Flirting with Boys

by Hailey Abbott

  Onstage, Sloan opened his eyes and stared right at Celeste as he finished the song. His black eyes were piercing. As the last wailing notes of the guitar died away, everyone was silent for a moment before breaking into scattered applause. The band put down their instruments and started wiping their foreheads and gulping from bottles of water. Sloan turned to confer with the drummer. Nick stood up and turned to look at her. “Okay, what do you think?”

  Celeste nodded. “That was amazing,” she said slowly.

  “I thought so too,” Nick agreed. “Should we book them?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.” He turned and headed toward the stage. Celeste trailed a little ways behind. She was surprised to find her palms sweating a little. She’d never really dealt with business contacts outside of Pinyon. And Sloan, as they approached, looked intimidatingly tall and aloof, with his prominent hipbones encased in worn black leather.

  Nick, however, seemed unfazed. He hopped onto the edge of the stage like he talked to burgeoning rock stars all the time. The band took as much notice of them as if they’d been crumpled gum wrappers on the floor. Nick cleared his throat. Sloan put down his microphone and walked to the opposite side of the stage to adjust one of the dials on an amp. Celeste cast Nick a worried look, but his face was neutral.

  “Hey,” Nick said politely. No one even glanced at them. Celeste was starting to feel remarkably stupid just standing at the front of the stage. She felt like she had the day she’d tried ask Brian Hellman to be her boyfriend on the playground in fifth grade. He had proceeded to laugh at her and then tell all her friends.

  “Nick,” she murmured. “I don’t think they’re interested.”

  “Don’t worry,” he muttered back. Then he raised his voice. “Hey!” he almost shouted. His voice echoed in the empty space. Sloan turned around slowly. He stared at them for what felt to Celeste like a long, long moment. The other members of the band also stopped talking and turned to stare.

  “Yeah?” Sloan said finally.

  Nick offered a wide, toothy smile. “You guys sounded great.”

  Sloan looked bored. Nick plowed ahead, apparently unfazed. “We’d like to book you for our party at the Pinyon resort.”

  The singer waved his hand. “We don’t do Sweet Sixteens, kid,” he sniffed. “Thanks for coming, though.” He turned back to the amp. Celeste felt like she’d been slapped in the face. She turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Nick whispered, catching at her arm. She glared at him.

  “I’m getting out of here—this guy is totally not interested in us. Let’s just leave,” she pleaded.

  Nick’s eyes narrowed and his dark blond eyebrows knit together. “No way,” he said firmly, and, still hanging on to Celeste’s arm, he clambered right up onto the dusty, scarred wooden stage. Celeste just managed to scramble up after him.

  As the other band members watched in astonishment, Nick strode right to the other end of the stage and tapped Sloan on the shoulder. He turned around and, seeing who it was, rolled his eyes. Nick ignored this.

  “I don’t think you heard me just now,” Nick said pleasantly. To Celeste’s ears, he sounded as calm as someone ordering brunch at an outdoor café. “We’re planning a party at the Pinyon Ranch for the Palm Springs Film Festival. This is going to be a big deal, so I’m not sure why you’re not interested in gaining some exposure for your band.” He gestured around the space. “What are you going to pull in tonight—a hundred people? Maybe one fifty?” Sloan’s mouth was slightly open. Nick went on. “We’re expecting over five hundred at the festival, and all of them will see your name on our promotional material. And we’re talking entertainment insiders, not kids on summer vacation. But if you’re not interested, no problem. We can easily find someone else.”

  Celeste’s jaw dropped. That boy had balls! Who would have guessed that pretty boy Nick could face down Marilyn Manson Two? And he was being polite about it, even though the guy was obviously a total jerk. Sloan looked equally surprised but quickly regained his composure.

  “We really don’t have any interest in private parties,” he sneered, his nostrils flaring.

  “We’ll double whatever fee you’re getting for tonight’s performance.”

  Celeste coughed. Nick was going to flatten their music budget—and probably the rest of the budget too. “Nick,” she whispered, resisting the urge to tug at his sleeve. He ignored her.

