Dating the It Guy

by Krysten Lindsay Hager

  Normally I ate at least three slices of pizza, but today I only had two, which I ate with a knife and fork. He had four pieces and some of the breadsticks that came with the pizza. I gave him the magnetic notepad off the fridge to take notes on the show and about died when I realized that it said, “Shop Your Buns Off.” As I started writing down what the dad character had said to the kid, the screen went black for a second. I saw Brendon staring at me in the reflection. Was he staring at me in a good way, or did I have pizza sauce on my face?

  We watched the episode twice and then answered the homework questions.

  “So how’d you end up taking this class?” he asked.

  “My summer internship at the newspaper fell through, and my parents wanted me to do something productive.”

  “I did an internship at the state capital last summer. It was the most boring thing ever, and I lost respect for almost all the people I had to work with. Some of those people are seriously phony, and I don’t even think they realize how much of themselves is fake—it’s like they start to morph into this human sound bite—does that make sense?” he asked.

  “Totally.”

  He seemed more, I don’t know, human or something. I used to watch him at his locker with his rich friends and wonder what it would be like to be in his world. What did he and his friends do for fun? Where did they hang out on weekends? They certainly didn’t go anywhere my friends and I spent time.

  When he left, he gave me his cell number and e-mail and told me to call him if I had problems with my half of the paper. Normally, I always gave anybody I worked with my phone number right away, but I had been afraid to give him my number in case he thought, “How pathetic. Why don’t you just throw yourself at me?”

  I knew I wouldn’t call him, but it was nice that he gave me his number, and I wondered what I could get for it if I auctioned it off online. When I went to put the number in my phone, I accidentally knocked my affirmation journal out of the bookshelf. It opened right to the page where it said, “Visualize something twenty times, and you can make it happen.” Now, I had read that line a trillion times, but I never did it. Sure, I had pictured myself with a new purse or those cool boots that Sierra on As My Children Wept always wore, but I had never done that with a guy. Still, what could it hurt? It wasn’t like I was altering the universe. I was just picturing Brendon and me walking through the halls at school…while holding hands. He didn’t have a girlfriend or anything so it was completely harmless, right?

  The next day, I woke with this weird feeling my laptop was going to act up. In fact, when I checked my e-mail in the morning, I was kind of surprised it switched on at all. I figured I was just being paranoid about not getting my rough draft done, or maybe it was because the planet Mercury was in retrograde, but I tried to ignore my feelings. We had the day off from class, so I didn’t start working on my paper until later in the evening. I had just started typing when my screen froze. Feeling panicked, I hit Control-Alt-Delete and restarted the laptop, but the screen went blue and started flickering. What was it doing, and why was there a little gray box on my computer telling me I had sixty seconds until it shut down? Fifty-nine…fifty-eight…fifty-seven… This was just like the episode of As My Children Wept where Samson had to stop the bomb hidden in Sierra and Aristotle’s wedding cake. Did it mean the laptop was going to blow? On the show, the cake blew up, and everybody thought Aristotle was dead…well, until he showed up at Sierra’s next wedding, and was Sierra’s new husband mad…probably just as mad as Mrs. Rae would be when I didn’t turn in my assignment.

  “Mo-om! My laptop’s possessed. Fix it!”

  “Why don’t you just ask me to get out my fairy princess wand and throw pixie dust on it,” she shot back. “I’d have better luck with that.”

  Sarcasm was not cute when you were having a crisis. I tried calling Zach, but his mom said he was working late. I was desperate, so I asked his mom if she knew anything about computers.

  “There’s a guy at Mary’s Little RAMs who works on mine. I could give you his number, but they closed at five tonight.”

