to injure the new people until they’ve been around a while, but in your case…”

  Reagan couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped.

  “Well, hey, since you’re sure you’re okay, let me show you to the girls locker room.”

 
“Oh, yeah, that might be good.”

  She let him point her in the right direction, and slipped quickly inside. Then, after waiting a few minutes to give Brett enough time to leave again, then slipped right back out, not stopping this time until she was cleared from the building and standing on the sidewalk.

  Now the question on the table was, where did she go from here? The initial meeting was already over. He hadn’t asked for her number or left it open for future discussions, so it was hard to tell the kind of impression that she left. But she had discovered he was considerate, and even a little witty. At least, he’d tried to be, which was kind of adorable.

  Immediately, Reagan picked up her phone to call Ian and fill him in on the details.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When Ian got the call from Reagan, he’d been rummaging around the little antique bookstore for at least a half an hour. His mother was a difficult woman to impress, he mused to himself, but a first edition by one of her favorite obscure authors usually did the trick on her birthday. Picking up a fragile binding, he flipped gently through pages ripe with historical significance.

  Having instinctively switched his phone to silent when he walked in the store, he could feel it vibrating in his back pocket as Reagan’s call came through.

  Carefully replacing the volume back onto the shelf in its given slot, he withdrew his phone and smiled at the name on the id.

  “Sexy!”

  Reagan tried to stop her lips from turning up at his greeting, but they weren’t cooperating very well. “Busy?” She inquired, almost forgetting why she’d called in the first place.

  “Tryin’ to be,” he admitted, “but beautiful women keep calling and interrupting me. How’s it all going?”

  Suddenly Reagan’s lips felt like cooperating after all, and immediately drooped into a frown. Women, in the plural form, was not what she wanted to hear. Though she couldn’t figure out why it’d surprised her, or why at the very sound of the phrase she felt a tingling of irritation run up her spine when he’d said it teasingly at least a hundred times before. It was an expression, she reminded herself firmly, and Ian was a single man. He was perfectly entitled to have every beautiful woman in the world call him if he wanted them to. But that thought was irking her even more, and it didn’t seem to want to go away.

  She must’ve been dwelling in her dark thoughts longer than she’d realized – Ian’s voice abruptly brought her back to the present moment.

  “Rae? You there?”

  Reagan shuddered, and returned her focus to the call. Now she was having a hard time remembering why she’d called him to begin with. “Sorry. How’s what going?”

  “You’re private investigation.” He was laughing to himself as he spoke, she realized, and she wondered if it was because of her suddenly scatterbrained focus, or the idea of her investigation. Or both...Probably both, she shrugged.

  “How’d you know what I was doing?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Petra tattled again, didn’t she?”

  “Yep.” She could practically hear him smirking through the phone.

  “Well, you and Petra might be surprised to hear that it went very well.” She couldn’t help but to sound pleased with herself. And she hoped it pissed him the hell off, just to get back at him for his snarky women comment.

  From the sound of his tone, it appeared her tactic had worked. The surprised disappointment couldn’t be masked. “Really?”

  “Yes really.” It was then that she realized she was enjoying this moment far too much.

  “Let’s hear it then.”

  Deciding to omit the full, somewhat humiliating details, Reagan launched into her brief summary instead. “His last name is Hanson. He’s a star on the soccer team. About six feet it looks like. Polite I think. Smart enough to earn a scholarship.” She paused while calculating her information. “And that’s about all I got.” Laid out and simplified like that, she realized it didn’t sound like she’d made as much progress as she’d initially thought. Suddenly, she wasn’t so enthusiastic about her finding that day.

  “Yeah, sounds like you learned a lot there.” Was that the sound of relief behind his sarcasm?

  “Guess not.” She was forced to admit out loud. “But that’s where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” She reiterated firmly. “You know everyone on campus. Can’t you ask around for me? Find out something I’m missing. Something substantial that has more to do about his character than just his looks and hobbies.”

  But there was a lengthy pause in the conversation that Reagan hadn’t anticipated, and it was giving her stomach the jitters again for reasons she couldn’t hope to explain.

  “Reagan, what’s your deal with this guy? Why can’t you just ask him to go for a drink and see where it leads? Go for a coffee. Help you study. Something. Anything. This thing you two have concocted is just crazy.”

