“What are you kids up to?” he asks.
He sounds very calm. This is good, right?
I give him a weak smile.
“Adam’s just telling us about his first time paragliding,” Rachel explains.
“Wicked experience. You into it?” Adam asks Sam.
“Sam’s a rock climber,” I say a bit too enthusiastically. “And plays basketball.”
Yes. I’m compensating. I don’t want either guy to feel bad.
Sam looks at me sharply but doesn’t say anything.
Adam is completely laid back about it all. “Well, I’m glad Ally has someone to glide with then.”
Sam nods. “Me too. It’s good for Al and I to have other people to hang out with.”
Rachel and Ian exchange a confused glance.
Adam puts his arm around me.
“Maybe we can shoot hoops sometime,” he suggests to Sam. “You know, the boyfriend and the friend.”
I wince. Because there it is. The fact of Adam and my dating, out in the open, and I wasn’t the one who told Sam.
I grimace a “sorry” face at him.
“Sure. Her ex wasn’t big on sports.”
“So long as I’m not her transitional guy after Jeremy,” Adam jokes.
Sam glances my way. “No worries on that front.”
“We talked,” I explain to Sam. “I came clean about the playing dumb thing—”
“Which was a relief,” Adam interrupts “because I was worried I was going to have to watch Long Island Medium instead of Mythbusters.”
“Imagine that,” Sam replies.
Silence.
“Adam wants to study robotics engineering,” Ian says. I’m guessing he’s trying to fill the very awkward pause but I wish this conversation would just die already.
Because it’s killing me. It’s like the most painful small talk when all I want to do is speak to Sam and find out if he’s okay. If his dad tore a strip off him. If he hates me for abandoning the plan. And him.
“Sam is going to design school,” Rachel adds.
“He’s really good at visuals,” I point out. God. Why can’t I just shut up? “You should see what he came up with for this Marketing class assignment he has.”
“I’m a master at designing shiny things that suck people in,” he says blandly.
Low. Blow. “Such a healthy ego on you,” I tell him sweetly. Through gritted teeth.
I feel Rachel kick me under the table. I look over at her and she’s subtly motioning with her head toward the bathroom. Like she wants to talk to me.
No way.
“I, for one, am very happy to meet you Adam,” Rosie pipes up from her usual stool at the counter. “That thing with Jeremy was awful. I’m glad Ally is moving on.”
“Sucks for you though, Sam. Friends always get shoved aside for new relationships,” Matt says.
“I would never shove Sam aside,” I protest. Unless he keeps acting like a dickwad.
Adam whispers something lewd in my ear. I swat at him playfully. “Well, yes. For that.”
Sam grabs my arm. “Can I speak to you a minute?” he asks, yanking me out of the booth. “In private?”
I follow him past Rosie and Matt in time to hear her accuse him of being “a mean mean man”.
Sam has stormed off ahead but I’ve slowed down because I’m curious to hear what Matt has to say for himself.
“You know how many years I’ve had to watch them? Her with that stump, Jeremy, and him sleeping his way through the phone book? Figure it out already, kids.”
I can’t help but turn and reveal I was blatantly eavesdropping by replying, “There is nothing to figure out.”
Matt blows me off with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
I’m going to protest but I see Sam waiting for me, visibly impatient, so I scurry over to him.
Calming breath. Start again.
“I’m sorry for bolting. Did you get in huge trouble?”
“What happened to Abra Renfrew?” he hisses at me, ignoring the question.
I’m taken aback. Not where I expected this to go. “Um. Well, because of you, I feel better about myself. I’m having better sex. You did this for me and I’m totally thankful.”
“But?”
“No ‘but.’ I’m evolving into pursing a casual yet ongoing relationship without expectations. This is a big step for me.”
“Great,” he snarks.
“Sam,” I put my hand on his arm.
He pulls it away.
“You’re mad because I left you there to deal with your dad.”
“Nope.”
“Then it’s the plan. You were right. I’m not that—”
“It’s not the plan.”
My frustration with his useless answers gets too much and I snap.
“You’re pissed about something. Is this because we’re not sleeping together anymore?”
Say “Of course not, Ally. It’s because you’re my best friend and every second you’re away from me, I miss you.”
Say it.
“We’re not?” he asks.
Bastard.
“D’uh.” I fix him with a steely glare.
He simply shrugs and walks away.
Chapter twenty-five
I knew it! I knew there was no way to turn girls from clingers to players. How long did Ally last? Barely a month and she is already back to dating.
After all that hard work and effort. For what? Fuck. All. Those chicks are a lost cause.
I decide to get over my extreme disappointment by going rock climbing at an indoor rock wall with Etienne. Clear my mind, Zen out, just me and the holds.
I’m snug in my harness, halfway up the toughest route with Etienne next to me. I search for my next hold and try not to be completely distracted by the horndog beside me tilting his head to check out every girl’s ass in the place.