  The singer seemed to actually be considering Nick’s offer. He dug a little black notebook out of his pocket and flipped through it, licking his forefinger each time he flipped one of the onionskin pages and muttering to himself. He fished out a stubby little pencil and poised it over one of the pages “All right,” he said. “It’ll be a waste of a night. When’s your party?”

  Celeste tried to restrain herself from jumping up and down right there on the scarred black stage, but Nick didn’t even blink as he gave Sloan the details about where and when and promised to e-mail the info as well. Celeste thought she could detect just a hint of flush in his cheeks though.

  They confirmed the band’s contact information, then made their escape. As they shoved open the heavy metal door and stepped out onto the sidewalk in a flood of bright sunlight, Celeste threw her arms around Nick. “That was amazing!”

  “Thanks,” he said. Suddenly, Celeste realized what she was doing. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her arms, and their faces were only a few inches apart. She dropped her arms fast and backed away, tripping a little on a raised part of the sidewalk.

  “Um, yeah,” she said, pointlessly brushing her hair back from her face even though it was in a ponytail. “No, seriously, that was really good.”

  Nick shrugged. “Come on, the car’s this way.” He started heading down the sidewalk. “Honestly, it’s not hard to get someone to listen to you. I hate that people always feel like they can blow off teenagers. I’ve learned that you just have to be polite, even if they’re being rude. And you know he was totally bluffing about not being interested. He put your name in a song! That guy just enjoys being an ass.”

  “Yeah,” Celeste said thoughtfully. Suddenly, she remembered what Nick had offered to pay them and felt herself deflate. “But, um, Nick, we’ll never be able to afford them.”

  Nick didn’t look concerned. “Yeah, we will. What, do you think I’d willingly break our budget? I’m not stupid, you know. I actually do know what a budget is.” As they walked down the decaying block, he dug a piece of paper from his pocket. “One of my buddies keeps a website for music managers that lists what different venues pay. I took a look at it before we came over.” He unfolded the paper and handed it to Celeste. “See? This place only pays one fifty. I mean, look at it. You’re local and you’ve never been there before. We can totally afford three hundred for music.”

  Celeste glanced at the paper and looked carefully at Nick, who was ambling along the sidewalk. His white T-shirt clung to his wiry chest, and his straight blond hair was falling in his eyes as usual. It was nice having someone else take care of things once in a while, she thought. Instead of chasing Travis around, trying to pick up the pieces of his various screwups. No, stop. Travis is awesome and fun, she reminded herself hastily.

  They reached the Alfa Romeo, parked halfway up on the curb and directly in front of a giant NO PARKING ANY TIME sign.

  “Wow. I guess you’re not quite as good at parking as you are at negotiating,” Celeste teased.

  “That sign was totally not there before,” Nick insisted, his eyes wide.

  Celeste slid into the front seat and Nick started the engine. “So, do you know how to get back to the resort from here?” she asked. “I have no idea.”

  “Totally,” Nick reassured her. “I’ll just go back the same way I came.” The car thumped off the curb and he pulled into the street.

  “Um, Nick?” Celeste said after a minute. “This is a one-way street. And you’re going the wrong way.”

  “Damn!” Ni
ck dragged the steering wheel over to one side and executed a perfect U-turn in the middle of the street. He turned onto another one-way street, this one deserted and lined with trash cans.

  “Do you see a street sign?” he asked, peering up at the corner.

  “Um, no. I think this is an alley. Why don’t we try that way?” She pointed ahead, where they could see busy cars crossing a wide boulevard.

  “Good idea.” Nick floored the accelerator and the car shot ahead.

  “By the way,” Celeste said, “I’m glad you know where you’re going, because I am totally turned around. Plus, all the signs are in Spanish now.”

  “Crap,” Nick said, looking behind him and trying to switch lanes. “I have a confession. I have no idea where we are. Or how to use the GPS thing.” He peered at the endless streets around them, with colorful signs in Spanish and bodegas and cell-phone shops lining the sidewalks. Suddenly, Celeste pointed ahead.

