Sam Cruz's Infallible Guide to Getting Girls

by Tellulah Darling

  Sam has come with me and he’s chowing down on fries.

  Everything feels normal between us. Status quo restored.

  “Want to go bowling?”

  I suppress an involuntary shudder. “No thanks. I’ve done enough of that for a while.”

  I guess I’m leaning over a little too close to smell his French fry goodness. Or maybe he notices how fixated I’m staring at them, because he pushes the plate closer to me.

  “Just take one.”

  I sigh. “I can’t. I’m doing a cleanse.”

  “Why?”

  Why indeed. Because I’m trying to impress my new boyfriend? Because I’m trying to show I have willpower? Because I’m trying to be a better human being?

  “Adam thought it would be good for me.”

  “Told you he wasn’t the one for her,” I hear Matt say to Rosie.

  I flip him the finger.

  Rosie winks at me then tells Matt, “Don’t gloat. You get a double chin.”

  So much for being on my side. I can’t flip her the finger because she’s like my grandma.

  I turn my attention back to Sam who is, at the moment, my only friend in this dump.

  “How are things with you? Out manwhoring around?”

  “You know me,” he replies.

  That’s not an actual answer. I’m not sure what to follow up with, however, so there is this awkward silence between us.

  I throw a subtle glance at his fries.

  He picks one up and holds it out to me. “Eat it, already.”

  “No. I’ve committed to this and I need to see it through.”

  “Like you did with becoming a player? ‘Help me, Sam. You’re the master, Sam.’” He pops the fry in his mouth.

  Seriously? “What didn’t I see through?”

  “Everything.”

  “I tried it. It was fine.”

  “Really? Because you sounded like it was more than fine.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Matt perk up so I whip up a hand to shut him down. Don’t even go there right now, mister.

  “Are you mad because I’m not living my life according to your wisdom or because we’re not sleeping together?”

  I refuse to admit which one I want him to pick. Okay. Yes. I want him to want to sleep with me. Ever since I found out he hung with Nikki, I’ve felt like I was demoted in his life. So yes, the petty side of me wants to see Mr. Calm, Cool, and Get-the-Hell out have his feathers ruffled by little ole me.

  That’s dominance, baby.

  Just one small sign. Then I’ll go back to equality on all fronts.

  “This is stupid,” he says, picking up another fry and bringing it right up near my mouth. “If it’s not making you happy, then don’t do it.”

  I’m not sure if he’s talking about the fry, Adam, or what.

  He pops the fry in my mouth. “Chew.”

  I do. I moan in delight.

  Sam leans in slightly, probably in horrified fascination of how orgasmic I’m finding this French fry.

  I swallow and look at him, hoping for another fry.

  He hesitates.

  “Here it comes,” Rosie says in a low voice but loud enough to catch.

  Goody. More fries.

  No. Sam’s kiss.

  It’s the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had.

  I’m melting inside. Nothing has ever been so perfect.

  It’s totally different from every other kiss we’ve had. Not throw me down and take me now.

  But scarily way more intimate.

  And that realization hits us at the same time because we both stop kissing and freeze.

  Except our lips still touch. They’re not doing anything other than being pressed against each other.

  My eyes scan back and forth rapidly, somewhat panicked.

  Sam seems to hang there, doing a perfect impression of a Medusa victim who has been turned to stone.

  And yet, there we sit, connected at the mouth but not doing anything except breathing at each other.

  This is now the worst, most awkward kiss ever.

  Matt makes a noise of disgust, which jars us out of our purgatory smooch.

  I move my glass of juice at the same moment Sam fumbles and the red liquid gets sloshed all over the table.

  We scramble apart.

  “And there it went,” Rosie comments, not even bothering to be subtle about it.

  “I gotta get home,” I mutter, grabbing up my stuff.

  “Me too,” Sam says, not moving.

  I race for the door, head down, brain racing.

  That kiss wasn’t supposed to happen with Sam. That kiss was supposed to happen with Adam. Or some other future boyfriend.

  Because that kiss, that once in a lifetime perfect kiss, is only supposed to happen with someone you truly, shamelessly, unconditionally love.

  FUCK!

  Chapter twenty-seven

  I’m forcing myself to not think about that mindfuck of a kiss as Ally races out.

  Matt comes over, presumably to wipe up the cranberry juice, but mostly to swat me upside the head.

  “What?” I snarl.

  He shakes his head. “You disappoint me, young man.”

  I toss money on the table to cover our bill and leave without replying.

  What did he think would happen? Cue cheesy music as I declare my eternal love for Ally? Sorry, man. I don’t roll that way.

  No biggie. We got past sex, we’ll get past one stupid kiss. Besides, Ally has Adam to distract her.

  But just to be safe, I lay low the rest of the week. I don’t want to embarrass Ally in case she gets all emotional. So I give her time to calm down.

  Meantime, I’m focused on moving on to my next conquest. And Etienne’s party that Friday night is the perfect place to find her.

  ~

  Lights blaze and music thumps as I head up Frenchie’s front walk. The party is pumping.

  Inside it’s standing room only. Seems Etienne is more popular than I thought. Or he’s handing out free booze.