“I love yoga pants,” Etienne muses.
I wish he’d give it a rest already.
“You’ve always been a clever boy,” he tells me, searching for his next move, “but you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“With what?”
“How you managed to convince a chick to buy into the ‘get in, sleep with a guy, get out quickly’ idea. I bow before your genius.”
No way am I letting him know the entire thing just failed.
“That’s me,” I say cockily.
“To be able to nail her over and over again with no strings attached. Brilliant. You’re living the dream.”
Right. That dream is dead too. Not dream. Aspect. Of my life. “Over and over again,” I lie.
He keeps talking.
I stretch out for a far hold, hoping to put some distance between us so I don’t have to listen to him drone on.
Nope. I can still hear him.
I speed up my climb, tag the top, and rappel down.
So much for Zen.
~
Where rock climbing fails, Wii baseball succeeds.
Ian and I are in the middle of a very close game. I’m up to bat now and savagely nailing his pitches. Screwball, curveball, bring ‘em. I hit every one, all while entertaining Ian with a particularly pathetic Darwin Award anecdote.
I’m feeling better. Bros over hos every time.
“I don’t care how drunk this farmer is,” Ian protests. “No straight bloke is going to suggest stripping naked and playing games with his friends.”
“To be fair,” I reply, “they were very macho games. Hitting each other over the head with frozen turnips, grabbing chain saws and cutting off the ends of their feet.”
“Bollocks.”
“It’s a Darwin Award winner. You can’t make stupidity like this up. So the farmer decides he doesn’t want to be outdone a
fter the foot thing, grabs the saw, says ‘watch this’ and chops off his own head.”
The Wii cheerfully directs us to switch positions.
I pitch a changeup.
“People like that make me feel better about my own life,” Ian comments, striking out.
“Best part? His buddy commented that when he was young, he put on his sister’s underwear. But he died like a man.”
Ian strikes out his second and third players.
“Kicking. Your. Butt.” I gloat.
Attila scampers in and tugs at my leg. I shake it to dislodge her. She tugs again.
“Not now cat,” I tell her, taking up position as batter once again. I brush her to the side.
Ian pitches a low ball but I hit it and get to first. I shake out my shoulders.
“That’s good. Work off that sexual tension.”
I adjust my stance. “What tension?”
Attila tries to get my attention by purring at me but I’m on a winning streak here so I ignore her and she leaves.
“Ally’s out with Adam. You’re here with me,” Ian explains.
“If I wanted to be out having sex, I would. Don’t need Ally.”
“Yeah. About that. I think as the honorary cousin, dating Rachel and all, I’m supposed to punch you.”
“Statute of limitations is up. And I’m not sleeping with her anymore.”
“Not that it’s still an option,” he replies and strikes me out.
I brush it off. My first out of the inning. “Plenty of fish in the sea,” I retort.
“And I’m sure you’ve reeled in lots lately. Other than Al. Right?”
He strikes me out a second and third time in rapid succession.
Ian’s cell buzzes that he has a text. He pulls it out of his pocket and glances at the screen. “Gotta go.”
“What about our game?”
“Rach finished her essay. She’s free.”
“I feel used.”
“Because you’re a dirty boy.” He tosses his Wii controller at me and leaves.
Whatever. Who needs guys when there are such excellent girls to play with?
I sit on my couch, phone in hand, chatting to Nikki. “Thought you might want to go see a movie. I know it’s short notice but…”
She cuts me off with an excuse about a friend’s birthday party.
I rub my jaw, irritated. “No. Another time. Talk to you later, Nik.”
So what? There’s a whole wide world of chicks to pull. I dress to kill and head out to make some foxy lady very happy.
Except when I get to the club that’s lax on IDs and rich in females and see all the people queued up hoping to get in, I just can’t stand the thought of joining them.
Even though the bouncer nods at me and opens the rope to let me pass, I give a small shake of my head and a wave goodbye.
My favorite indie theatre is just down the block. A much better idea.
“One please.” I hand my money over for a ticket to the fly cashierist who is all Southern charm.
“You all alone tonight, sugar?”
She smiles at me.
Score.
~
On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a “pleasant”. The deed got done but the earth did not rock, the mind was not blown.
If Ally has wrecked sex with other girls for me, I’ll kill her.
Best not get into that dark head trip. Pleasant happened. Happens to everyone. No need for worry.
I haven’t done my customary après-sprint. I’m thinking that maybe I should extend my new philosophy of just talking and hanging with girls to hookups as well.
Show Ally that guys, at least, are capable of change.
I smile as Southern honey Gemma enters the living room in a bathrobe. She gives me a surprised look.
“You still here, hon?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to go out and grab a coffee or something?”
“Can’t,” she replies in a tone that really means “won’t.”
She tosses me my shirt. “But it’s awful sweet of you.”
Gemma waits pointedly for me to get up.
Yeah. I get the hint.
This is messed up.