  “Hey,” she said. “Is that a park?” At the end of the street, they could see an expanse of grass and, just beyond it, a glimmer of blue water.

  “It definitely is. And it looks like there’s a little lake or something.” Nick glanced over at Celeste. “How about a break?”

  Celeste resisted the urge to look at her watch. She was technically due back at the resort right after the band audition, according to her father, but the water ahead looked so tempting. And didn’t she deserve a little break during her summer of hard slogging? She glanced over at Nick. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s do it.” Every one of her brain cells knew this was a bad idea. But none of them stopped her from jumping out of the car.

  Chapter Eighteen

  They’d pulled up on a little strip of asphalt near the park. The noise and traffic of the city blared behind them, but if Celeste faced forward, all she could see was smooth green grass and gravel paths. The lake Nick had pointed out lapped at the grassy bank about fifty feet way. A sign near them read RATHBONE MEMORIAL PARK. The place was almost totally deserted. Just a few figures were scattered across the green, strolling with dogs, or sitting on blankets. Celeste inhaled as the breeze lifted her ponytail.

  The car door slammed next to her, and suddenly Nick grabbed her hand. “Come on!” he said, and raced her toward the lake.

  Celeste paused at the edge of the small lake. The gray-blue water glimmered in the sun. Peering forward, she could just make out a sandy bottom under the ripples. She kicked off her flip-flops and waded in, letting the cool water splash around her ankles. Behind her, Nick was laboriously unlacing his sneakers. “Come on!” she shouted. “This is why you have to wear flip-flops!”

  “Just wait until I get over there,” Nick shouted back. “You’ll be sorry you ever met me.”

  “I already am!” Celeste called. Turning, she waded a little deeper, holding the skirt of her sundress up around her thighs, careful not flash Nick. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms grabbed her around the waist from behind and Nick lifted her high into the air. Celeste screamed and Nick flung her over one shoulder and started striding deeper into the water. “I’m going to kill you!” Celeste yelled, beating on his back with her fists. She thought of her white sundress and (gulp) white underwear—and no bra—and said a brief, fervent prayer that he wouldn’t drop her in the water. Luckily, Nick spun her around a few times and then set her on her feet in the knee-deep water.

  “Oh, you’re going to get it now,” Celeste said, advancing slowly toward him. She kicked at the water.

  “Hey!” he protested, looking down at his wet shirt. “How can you expect me to not get you back for that?”

  Celeste laughed and turned, running away as best she could in the water, lifting both her skirt and her knees high. Nick splashed after her, and she tried to run faster. She felt his fingers graze her back and then suddenly, there was an even bigger splash and she felt a wave of water hit her back. She looked behind her but there was no Nick.

  “Nick?” she called, looking around. Nothing. “Nick?” she called again. Still nothing. Suddenly, with a heave, he emerged from the water, dripping and totally soaked. His shorts hung off him, running with water, and his shirt was transparent.

  Celeste choked a little and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. He looked so forlorn, standing there with his hair plastered to his head. A few chortles escaped her and finally, she gave in, laughing so hard she had to double over and hold her stomach for a minute.

  Nick just stood there while she laughed, his hands hanging at his sides and a woebegone expression on his face. When her giggles finally petered out, he looked at her through the wet strands of hair over his eyes. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to laugh at those less fortunate than you?”

  Celeste swallowed another set of giggles and held out her hand. “I’m sorry—you just look really funny.” Privately, she was thankful that it was Nick who was standing there soaked in water and not her. At least his pants weren’t see-through.

  Nick took her hand and together, they sloshed through the water back to the bank. Nick dropped to the grass. “Let’s hang out for a minute and I’ll let my clothes dry.” He stripped off his shirt and wrung it out, spreading it in the sun next to him.

  “Um…” Celeste looked at her watch, trying not to stare at his lean chest and ropy, corded arms. “I should probably be getting back.”

  Nick patted the ground next to him. “Ten minutes. I can’t get back into the Alfa Romeo this wet—if I drip on that leather, my dad will disown me.” He tried to squeeze some water out of his shorts.

