Usually, I can stomach what's sure to come from double dates with him, but I've officially lost my appetite.
As my date attempts to rub her hand against my crotch again, I stand and toss my napkin onto the table.
"I'll be right back," I say, walking away without waiting for a response. I head straight for the parking lot and slide behind the wheel of my car. Before I can shut my door, Zach grabs it and holds it open.
"Are you about to leave?" He looks as if this is a life or death matter.
"Yeah. Sorry. Something came up."
"Bullshit, Liam. What's up with you?"
"I'm just not feeling it tonight."
"Of course, you're not feeling it. You're not even trying to work with me here. They're best friends. Best. Friends."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Because if it doesn't work out for you and your girl tonight, then I won't get her friend."
I shake my head, completely confused as to who he is right now.
"Zach," I say, sighing. "Are you really this obsessed with girls?"
"Are you really asking me that question?" He deadpans. "Yes. Does that mean you're coming back inside?"
"Not at all." I crank the engine. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait, wait ... Give me two minutes." He rushes away before I can say no, so I shut the door and wait.
Five minutes pass and he returns with carry-out boxes.
"Switch seats with me," he says." No offense, but I feel like you're too 'emo' to drive right now."
"I'm fine, Zach."
He gives me a blank stare and I unbuckle my seatbelt — moving to the passenger seat. He pulls the car out of the parking lot and speeds down the street.
"Now, because of that stunt you pulled back there, I didn't box up your dessert. That shit is mine."
"Oh, the horror."
"I know." He laughs and then he softens his tone in a way that makes me believe he's going to attempt to be serious. "You know; it didn't hit me until you walked out, that I haven't talked to you outside of practice or a double date for weeks. And I know you probably miss me a lot because were best friends, but —"
"Drop me off in the ditch to the right, please. I'll walk the rest of the way home."
He laughs again. "I was kidding."
"I was hoping so."
He speeds down the edge of Blue Harbor's Central Park and pulls down the back road that stretches for ten miles straight. He changes the radio station from rock to his favorite — classical music.
"I forget sometimes that you're a lot smarter than you act," I say.
"A 3.9 GPA is just as good as a 4.0 GPA." He puts the car on cruise control and opens his box of food. "So, what's up? What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing is wrong with me," I say. "I just have a lot going on between basketball and shit."
"Shit like what?"
"My parents, college selection, Mar—" I clear my throat. I am not telling him about Mariah. Ever. "March madness."
"It's not even spring yet."
"Yeah, but you know we're going to get all types of coverage from the reporters around that time."
"And I'm very much looking forward to that."
"I'm not," I say, ready to get this over with. "I'm not interested in playing basketball beyond high school and I'm tired of people acting as if that's what's best for me. This shit used to be fun but I never wanted it to be more than that ... And believe it or not, I actually want to be a —"
"Doctor?" He asks, making me look over at him. "I can totally see that shit. I used to joke with you about that, remember? At team physicals, you spent more time asking the doctors questions about school than completing your own tests."
"You wouldn't feel let down if I didn't join you at Duke?"
"Of course not. More attention for me."
I roll my eyes and he laughs.
"Seriously though, Liam. Fuck everyone else. You have nothing left to prove to anyone and you're my only real friend, so I wouldn’t dare hold something like that against you."
"You know, that actually sounded somewhat intelligent."
"I mean, I'm going to beg you to finish what's left of our season because I get way more girls when they find out that 'Mr. Popular' is joining us for a night out, but other than that? No harm, no foul. No pun intended."
"I rescind my last statement." I laugh for the first time tonight. "I'm definitely finishing the season."
"Good. And since we're actually talking about serious shit tonight, I have a serious question for you."
"I'm listening."
"Are you gay?"
What the fuck? "What?"
"I mean, I personally don't care, but if my best friend is gay, I feel like I should know. I actually know a few guys on the Red Sharks team who are not 'out' yet, so maybe if you —"
"Shut the hell up, Zach." I can't help but laugh again. "No, I'm not gay, but good to know you're not a homophobe."
He shrugs. "Can't hate me for asking. But you know, I think if you had a girlfriend, you'd be way less miserable."
"We've agreed that you should never give relationship advice. To anyone."
"Just hear me out on this for five minutes."
"Two minutes."
"Fine." He smiles. "You're one of the good guys. Like, you actually want to get to know a girl and take her out and stuff."
"What a crime."
"It's a waste of time, but that's not the point. Point is, if you had someone you could talk to all the time and someone you could sleep with, of course, I don't think everything that's bothering you right now would matter so much. You'd be too pre-occupied with your girlfriend to pay attention to anything else. And I mean, I would get one myself but that scenario makes no sense for me, but it's practically designed for someone like you."
"Thank you, Zach. I really needed those wise words, from you of all people."
Laughing, he takes the car off of cruise control and speeds down the road. "Let's find something at the dock to do for the rest of the night, like old times."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all. It'll just be the two of us. Until midnight."
"What's at midnight?"
