Dating the It Guy

by Krysten Lindsay Hager

  I cracked up. “No wonder all your girlfriends have had the natural look.”

  He tilted his head. “You know who I’ve gone out with?” How did he not realize how many girls were into him?

  “I’m joking,” I said. Well, I sort of was. “You went out with Lauren, though, and she fits the look.”

  “Yeah, we dated for a while. Some people seriously were saying we’d end up married. So crazy.” Everyone said those things because they were both high achievers with perfect looks and backgrounds. It was like the daughter of the peanut butter dynasty being promised to the jelly tsar’s son.

  “Yeah, insane. You’re both in high school.”

  “I know, right? People always try to map out my life for me. They assume I’m going to follow in my father’s footsteps: get married young, run for office, work my way up the ladder, have the perfect family—only unlike my dad, they assume I’ll eventually run for President. Although I think my old man’s still got designs on the Oval Office.”

  “So is any of that what you want?” I asked.

  He blinked. “I don’t even know what I want. It’s hard to explain, but when you grow up in a family where your dad and your grandpa were known for something, it’s like everyone assumes you’ll pick up the baton and finish the race. I know it sounds like, ‘oh, poor little rich kid crying because his family has connections,’ but it’s overwhelming.”

  “Wow, I never thought about it that way. I guess I just assumed you had all these doors open to you, and your life was, well, planned. But also like you had it made—you were set.”

  “That’s what most people think, and in some ways it’s true, but is it what I want? I honestly don’t know.”

  “What would you do if you didn’t have any family pressure on you?” I asked.

  “You’ll laugh at me.”

  “If I didn’t laugh at the Sweetie Gals or the clown thing, then I think you’re safe.”

  “True, you have proven yourself worthy of my trust,” he said, smiling. “Okay, I would like to be a journalist. This sounds weird, but I am super into current events. Pretty much all of the apps on my phone are news. As a kid, I loved sitting with the press on the plane when there were big events. My dad wouldn’t be into the idea, though. He hates the media with a passion.”

  “Does he know you’re into journalism?”

  “Nah. I mentioned something once after a negative story about him came out and said how they were just doing their jobs, and he cut me off. He said it used to be about reporting the news and staying neutral, but now everyone tried to make a name for themselves, and it was somehow okay for journalists to give their opinion. That is exactly why I want to do it. I want to go back to how it used to be, getting both sides of the story, staying neutral, and putting the facts out there. And yeah, I’d love to be a part of the big moments in history, too. See it firsthand and report so people know exactly what went down.” His brown eyes were shining, and I had never seen him get so animated. There was something about seeing someone’s face light up when they were passionate about a subject.

  “Sounds like it’s your calling.”

  “Yeah, well, when your family’s into social causes, it’s like you’re meant to carry on the legacy, and they’d never understand—especially me siding with the enemy? No way.”

  “You should see yourself when you talk about it. Your voice changed; your face lit up. This is something you’re seriously passionate about.”

  “For sure, but my dad would never pay for me to study journalism in college. He’d die first.”

  “What if you took an intro class? Just told him it was a requirement and went from there? Will he check your schedule every semester?” I asked.

  “Knowing him, yeah. There’s a path set for me. I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to get out of it. I have three relatives who are in office, and my younger cousins and I have all done at least one government internship. My brother’s the black sheep of the family for going off to a third world country to help orphans. I think my dad was okay with it because he thinks it looks good for Jayson to care about the needy. Don’t get me wrong, my dad’s a good guy, but he’s always concerned with how we’re coming off to the public.”

  “I bet he loved Lauren,” I said and then slapped my hand over my mouth. Those words were not supposed to come out.

  “Yeah, he did. Why?”

  “Nothing, she just seems like the perfect first lady type.”

  “You aren’t the first person who has said that, and it weirds me out.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “No, I mean, not you saying it, but the idea. You know, I’ve never told anyone other than my brother any of this, but I sit here with you and pour out my guts.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I can’t quite figure you out,” he said. I prayed he didn’t finish the thought with, “So glad I’ve found a therapist in you. You’re like the little sister I never had.”

  “You were trying to figure me out?”

  “All the time.”

  My heart flipped. “And? Any conclusion yet?”

  “Nope, so I’m going to have to spend a lot more time with you,” he said, moving closer. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. Then he kissed me, and I tried not to pass out. The smell of his cologne, the way he held my face—it was like a scene from a movie. This kiss was what romance writers wrote about.

  “Any objections?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “To me spending more time with you.”

  “I think I might be able to work you into my schedule. Have your people call mine,” I said.

  “They told me they’d get back with me and never did.”

  “I’m firing my whole incompetent staff,” I said with a smile. “So looks like I’m free.”

  “Perfect,” he said, and we kissed again.

  Chapter 6

  The next day, Brendon called me about coming over to his house. I was still a little uncomfortable about the idea of hanging out at his place. After all, I had seen it online, and the idea of being around his older brother Jayson, the guy everyone talked about being Mr. Perfection, made me anxious.

  “You know what? There’s a ton of people here right now working on something for my dad, so maybe we could do something else,” he said, and I exhaled. There would be no anxiety attack today.