  “Because...” Rejection was still prominent in her voice as she mumbled her answer. “I’m not ready yet. And guys lie about themselves all the time.”

  “Got it.” Ian sighed. It wasn’t how he would do things. But this was Reagan, he reminded himself, and she did everything just a little bit differently. “Okay, let me make some calls and see what I can find.”

  “Really?” Excited hopefulness filled her voice again.

  “Yes really. But only for you because I lo...” Ian caught himself just in time before the word spilled out. Grimacing at his mistake, he bit his lip and hoped she hadn’t caught it. “I’ll call you back.” He finished quickly.

  But Reagan had caught it. At least, she thought she’d caught something that she was pretty sure had sounded a lot like the word love, had he not stopped himself first. It surprised her more than anything. Ian had never used that word, not in reference to her or anyone else that she could remember. It just wasn’t a word that was fluent in his vocabulary. She opened her mouth to question him about it, tease him a little, but something about the moment made her decide against it. Closing her mouth again, she smiled wide instead, enjoying the moment a little more than she felt she had a reason to. Ian Scott had just almost confessed to loving her. Whichever version of love it might be, she’d take it. At least she’d have one up over the plethora of perfect girls that came and went from his life in that regard.

  After thanking him again, she gave her phone a satisfied tap to end the call. Still rolling Ian’s almost comment around in her head, that irritated tingling she’d felt only moments before was slowly starting to slip away.

  Now what to do while she waited was a question that needed sorting out.

  The easiest thing to do would be to go home, be productive and wait for fate to figure out the rest. After all, if it were mean to be, she’d get the answer she was looking for eventually. But after a quick scan of the tidy row of shops around her, she quickly changed her mind. Something had caught her eye that she wanted to get a little closer to.

  No, not just something, she corrected herself. It was an elaborately woven, red beaded dress hanging from the mannequin in all its Gatsby-era glory. And it was screaming her name, demanding that she instantly come and take a closer look. It would be the perfect fit for Petra’s black-tie birthday party, which was looming only a few days away, and Reagan had nothing – absolutely nothing – in her closet worthy of the occasion. She needed something special. Something that would make her feel both sexy and sophisticated. Something that no one else would be wearing.

  Something exactly like this...

  Never one to disappoint a screaming dress, Reagan obliged and quickly made her way to the window. Stepping close to the glass that separated her from the display, she peered lustfully over the gauzy confection, imagining what it would look like draped over her frame. “How perfect are you?” She decided, and found her feet were already leading her inside.

  All she wanted was a closer look, she lied to herself as she pushed through the door. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to look at
some matching shoes either...

  “Do you need help?” An unenthusiastic shop girl laden with tattoos and piercings never even looked up from the black covered book she was reading as she greeted her. But Reagan barely noticed, she was much too focused on finding that dress.

  “No thanks. I think I know what I want.”

  The girl shrugged while Reagan searched the cramped store. Spotting it toward the back, she quickly flipped through hangers to find her size, then held it up in front of her to examine the fit. Admiring the layers of gauze and shimmer, she flicked a fingernail over one of the beads as she envisioned herself walking into the party, wearing this dress. The image made her straighten her shoulders a little more, tip her chin up a little higher.

  “Do you have a fitting room?” She called out to the shop girl, knowing the full danger she’d be in if in fact the dress fit as perfectly as she thought it would. But she just had to see...

  “Around the corner, in the back.” The girl pointed vaguely in some direction behind the counter.

  Winding her way around toward the back, Reagan eventually found the door marked Dressing Room and slipped quickly inside, dress in hand. And as she pulled up the zipper on the side, she couldn’t help the squeal of excitement at the discovery that it perfectly hugged her curves in all the right places. As though it’d been made just for her. She felt beautiful in it, almost stunning. Daring to step out, she paraded herself in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway, spinning and shimmying to see how the dress moved.

  Until, that is, she felt the analyzing eyes of another clerk moving over her body. Suddenly filled with doubt, she stood still as the tall, lanky man walked to one side of her, then the other, arms crossed over his chest with a perplexed expression alighting his face. Reagan stood still, watching his facial expressions closely for any sign of criticism. Since it appeared from his own ensemble that he took much more care with his appearance than she did in her day-to-day life, she couldn’t help but to be a bit uneasy as she waited for his final approval.