"Sex with Sarah.” He gives me a “duh” look. “Do you really think I’m going to end this night talking to you?”
I laugh. “I really can’t believe we’re best friends sometimes.”
“I know.” Zach laughs, too. “Mariah can’t believe it either.”
11
Mariah
I slip inside the front seat of Zach’s car. As soon as I secure my seatbelt, I feel his eyes on me.
“What?” I say.
“Seriously, Mariah? I’ve been sitting in this parking lot waiting on you for over twenty minutes. We only have a few minutes to get to the bakery.”
“You’re never in this much of a hurry to work at the bakery, so why today of all days?”
“First of all, you told me you were ready an hour ago and that was clearly a lie.” He pulls off onto the street. “Second of all, it’s not my turn to work at the bakery.”
What the hell?
I face him and narrow my eyes. “Zach, I helped out three days this week and for two weekends in a row. It’s your turn. Period.
He stops at a red light and opens the glove box, pulling out his wallet. He takes out four twenty dollar bills and holds them in front of me.
“Eighty bucks says it’s your turn. Period.”
“It’s my turn.” I take the money from him. “Period.”
He laughs and speeds down the road. When we’re halfway there, his phone buzzes and he attempts to read the text, but I snatch it from him.
“I dare you,” I say, unlocking the screen. “It’s not that serious.”
“Sorry ...” Guilt immediately drips from his voice. “I don’t do it often.”
“I’m sure.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll read it for you.”
I tap on the screen and click “read new mes
sage,” my eyes widening with every word.
Where are you, Zach? It reads. You said you were going to fuck me at 3:00 and you’re an hour late. I’m still wet though, just let me know :- )
I toss the phone into the backseat and he bursts into laughter.
“I’m going to act like I never saw that, Zach.”
“Good.” He’s still laughing. “You should.”
We go the rest of the ride with the radio playing, with me realizing that my brother is probably a man-whore.
When we arrive at the shop, I get out of the car and shake my head at him before shutting the door. The second I step inside Dawson’s beautiful glass doors, my mom pops up from behind the counter.
“Hey, you!” She says. “I thought it was Zach’s day?”
“It was ... He negotiated a switch.”
She shrugs and sets a fresh set of brownies on the counter. “I’ve got two deliveries in an hour and one of them is to the Jordan’s. Ashley is having a small party to celebrate her award."
I roll my eyes at the idea of Ashley Jordan eating my mom's cupcakes and claiming them as her own.
"What award?" Future gold diggers don't get awards.
"She got into Princeton."
“How the f-” I stop myself. “How?”
I’ve never seen Ashley Jordan with a book in her hands, unless she was using it to hide her mouth as she gossiped. (Or, unless it was written by a reality TV star.)
“The same way everyone else gets into college, Mariah.” She actually looks serious. “She made good grades and studied hard.”
I wait for her to laugh and say, “Just kidding! Her parents paid her way by being donors because that’s the only way that girl would ever step foot on a college campus,” but shockingly that punchline never comes.
Instead, she slides me her task notebook and tells me to put on an apron.
“You’ve got lots of batter to make,” she says. “Get busy.”
I slip into my usual black and yellow apron — the one that says “Daddy’s Girl,” and read over the list.
Birthday Cake Cupcakes ... Strawberry Dream Tarts ... Falling for You Brownies ... Peanut Butter Truffles.
I walk into the massive pantry that takes up the back wall and stack all of the ingredients onto a dolly. I wheel it all to the prep station and slip into the walk-in refrigerator for the eggs and milk.
As I’m searching for the frosting, I hear the bells over the front door ring and let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps Kelsey has had a disaster date and we’ll spend the next five hours talking about it as she helps me.
I step out and set the food down, rushing back to the front of the store, but I don’t see Kelsey at all.
It’s Liam. And he’s shirtless.
Why the hell is he here?
“I called some back-up for you, Mariah,” my mom says, grabbing her car keys. “I know you hate being here alone and Liam was willing to use his one off-practice day to help.”
“How nice of him.” I mutter.
He raises his eyebrow at me, as if he heard that, pulling a Blue Harbor tee over his bare chest.
She kisses my cheek and gives a small smile to Liam. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
We both watch her as she leaves and slips into her minivan. We even watch her drive down the street until she disappears from sight.
Seconds later, he finally turns and faces me.
“Where do you want me?”
I hesitate before answering. That sounded slightly dirty and I’m not sure why.
“Today, Mariah,” he says, “I’m the one being nice and helping you.”
“You can do the brownie and truffle batter,” I say, heading toward the back.
Those are the two most difficult batters because my mom includes tons of extra steps to hide her “trade secret.”
Liam doesn’t say anything in return as he follows me into the prep area. He simply ties an apron around his waist and sets out the ingredients he needs.
Shrugging, I take everything I’ll need and move far away from him to the back of the kitchen. I even put in my earbuds.
For a full hour, neither of us says a word to each other. We don’t even glance in each other’s direction.
When I’ve listened to as much Tori Kelly as I can take for the day, I take out my earbuds and notice Liam standing right next to me. Staring at me.