  I hung up defeated. I didn’t know anybody who knew a thing about computers. Oh crap. I did know somebody who knew about computers. Brendon. He had mentioned he took a computer class last semester, but could I call him? Usually I’d have no problem calling a guy for something, but this wasn’t a normal guy. He was what Margaux would call a “Hottie McHotHot.” Okay, what was wrong with me? He was just a regular person like everybody else. He put his pants on one leg at a time and went to the toilet like everybody else…but I bet his bathroom was super clean and everything in it matched. I pictured the whole room done in some manly, rich-person color like “hunter green” or “maroon.” And there would be lots of dark mahogany—

  “Emme? Do you want to use my laptop to work on your paper?” Mom yelled up the stairs.

  “It won’t help,” I replied. “I saved it on the hard drive because I’m an idiot.”

  Stupid Mercury retrograde. I should have known better than to expect a computer to work right. I should have backed up my work or e-mailed it to myself, but no, I was too worried about ordering new lip gloss from lickitylips.com. Now I had no paper, no gloss, and probably after I called Brendon begging him for help, no pride. I called and left a message on Brendon’s phone. He was probably out with some amazing prelaw, premed student who donated blood to anemic puppies and did puppet shows for the elderly while knitting booties for—

  My phone rang, and Brendon’s name popped up on the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Emme, it’s Brendon. What’s up?”

  I explained about my computer, and he started giving me suggestions, which would have been helpful if I had known what he was talking about. It was like he was speaking in Aramaic. He offered to come over, and the second I hung up the phone I went to fix my hair. Normally I didn’t do much with my hair. It was long and always seemed messy no matter what I did with it. Kylie always said it was tousled like something out of a magazine, and yeah, sometimes I agreed with her and even loved my hair…and other times I feel like strangers on the street were going to walk up and hand me a hairbrush. My hair had been in a ponytail all night, so I couldn’t wear it down because it had a ponytail holder crease. I wound it into a loose bun and put on my ruby lip stain. I was digging through my hamper for my cutest top when the doorbell rang. I threw it on and ran down the stairs.

  “Hey, thanks for coming over,” I said as I answered the door. I told him my laptop was upstairs, and I felt weird, like I was trying to lure him into my bedroom or something. He followed me, and I realized I should have made sure my dirty underpants weren’t half hanging out of my hamper when I shut it. Of course it wasn’t a cute pair, but the big momma pants. Why didn’t I just wear Little Bo Peep pantaloons?

  “See, it does this weird countdown thing when I turn it on,” I said. He sat at my desk and started messing with my laptop while I sat on the bed. I wondered if he washed his hands or used some hand sanitizer because I had this strict “clean hands” policy about my keyboard. I mean, I heard on the news those keyboards were playgrounds for bacteria.

  “It’s probably because Mercury is in retrograde,” I said. He stared at me as if I had said, “I was sacrificing a goat in here before you came in, please excuse the stains on my ceremonial robe.” I tried to explain. “It’s the planet that rules communication—never mind. Do you think you can fix it?”

  “Not sure yet,” he said. “I think I can retrieve your paper though. Do you have someplace else to finish it if I can’t get this computer to work?”

  I started to answer when he said he had brought his laptop over for me to use while he worked on my computer. So I could either go downstairs and type on my mother’s boring laptop and leave Mr. Hotness alone in my bedroom, or I could stay here and work on it while we were in my room. Together. Alone. In my room. I loved the planet Mercury.

  Chapter 2

  While I tried not to drool, Bren
don put the computer in “safe mode” and was able to save my paper to a drive. He started up his laptop for me, and I leaned over him while he explained how to use it. The side of his ear and neck were hot. I never knew anyone could have such amazing ears. People take things like ears for granted when it comes to the cuteness factor.

  “Did you get all that?” he asked. I had no idea what he was referring to, but I nodded. Why couldn’t I keep my head around this guy? It wasn’t like I had grown up in a convent or something and this was the first guy I had ever seen. I never had trouble talking to guys before, so why was I thrown by him? Well, other than the fact he was amazingly hot and nice. Nice. I didn’t even believe in the myth of the “nice guy,” but Brendon seemed to be one. I had noticed last year that even when his friends would make fun of people in the hallways at school, he never did. And who else would have come over to try and fix my computer and bring along his laptop in case I needed it? Okay, I needed to focus. After all, my grandmother always warned me about falling into the whole “knight on a white horse” thing. She said women did not need rescuing and I could take care of myself, and with the exception of this laptop thing, I could. So why did I act stupid around him?