  I push my way through the crowd, giving a “hey” to people I know. I’ve almost made it to his kitchen before I run into our host with the most.

  He’s hammered already. He gets the jump on me, grabbing me in a headlock.

  I strain to free myself, then straighten and re-rumple my hair. Gotta make sure I deliver the goods when I meet Ms. Right Now.

  Etienne sucks in his breath sharply. Clarissa has arrived.

  “Her tits are like ripe mangoes.” He mimes crudely fondling them.

  Clarissa catches this classy display and flips him the finger. Go girl.

  This doesn’t deter Etienne a bit. “Why does Clarissa not care for me? I care for her. She is so bendable.”

  He moons dreamily after her. He is pathetic, so despite my natural prejudices against relationships, I decide to throw the brother a bone.

  “Dawg, it’s because you say things like that. Try talking to her like a normal human being.”

  Etienne has a light bulb “aha!” moment. “Genius. It is so crazy, it just might work. Formidable!”

  He hurries into the throng in search of her.

  I head to the kitchen, where sure enough, there is beer aplenty and begin my careful scoping.

  ~

  Not bad. I haven’t found anyone worth the active pursuit but there are a lot of perfectly nice distractions to keep me busy until I find the one.

  Like this cunning babe. A senior at Etienne’s school, she’s got a good sense of game and her flirt is activated in high gear.

  I’m thinking of reconsidering the “Keep Away” high school ban.

  We’re deep in the innuendo zone in the living room when, to my surprise, I see Ally arrive and position herself quietly on
the other side of what’s become the dance floor.

  I hadn’t realized Etienne was going to invite her.

  “You want to talk to that chick, fine,” the babe says to me. “But you don’t have to be so obvious about it.”

  I snap my gaze back to her. “She’s my sister. She just got dumped and I didn’t think she’d come out tonight. I’m just a little worried about how she’s doing.”

  “Brothers who look at their sisters like that get jail time, asshole.” She leaves.

  “Keep away” reinforced.

  I head straight for Ally, because she doesn’t seem to know anyone there. And we might as well get this first meeting over with.

  I pass Etienne, jumping around manically in what I guess is dancing. “It’s like Labiapalooza in here,” he calls out. “Come mosh.”

  “Later.”

  I stop in front of Ally and grin a hello. I lean close so she can hear me over the music. “Want to get some air?”

  She nods and follows me outside.

  The front porch is empty. I guess all the potheads have chosen the back porch for their territory, and with the front door closed, we can actually hear each other if we talk.

  Not that we are. I study Ally, who is weirdly quiet. “Everything good with Adam?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I don’t believe her but I don’t push it.

  “Okay,” I begin, determined to cheer her up to her normal self because if things stay quiet, she might start talking about something I don’t want to discuss. “There’s this penguin. He’s driving along and he hears a ‘fft’ noise. Thinking it’s a flat tire, he pulls into the next town and finds a mechanic.”

  I check to see she’s paying attention to my very fine joke. She nods for me to keep going.

  “The mechanic tells him it’s not a flat tire but he’ll need two hours to find the problem. So the penguin decides to take a walk. But it’s sooo hot.”

  “Poor penguin,” Ally says. “He should have started panting to cool down.”

  “Seriously?”

  She shuts up.

  “So the penguin is so hot, he’s dying. He goes into an ice cream store and starts eating all the flavors. And man, is he in heaven. He’s cool, it’s yummy, he’s just eating it all up.”

  “Now I’m craving ice cream,” she interrupts.

  I put my hand over her mouth for a second and continue. “There’s ice cream all over him. His beak, his feet. Suddenly he remembers it’s been two hours. So he goes back to the mechanic. The mechanic looks at him and says ‘looks like you blew a seal’ and the penguin replies ‘I was just eating ice cream.’”

  Ally laughs so hard she falls into her donkey braying thing again.

  That sets me off, so now we’re both howling like maniacs.

  “Shut up,” she wheezes.

  She steals my beer to take a sip but is still laughing and doesn’t get all of it in her mouth.

  “Now you’re dribbling. You’re such a loser.”

  I wipe her chin gently with my sleeve and pretend to shudder.

  “I love you,” she blurts out.

  I recoil. Not my finest moment but this is my biggest nightmare come true. There goes the friendship.

  “As a friend,” she scrambles to cover.

  I snort in disbelief.

  “Fine,” she huffs. “I love you. I’ve said it. Deal with it.”

  I stay silent. There is nothing good I can say here.

  “I knew it.” She crosses her arms.

  No. There is one thing. “I never should have slept with you.”

  “That’s your response?”

  “You’re the ‘fall in love’ girl. I knew that but I thought you could change. That you could handle it. And now it’s affected our friendship.”

  There. It needed to be said and I’ve said it.

  “Fuck you,” she retorts. “The only reason we’ve been friends this long is because you didn’t think I was hot enough to sleep with before.”

  “Unfair and untrue. I’ve slept with way uglier chicks than you.”

  “Whoa. That’s so liberal. And insulting.”

  “Don’t twist this into my issues,” I accuse.