“What are you doing?” I jump back.
“You’re using too much sugar.”
“No, I’m not.” I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I know my mom’s recipe.”
“Maybe you used to,” he says, shaking his head at my concoction. “But I’m willing to bet you used too much.”
Annoyed, I take a swipe of batter with my finger and taste it- immediately wincing as the overload of sugar hits my tongue.
“Exactly.” He grabs my bowl and dumps the butter into the trash.
“I’ll help you so we can get out of here.”
Without saying another word, he measures the correct amount of sugar and hands it to me. Then he begins mixing the dough, as I remake the filling.
He leans against the counter as he works, as he keeps his eyes on me, but I don’t return the gaze.
I keep my eyes focused on the right amount of whipped cream and chocolate filling. But when the scent of his alluring and intoxicating cologne whiffs toward me, I look up at him.
“Can we talk about something?” I ask, ready to finally deal with this. “Like, right now?”
“I can’t stop you from talking, Mariah. You can say whatever you want.”
“Right, well ...” I sigh. “It’s about the other night.”
“What other night?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Liam. The other night at the party.” I lower my voice as if someone is near us. “When you kissed me.”
His lips curve up into a smirk, but he doesn’t reply.
“So you do know?” I set down my bowl. “Anyway, I didn’t appreciate it.”
“What exactly didn’t you appreciate?”
“Everything.”
“Everything means nothing unless you’re specific.”
“It was wrong.” I glance at him. “It was completely and utterly wrong. Not only did you kiss me in the middle of an argument — against my wishes, but it was highly inappropriate because you’re my brother’s best friend. And also —”
“First of all,” he says, taking the spoon from my hands, “I didn’t kiss you. It was vice versa, and I’m pretty sure you’ve wished for me to do more than just kiss you before.”
My jaw drops.
“Second of all,” he says, looking so smug I could punch him. “I’m not sure if highly inappropriate are the correct terms to describe it, but I’m very aware that you’re my best friend’s little sister.
“That’s my whole point, if you were truly aware, you would never done that.”
“Trust me, I’ll never do it again.”
“Good.” I snatch my spoon away from him. “But for the record, the next time you kiss a girl — actually, before you kiss your next victim, you may want to work on your technique.”
“What?” He looks offended.
“You heard me.”
“You want to give me advice on how to kiss someone?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Starting with toning your cockiness down. That ruins most kisses before they even start.”
“This is coming from someone who’s kissed four people in her lifetime.”
“Five.”
“Kelsey doesn’t count.”
“I’ve never kissed Kelsey,” I say. “And I don’t have to kiss over fifty people, like you, to know what makes a kiss good or not.”
He’s rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “Fine, Mariah. I mean, Connoisseur of kissing, please tell me how I can do better.”
“Well, like I said before, tone down the cockiness. That’s one. Number two, ask the girl if she’s interested in kissing you — don’t just assum
e that she is.”
“You literally expect me to say, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes. Third —” I gasp as he slips an arm around my waist. “What are you doing?”
“You said yes.” His eyes lock onto mine. “What’s the third thing?”
My heart skips a beat and I temporarily lose my train of thought.
“Ryah.” His voice is low. “What’s the third thing I can improve on?”
“Right um ...” I swallow. “The third thing is to — to go slower. You shouldn’t’ kiss a girl like it’s the last kiss you’ll ever get from her.”
“Even if I thought it was?”
“Yes.” My heart skips a beat again as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.”
“Is there a fourth thing?”
“There’s a fourth, fifth and sixth.”
“Make it quick.”
“Four is ...” I suck in a breath as he gently presses his lips against mine, as he pulls me even closer — kissing me slow and gently, like I’ve never been kissed before.
“Am I kissing you right?” He whispers at my mouth, making me weak in the knees. “Is it like this?”
I shut my eyes as his tongue meets mine again, as he runs his fingers through my hair. He whispers something I can’t quite understand at my lips and as I struggle to maintain my balance, the sound of bells ringing immediately makes us tear apart from each other.
“Mariah! Liam!” My mom calls. “Could you two help me unload for a few minutes?”
“Be right there,” Liam says, answering for us both. He looks me up and down, and for some reason there’s a hint of hurt in his eyes.
“That kiss,” he says, stepping back. “Did happen.”
THIRD SUMMER PART 1
Mariah
I’m walking towards the new pool at camp, adjusting my swimsuit every step of the way. It’s the one thing I’ve been looking forward to all year, that, and the fact that I’ll no longer be the youngest girl at camp. (Oh, and that Madison is a peer counselor now, so she has to be assigned to a completely different bunk than me.)
Don’t get me wrong, I do get along with the older girls for the most part now, but they’re all really different from me and I’ve always felt more like a third wheel whenever I hang out with them.
This summer, there’s a handful of girls my own age assigned to the same cabin as me. I was expecting to find them unpacking when I arrived earlier, but the only thing I found was a bunch of suitcases.
Mr. Popular: A Falling For My Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 9