  “I think it’s a virus.”

  “Huh?” I glanced up.

  “I think you have a virus,” he said. “You should probably take it in and have it checked out. Wish I could fix it, but what can I say? I’m not that smart.”

  A guy who admitted he couldn’t fix something? Grandma didn’t warn me about that happening. In fact, she wouldn’t believe such a thing existed.

  “Well, thanks for trying and getting my paper off there. I can use my mom’s computer if you want your laptop back. I hope I didn’t infect you…” Ugh, why couldn’t I just be normal for two seconds? “I mean, I put this drive in your computer—”

  “I have tons of virus blockers and stuff on there. It should be fine. Are you sure you don’t need it anymore?” he said. “How’s your paper coming?”

  I shrugged. “It’s coming. Thanks again for coming over. I thought I was going to have to throw holy water on it to—” Shut up, shut up, shut up, you little weirdo. “I mean, thanks for coming over. See ya tomorrow.”

  As soon as he left, Mom came into the room to ask if my computer was fixed.

  “No, but my friend was able to get my paper for me. I guess I have a virus.”

  “So your friend was able to get it for you,” she said, smirking. “How interesting you called a guy to help you.”

  “What? Oh, because only guys know about computers. That is so sexist, mother.”

  “I meant because you got ready like you were going to the prom,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you wearing makeup just to do your homework.”

  I rolled my eyes and told her I had to get going on my homework. She made smooching noises as she got her laptop for me. It would be nice to have a mother who didn’t have the social skills of a six-year-old. Before I got back to work, I decided to light some candles. It was Tuesday, so I lit my pink cotton candy scented soy candle to draw love. Grandma was the one who had told me how different candle colors meant different things and which days you should light which candle. My mom wasn’t into that sort of thing, although she did light blue candles for safe travels before we’d go on trips. I wondered if the pink candle thing actually worked. It had never done anything for me before, but what if this time was different? Chances were nothing would ever happen with Brendon and me, but what if he was my soul mate? Stranger things had happened. Like the time I had a dream years ago about a player throwing up during basketball finals. I mentioned it to my dad, who had seen me predict stuff before, so he bet a ton on the game with some of his friends. Well, I was right about the guy having the flu, but he still played, and his team won. And my dad was not happy. Grandma told him that’s what he got for trying to “abuse my gift for profit.” However, my “gift” wasn’t helping me figure out how to talk to Brendon. Okay, forget talk, I wanted him to fall for me the way the singer Nick Bettis fell for my favorite actress, Grai—wait, they didn’t exactly work out. Or did they get back together? Once my subscription to Starlight Magazine expired, it was like I wasn’t up on anything anymore.

  I sat back on my bed. I couldn’t think of one other person who would have dropped everything to come over to help someone they barely knew. It had to mean something, right? I had a weird feeling he and I were supposed to be more than just partners in class. Well, even if the candle thing didn’t work, it still made my room smell good.

  I tried to picture what it would be like to date Brendon and imagined him taking me to a restaurant on the water. One of those places that put up Christmas lights year round so everything’s all romantic and sparkly. It would be private and dark, so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting sauce on my chin or trying to use my knife and fork. I was convinced back in the day I had missed the lesson on how to properly use silverware. Maybe I was sick that day like I was the day when everybody learned how to tell time, which meant for the rest of my life, I had to pretend I couldn’t see my watch clearly whenever someone asked what time it was. I was sure Brendon could tell time easily with his expensive Riley Turner watch. The price of his watch could single-handedly save the rain forest. Okay, maybe not, but it was expensive. As I sat there, I wondered if he believed in love at first sight and the whole soul mate/kindred spirit thing. Then I wondered if he had any feelings for me at all. I couldn’t sleep, so I went to talk to my mom. She was in her room, reading, and I noticed she had a bunch of green candles lit on the coffee table.