  “Oh, yeah, if it’s busy. I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “I go for a walk in our neighborhood every night. You want to go with me? I could pick you up after seven.”

  “Sure.”

  My neighborhood was nice, but his was gated. His area was also close to downtown Birmingham, so we could walk there if we wanted, or we could go over to the pond on the last street of the neighborhood. There was also a cemetery nearby, but we avoided it and stuck to walking by Sacred Heart, his old grade school.

  “My brother wants to move out of the house and go someplace more modern. My mom’s the same way. She thinks our house is too old.”

  “Isn’t your house a landmark or something?”

  “Not quite, but it was owned by one of the old car guys in Detroit. Well, his son anyway. My mom is always talking about wanting someplace new and decorating it the way she wants, but I like this area. My dad calls it an ‘established neighborhood.’”

  “Huh?”

  “Older houses and lots of trees. Seems like all the new areas have zero trees.”

  “Oh, I hate those new subdivisions, which are all open with no trees. I love those big houses you can’t even see from the street because there are so many trees hiding them.”

  “Exactly. I hate the idea of everyone being able to see in—like living in a fishbowl,” Brendon said, staring out at the pond.

  “Is that kind of how you feel now?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s why my dad and I like the fact our house is tucked away. My mom’s into that life. Big open windows, everyone watching. Not my thing to have people staring
at me.” He reached over and took my hand. “I love how I can tell you anything.”

  “Always.”

  He leaned his head against mine. “So how was your grandma today?”

  “She slept the entire time I was there. The nurses said she had a rough night and to let her sleep. I’m going back tomorrow and praying she’ll be more alert.”

  He dropped my hand and reached for his wallet. “Here. One of my dad’s supporters gave this to me the night my dad was re-elected. It’s a prayer card of the Divine Mercy. Sometimes when I’m anxious I repeat the phrase on the front, ‘Jesus, I trust in you.’ Maybe it would help your grandma to say it, too.”

  “Thanks. I’ve never seen this before. I’ll take it with me tomorrow.”

  “What’s weird is I remember the supporter’s name—it was Emilia, but everyone called her Emme. Maybe it’s a sign, huh?”

  “Well, I do believe in signs.”

  At first I didn’t think much of the Emme/Emilia thing until I was visiting Grandma in the hospital the next afternoon. She always kept a stack of worn prayer books and her rosary by her bed at home, so we had brought them to the hospital for her. She had gotten into this habit where she just liked to hold the rosary and the prayer cards.

  “Emme, will you hand me my…my…” Lately she had problems finishing some of her sentences, which frustrated her. The doctor said she probably had a mini-stroke we weren’t aware of, which had caused the speech problem. I always tried to figure out what she wanted because I hated seeing her get upset over not being able to get a sentence out.

  “The rosary?” I asked, but she shook her head and sighed. Her big green eyes fixed on mine. I was the only one in the family who had any green in my eyes like she did. My mom and aunt took after my grandpa and had deep-blue eyes. “Do you want the devotional?” I picked up the book and about twenty little prayer cards fell on the floor.

  “Sorry Grandma—” I stopped when I saw a card on the floor that said Divine Mercy. I had never seen her with one before, and I flipped it over. It said “St. Faustina” on the back.

  “Where did you get this card?” I asked.

  She tried to say “Faustina,” but it wasn’t going to happen. She sighed and said, “It’s Polish.” She put her hand on mine and pushed it toward me. “Keep it.”

  “I brought you one from my friend. It’s the same prayer, but it has a picture of Jesus on the front. See?”

  She nodded smiling and said, “Oh yes, it’s beautiful.”

  “He wanted me to give it to you.”

  She held it up to her heart. I noticed she was getting drowsy and decided to call my dad for a ride home. Just as I was about to dial, Brendon called.

  “What’s up? You busy?” he asked.

  I said I was still at the hospital, and he asked if I wanted to go grocery shopping with him.

  “I have to pick up stuff for my grandparents, and it’d be more fun if you went with me. C’mon, please? I’ll even stop at the Milky Palace afterward for ice cream,” he said. Grandma always took me there for a dipped cone after I went to the store with her, but I’d never told him.

  “Sure, you want to pick me up in the front? Take the east entrance or else you’ll end up in the ambulance zone,” I said.

  “New boyfriend?” Grandma asked as I hung up. “What’s he like?”

  “Well, his name is Brendon, and we do have different interests, but somehow we kind of seem in sync with each other. Sometimes I’m able to tell when he’s about to call before the phone rings.”

  She nodded. “You had a different sort of smile on your face, so I knew it wasn’t just a friend. Haven’t seen you smile big in a while.”

  “He’s thoughtful. He asks about you and what I’m into.”

  Grandma tilted her head to the side. “Don’t all boyfriends do that?”

  “John never did. I guess looking back it was all about him.”

  “Never liked him,” she said, moving her hand to dismiss the whole idea.

  “Wish I could say the same thing,” I said, biting my lip. John had had too much of a hold over me for way too long.

  “You have fun. I’m going to rest now. So tired.”