Chapter twenty-six
No big surprise I get grilled by Rachel.
“I should have seen it coming.” She shakes her head as she sits on her bed folding laundry, like she’s mad at herself.
That makes two of us. “And what if you did? It’s my life, Rach. I know you love me and you mean well, but I’m not your baby cousin to watch over anymore.”
Rach is silent for a minute. “You’re right. And I shouldn’t treat you that way.”
“Thank you.” I snag a cute top of hers and hold it up to myself in the mirror, checking myself out. It’s a keeper. “I’m borrowing this.”
Ian arrives and kisses Rachel. “What are you two ladies chatting about?”
“Her sleeping with Sam and how she’s a grown up and it’s not my business,” Rachel replies.
“Good girl. Though I did threaten to punch him,” Ian tells me.
“Sweet, Ian. But not necessary.”
“As your friend, not your older and wiser cousin, may I just remind you for future reference that friends with benefits never works. Someone always gets more involved.”
Ian agrees with her. “That’s why I started dating you before we could become friends.”
“I’m just your ho? Leave the cash on the dresser and no talking?”
“Not just talking,” he says. “No kissing either. Full on hooker sex only.”
He puts his arm around her. She rests her head on his shoulder.
“I can live with that,” she says. “I’ve got enough friends.”
“If you’re finished being nauseating, I thank you for your concern. But Sam and I are fine.”
Mostly.
“And I have a cute boy to meet.” With that, I take off.
The boyfriend has racked up an impressive number of awesome points. So I’ve brought him to the bowling alley to see if the boy’s dexterity extends to the lanes.
All I can say at this point is that Adam certainly applies the same level of concentration to everything. He’s been holding his bowling ball for about three minutes, so laser-focused on those poor pins at the end, I’m amazed they haven’t exploded in a cloud of dust.
Since I’d like my turn sometime this century, I decide to interrupt whatever meditative state he’s in.
“Hey, hon,” I begin.
I get no further because he turns around with a look of patent exasperation.
“I’m trying to concentrate.”
That’s fair but let’s get real here, shall we? It’s a one-off bowling game, not the Middle East peace talks. If I learned anything from my time with Jeremy, it’s that I refuse to be anything other than equal to my boyfriend.
Jeremy did, in hindsight, have a bad tendency to dominate.
“It’s just bowling,” I point out, making sure to keep my voice cheerful. No need to come across as a bitch.
“Just?” Adam’s expression seems practically sorrowful. “Done right, it’s a Zen moment of connection between man and ball ending in the triumph over the pin.”
“And done wrong?” I can’t help but ask.
“Ally.” Said with maximum displeasure before turning back to his contemplation of the lane.
I’m so happy to be dating someone who is smart and into me and who so obviously has so much passion. For everything.
But where is this guy’s sense of humor? I’m inappropriately tempted to bowl a Flintstone ball on my turn and see how that goes down.
I won’t though. Instead, I apologize. “Sorry. I’ll keep quiet.”
He turns around. “Babe, you spoke again.”<
br />
I mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key.
He shakes his head. “No. Speak. Otherwise I’ll just feel your tension.”
This is what you get when you date a guy whose single mom is a New Age practitioner. Whatever the hell that means. It seems to involve a lot of flaky language.
Give me “bow chicka wow wow” anytime.
“It’s no big deal,” I tell him. “I just wanted to speed up the game a bit so that I could invite you over to watch the Na’vi save their tree.”
He shrugs in an “I have no idea what you’re talking about” way.
That can’t be right.
“Avatar? Eco-positive mega hit?” I prompt.
“God,” he groans. “Not sci-fi.”
I can’t be hearing this right. “What’s wrong with sci-fi? You want to be a robotics engineer.”
“Not you, too. I’ve been fighting that prejudice my whole life.”
“You’re eighteen. I hardly think you’ve had to take to the streets over this.”
Adam gets tight-lipped and takes his turn.
Seriously? I talk to Sam like this all the time. Man up, buddy.
After bowling a spare, which apparently is a massive failure that is all my fault, he sits down sulkily on the plastic chair beside me.
I have no desire to have a fight over a stupid movie, even if it is excellent and he should totally get over himself and watch it. “What would you like to watch?”
“Wrestling.” His face lights up. “But first I’ll take you to this great raw foods place.”
“I’m actually more of a cooked foods kind of girl.”
“Yeah. You’d do great with a cleanse,” he informs me.
Lucky lucky me.
~
The night totally sucked. I tried to muster up enthusiasm for roidheads throwing each other to the floor and cold veggies but all I could think about was one of Matt’s teriyaki bowls.
I’m not going to cave in to my baser instincts, though, and am determined to prove to Adam I can stick with the program.
That doesn’t keep me from stopping by the diner on my way home from school the next day for a healthy cranberry juice. I can just sit and smell all the yumminess without falling off the wagon.
Sam Cruz's Infallible Guide to Getting Girls Page 12