  Celeste sank down and carefully stretched her wet legs out in front of her. The grass prickled against the backs of her calves. She lay back and stared at the endless blue sky vaulting overhead. It did feel good to just veg out here, with only the sound of the breeze in her ears, and no one asking her for a clean towel or a glass of water with only limes and no lemons. Nick lay down next to her and tucked his hands under his head. For a long moment, they were just quiet.

  Then Nick asked, “So, what’s the story with you two anyway?” Celeste’s eyes sprang open. She raised her head.

  “What?”

  “What’s the deal with you two?”

  “Who?”

  “You and Travis.”

  She lowered her head warily and affected nonchalance. “What do you mean, what’s the deal? He’s my boyfriend.” She could hear a little tension entering her voice. A couple of days of getting along and now he’s going to bring up Travis. Great.

  Nick’s eyes were shut tight against the sun and his face was expressionless. “I just wouldn’t put the two of you together, you know, if you asked me.” His voice was soft and calm, but something about it irritated Celeste. She sat up.

  “What are you talking about? Travis is a really nice guy, for your information. We’ve been together almost a year now.” Her voice rose at the end.

  “Okay, that’s cool.” Nick still didn’t move or open his eyes. “I’m just kind of surprised you’re into him. He doesn’t seem that bright.”

  “What?” Now Celeste’s voice rose into a screech. “Who are you to be talking about bright? As far as I can tell, all you ever do is lie around, flirt with girls, and play with your daddy’s money.”

  Nick flinched as if she’d hit him. He didn’t say anything. Celeste got to her feet and dusted off the rear of her dress. The sun felt like it was baking her face, and the wind had picked up. It whistled hotly past her face like the air in an oven.

  “I want to go back,” Celeste said tightly.

  “Fine.” He got up, not looking at her.

  The asphalt burned under her feet as Celeste tramped back across the grass to the car. She stood by the locked door of the car, waiting for Nick and fuming. How dare he insult Travis like that? Here she’d been thinking that they were working really well together planning the party, and then the minute she’d let her guard down, he’d swooped right in and started trying to make trouble between her and Travis again.

  The car beeped and she
looked across the parking lot. Nick had unlocked it with his remote. She slid into the baking interior and sat there with the door open. Nick climbed in and started the engine. Silently, he tossed two wet objects into her lap. Celeste looked down at them, confused, before she recognized her discarded flip-flops.

  “I had my personal valet pick these up for you,” Nick said, looking behind him to back out of the parking lot. “It’s what all of us lazy rich boys do.”

  Silently, Celeste slipped them onto her feet. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed out the window at the highway slipping by.

  The silence lay thickly over the car. They passed a sign for Highway 95 and Nick turned onto it. In twenty minutes, they were pulling through the main gates of the guesthouse. Neither of them had spoken a single word since leaving the park. Nick pulled up in front of the main building and Celeste put her hand on the door handle, ready to jump out as soon as he stopped the car.

  He braked and she swung open the door. “Wait,” he said suddenly, putting his hand on her bare knee. Celeste hesitated. She just wanted to get out of there, but Nick’s face looked so plaintive that she reluctantly swung her leg back into the car and faced him again.

  “What?” she said.

  He took his hand off her knee. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry—I was an idiot back there. I just talk out of my ass sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Celeste snapped. But Nick didn’t flare up. He just stared at his lap until Celeste felt a little bad for her ungracious response.

  “Whatever’s going on with you and Travis is none of my business, okay? I’ll just keep my rich-boy self away from him.”

  Celeste winced. “I’m sorry about that. It just came out. But I don’t want you stirring up trouble with me and Travis.” She paused. He looked over at her, almost pinning her against the car door with his hot blue gaze. Suddenly, the air in the car felt unbearably close. Celeste fumbled for the door handle. “I have to get out of here, okay?”

  Nick nodded without looking at her. She could see the muscles of his clenched jaw standing out under his skin. He gripped the steering wheel and stared. “So, planning meeting tomorrow night?” he asked.