  I went downstairs, and Brendon texted me he was in the parking lot.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but I read my horoscope today. It said a Leo would bring a sunny outlook into my life today, and my lucky number for the day is three,” he said, pointing to my shirt, which was a yellow jersey with the number three on it.

  “You read your horoscope? Since when?”

  “Sometimes I glance over at the section while I’m reading the news. By the way, yours said a hot Cancer will sweep you off your feet and bring nothing but happiness and rainbows to your life.”

  “Interesting, because when I read it this morning it said to avoid misunderstandings and there could be a plumbing disaster waiting to happen. Maybe I missed the part about rainbows and the hot Cancer.”

  “You obviously didn’t turn the page,” he said, laughing.

  “My mistake.”

  “But there was a plumbing disaster at my house. Jayson overflowed the bathtub, and my mom was furious. I think he was having another argument with his girlfriend while filling the tub, and he got distracted. Those two are either breaking up or making up—it’s exhausting listening to them. That’s what I like about you—you’re not some high-drama girl.”

  “All the girls in your circle are, though,” I said. “Not trying to be a jerk, but…”

  “Oh no, you’re right. They are, so I appreciate how you’re different.”

  “Bored with your group now?” I asked.

  “Nope, just…I was going to say, ‘Looking to upgrade,’ but it sounds horrible, doesn’t it?” he said laughing.

  I cracked up. “I get where you were trying to go with it, but yeah, it sounds bad. I’ll pretend it’s a compliment and not a sexist thing.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, like a trade-in for a car or a guy with a trophy girlfriend, I just meant…” His face got red, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. The way you’re so open about things. There’s this vulnerability about you—”

  “Naïve and immature like a little kid,” I said, turning away. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “No, not what I meant. You’re sensitive and caring—“

  “Now I’m too sensitive? I don’t—”

  “No, Emme, I wasn’t trying to say you were being too sensitive—I meant you’re sensitive to other people’s feelings, and when I said vulnerable I meant it as a positive thing.”

  I shrugged.

  He put his hand over mine. “Being vulnerable is a good thing.”

  “Since when?”

  “Well, for me it’s nice to be around someone who is real as opposed to the fake people who have social media perfect lives when I know the real crap going on behind closed doors. You share what you feel—you don’t hide it. It’s an amazing quality to be open and show your feelings. I admire it since I grew up in a family who lives by the rule ‘Put on a good face no matter what’s happening.’”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “You know I’d never talk down to you or anything. I want to be clear. I meant everything I said in the best possible way. Emme, it’d kill me to think you thought I was trying to hurt your feelings in any way.”

  He squinted his eyes and bit his lip as he waited for my reaction.

  “I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose, but some people say stuff not realizing how it might impact the other person. Maybe I am a little naïve or whatever,” I said.

  “Did someone tell you that?”

  “Yeah, my ex. He always made me feel so young and…whatever.” I didn’t want to drag out my whole past relationship and let Brendon know how I felt inexperienced and unworthy. Right now he didn’t know what I was like last year, seeing as we didn’t run in the same circles. He had no idea I had been cheated on and how my self-confidence had been trashed. I felt
sick thinking about the time I asked John what was so wrong with me to make him go back to his ex.

  “Well, he’s an idiot,” Brendon said.

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “He let you go, so I’m guessing he’s not going to be working at NASA anytime soon.”

  “Well, this is true.”

  “You know what’s crazy? Your horoscope said something about misunderstandings. That’s kind of weird.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I said, although it’s no weirder than the fact every time we hung up on the phone I had noticed the same number combination of how long we talked. But I’d never tell him because he’d think I was a weirdo.

  “I guess we should head to the store, huh?” he said. “My mom’s going to wonder where her stuff is.”

  “I’m so glad this is our last week of class,” I said.

  “Oh, right, I meant to tell you I get to miss the last week. It just got cleared with Mrs. Rae because I’m going with my dad to Virginia on Wednesday—right after class gets out.”

  I wanted to ask for how long, and I found myself feeling insecure. Would I sound clingy asking? After all, we had never defined what we were, so did I have a right to ask?

  “It’s just this thing he has to go to because a guy my grandpa worked with is having a library named after him. Grandpa can’t go in his condition, so Dad is going in his place.”

  “Should be interesting.”

  “Will you miss me?” he asked.

  I glanced over at him, and he was doing the crooked smile, which made every girl’s heart melt.

  “Maybe,” I said and then wanted to slap myself for being so stupid. Maybe? Seriously? That was my answer?

  “I am wounded. To the core. Maybe? Wow, okay. Now I know how you feel about me,” he said as he pulled into a parking spot.

  “Well, I’ll miss having someone to play tennis with. Hey, is your friend Sam going to be around? He plays, right?” I asked, smiling to try and lighten the mood.

  “Oh, ha ha. Great, my girlfriend and my best friend hooking up behind my back. Nice.”

  “Girlfriend?” I said and wanted to slap myself for the second time. Was it possible for me to be mysterious, or did I have to blurt out whatever crap came into mind? Lauren wouldn’t have burst out without thinking or come off so needy, asking him to define their relationship. She always seemed in control.