  “For Grandma?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she was always lighting green candles when people got sick,” she said. “Maybe now it’ll work for her.”

  I wasn’t sure whether or not to point out the light-green candle in the middle was actually suited more for getting pregnant than getting well, but I thought I’d let it go. Maybe the exact shade of green wasn’t as important as Grandma had led me to believe. Or maybe I’d have a new brother or sister soon—eww. I couldn’t even let my mind go there.

  “I’ve been lighting them, too,” I said.

  “I know, your father’s been complaining you’re going to burn the house down. He’s afraid you’ll forget how many you lit.”

  I had never forgotten to blow out a candle—fine, okay, once. I had lit an aromatherapy stress candle, my friend Margaux called, and I was on the phone for over an hour. When I came back, the candle had burned so low that I didn’t see the flame, and I didn’t remember it was lit until I switched off the lights to go to bed. If it wasn’t for the tiny glow, I would have fallen asleep without blowing it out, but even if I didn’t blow it out, it was in a container, so I’m sure it wouldn’t have caught my dresser on fire. Besides, it wasn’t like we didn’t have insurance.

  “If nothing else, the green should help us with prosperity,” she said.

  “I thought purple was for prosperity.”

  “You should know, I guess. You always paid way more attention to what Grandma was saying about the superstitious stuff than I did.”

  “Do you think she’s going to be all right?” I asked.

  “She’s a fighter, but you need to get to bed. You don’t want dark circles under your eyes for when you see Brendon—” She started laughing. “Sorry, that sounded like something an old-fashioned sitcom mother would say. Get your butt to bed, kiddo.”

  “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more sitcom mom-ish,” I said. Mom said she’d work on teasing her hair up and wearing an apron to make breakfast in the morning.

  Chapter 3

  I got to class late and didn’t get to talk to Brendon until it was over. He asked if I wanted to go over to the student lounge and get something to drink.

  “Did you finish your rough draft?” he asked as we sat down.

  I started to say that I was pretty much done with it when my mom called on my cell phone to say she was going to visit my grandma this aftern
oon, so I should get a ride home with Zach and Kylie. Unfortunately, Zach and Kylie had already left, so I was going to have to take the bus.

  “Everything okay?” Brendon asked.

  “My mom can’t pick me up because she’s going to St. Mary’s to see my grandma. My grandma had a stroke recently.”

  “I can take you home,” he said, and we walked out to his car. “My grandfather had a stroke a few years ago.”

  I nodded, but didn’t know what to say because I had seen that on the news when it happened.

  “Every Labor Day we go up to my grandparents’ house and hang out, and it’s hard to see him this way,” he said. “He was a senator, like my dad, and now my grandma cuts up his food like he’s a little kid or something. Some days she even has to feed him—it sucks.”

  “My grandma had to move to the rehab center because she can’t walk too well now. It’s so depressing to go there,” I said. Margaux’s eyes glazed over if I talked about visiting my grandmother, but Brendon seemed to be paying attention.

  “My granddad’s still able to live at home with my grandmother, but my family checks in on them. It’s a big house, but he can only get around the first floor in his wheelchair,” Brendon said as he traced the steering wheel with his finger. “It sucks because he used to be pretty active. They even have a tennis court in the backyard.”

  I couldn’t imagine having a tennis court in my backyard. Last year we had a rabid gopher and animal control had to come out, but that was the extent of any interesting stuff going on in my backyard.

  “Hey, do you play tennis?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m not good though.”

  “I reserved a court time for tomorrow night, and my friend backed out. I hate to waste it. Any chance you’d want to play at the country club with me?”