  “No,” she mocks. “You don’t have any. You’re the perfect guy. Want to know the irony?”

  “Do I have a choice? Then no.”

  “I’m the perfect girl for you. And you can’t handle that. You can’t even see that. You never have.”

  “Grow up, Ally. It’s just sex. You don’t have to fall in love with a guy just because he shoves his dick in you. And that’s what you can’t see. You never have.”

  Ally stares at me evenly, her jaw locked so tight she looks like she might start spitting teeth. She gets up, hesitates like she has something else to say, then shakes her head sharply and jogs down the front stairs.

  “Typical chick,” I call out after her. “Leaving when she can’t deal with something.”

  “No,” she tosses out over her shoulder. “That’s you. That’s always been you.”

  She heads off into the night.

  “Of all the fucking drama,” I yell out, furious.

  I whip out my cell and punch in a number.

  “Hey Nikki,” I begin.

  And forget you, Ally.

  Chapter twenty-eight

  I knew he’d suck at hearing I loved him but not that badly. What’s his problem anyway?

  I mean he already loves me as his best friend. And we had amazing sex together. It’s not normal to just keep those elements separate indefinitely. It’s like having Hydrogen and Oxygen, which are both pretty cool on their own, but refusing to combine them into water.

  Without water you die, so you can totally see my point.

  Maybe we don’t literally die without love, but we do inside. That’s what I believe. It’s why I named Miyuki’s parrots Buffy and Angel; it’s why I like having a boyfriend, not just a hookup.

  It’s what I want in my life.

  Looking back, it’s not what I had with Jeremy. Not really. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have it now.

  Rachel was right. The player plan in the end was only breakup insanity. And maybe I had to go through it to get back to me, and what I believe is important. No regrets.

  But no settling either.

  And that’s why it’s super sad that I’m sitting in my room by myself. Post sweetest, most wonderful kiss ever, post “I love you,” post big stupid dork.

  Because Sam is not capable of being the guy I want him to be. The trouble with falling in love with my best friend is that I know him way too well to fool myself that he can change.

  Welcome to unrequited city. Population, me.

  I go over to my closet and start digging around on my shelves and through my memento boxes. There is stuff from my time with Jeremy; a weird amusement park stuffed fish he won me, random movie tickets, part of a trick card deck.

  But mostly, there is evidence of my lifelong friendship with Sam. I take the birthday hat down from its shelf in my closet and gently trace the abstract sparkly decoration, still glitter-tastic after all these years.

  After a moment I chuck it across the room into my small wastepaper basket.

  If ever a moment demanded comfy clothes and chocolate, this is it.

  Ten minutes later, I shuffle into my living room, hair in a ponytail, back in my old hemp clothes, dropping chocolate poo candy directly from the penguin’s butt into my mouth.

  I swallow another chocolate as I look down at myself. It feels right, but not. Like it’s comfy but maybe I’ve outgrown this. Maybe I need to figure out what I want to look like now.

  Who I want to be.

  Even if I’m not a hundred percent sure, one thing I do know is I am going to be fine. Better than fine. I am fabuchick. Hear me roar.


  As I’m realizing this, the doorbell rings.

  It’s Rachel. She takes one look at me and in a voice of utter dread says, “Oh no. Not the hemp.”

  She brushes past me to come inside. “I swear I’m going to burn those fugly things.”

  Rachel lunges for my shirt to try and pull it off.

  Quickly I put down the penguin, hanging onto my shirt for dear life with one hand, swatting at her with the other. “You want to see boobs, go look in a mirror.”

  “Take them off,” she insists, “and put on real human clothes.”

  I wrench myself free. “I will. I’m not going back to this. It’s not me anymore.” So empowered, am I, thinks the Yoda voice in my head.

  She studies me for a minute, then nods.

  I pick up the penguin again.

  She holds out her hand.

  Sharing is easier than wrestling with her so I comply and toss her a couple of chocolates.

  “Not bad,” she says, munching. She idly picks up the newspaper on our coffee table and starts in on a crossword puzzle.

  I peer over her shoulder. “Six down. ‘Betrayed.’”

  “Get your own,” Rach says.

  “Which makes eight down—”

  “‘Alone,’” she finishes. “Yup. I’m good here.”

  Rachel tries to pull the paper away but I come around to sit beside her and hold out another candy.

  She takes it.

  I figure out another one. “Thirteen across. ‘Obese.’ Oh. Eleven down? ‘In Hamlet, a rat was this for a ducat.’ Dead.” We just did Shakespeare in our poetry section in English, so I’m feeling pretty stoked about nailing that clue.

  Also highly impressed with how adult I’m being about this. One of us had to be and it sure wasn’t Sam.

  Rachel isn’t writing.

  I glance over to find her staring at me.

  “What exactly happened tonight?” she asks.

  I set down the penguin and smother myself with a couch cushion, in a joking kind of way.

  Rachel removes it. “Ally?” She sounds worried.

  “I told Sam I love him. Stupid, huh.”

  I throw her a “dumb me” eye roll.

  Maybe that eye roll uses up all my cockiness because suddenly I can’t fool myself any longer into believing that Sam didn’t just rip my heart into a billion pieces.