Damn, he’s annoying and he can read minds. I’d rather die than let him know he’s right though.
“The office is that way, Dr. Phil,” I say, pointing him in the direction of Miss Hott’s office.
CHAPTER NINE
Somehow Tobi managed to wrangle me into joining her and Pippi for dinner at Ravioli’s. While I hate the thought of being a third wheel, Ravioli’s is a paradise for carb junkies like me, and I am in need of some serious breadstick therapy. Besides, if I stay home, I would just be driving myself crazy wondering what Rand and Amy are doing. Now I can drive Tobi and Pippi crazy instead.
My closet is in need of a serious overhaul. I can’t find one decent thing to wear. Just as I am about to ignore my own advice of “always dress for the part you want to play” and throw on jeans and a T-shirt, I remember a delectable suede jacket Mom was wearing the other day. I usually never raid Mom’s closet even though we are the same size, but tonight I’m desperate. I think about calling her cell to ask if she cares, but she’s at a chick flick with a friend since Dad’s out of town and I don’t want to interrupt her movie; besides, she won’t care.
I pull on her closet doorknob, but it’s locked. That’s weird. Mom must have accidentially pushed the button in on her way out. I retrieve a wire hanger from my closet and bend the top out straight. I stick the now-straight metal piece thru the hole in the doorknob until I hear the lock pop open. I toss the deformed hanger on the bed, then open the closet.
Before I can even turn on the light I am immediately assaulted by a cascade of shoeboxes toppling down on my head. I bat them away and turn the light on. When I do, I can hardly believe my eyes. It looks like Neiman Marcus exploded in here. Mom’s closet has three times more stuff than it did when I was looking for the non-existent dude I thought Mom was having an affair with the other day. The metal clothes bars are sagging in the middle from the weight of all the clothes. I run my fingers over the rainbow-colored garments. Almost everything still has the tags hanging from their cuffs or hems. The shelves above are stuffed with shoeboxes, purses, scarves, and belts. Unless Mom is planning on opening her own store, this is very strange. I slowly back out of the closet and relock the door.
Where in the world did Mom get all that stuff? I know my parents don’t make good enough money to afford all that. If Mom did buy all that stuff, I’m definitely going to be looking into student loans next year. But why would she buy so much stuff just to let it hang in the closet? I wonder if she is a kleptomaniac? I’m glad that Dad is gone tonight because when Mom gets home (unless I stay out later than she does) I am planning a serious intervention.
I return to my own closet and decide on a crème-colored cashmere sweater, black wool pleated skirt, and knee-length kitten-heeled black leather Gucci boots.
My blonde hair is down and rolled into my big, smooth, signature curls. My eyes are done up with dark gray shadow, black liner, and tons of jet-black mascara making them smolder. I paint my lips bright cherry. A glance in the mirror verifies what I already knew. I look totally freaking hot and I’m spending the night with a couple of lesbos. What a waste of eye makeup!
I pull open my closet again and survey my choice of Dooney bags. Dooney & Bourke is the God I worship. They understand me. Somehow they just know that I need different types of bags for different occasions. Sometimes I’ll go classy and I’ll need my ivory-and-pink mini tassel Bubble bag. Other times I’m feeling fun and nothing will do but my bubble-gum pink Heart mini gym bag. If I’m feeling really eccentric, I’ll whip out my black drawstring Doodle. And then there are times like tonight when my makeup and outfit don’t really fit into any of those categories. Tonight I need something sexy. I pull down my Tattoo bucket bag, it’s the perfect combo of trashy and sexy. Those Dooney people really know what they are doing!
I’m switching my goodies from Dooney to Dooney when I get a fabulous idea. I flip through the school directory, find Melinda’s phone number, and dial it.
“Hello,” she answers before the first ring is even complete. It breaks my heart that the poor girl is just sitting there on a Friday night waiting for the phone to ring.
“Hey, Melinda. Do you want to go to Ravioli’s with me?”
“Who is this?”
As if she has so many people calling her. “Duh, it’s Aspen.”
“Sure,” she says excitedly. “Just give me fifteen minutes to get ready.” She clicks off.
I’m frozen in place still holding my cell phone to my ear. Fifteen minutes? Who can get ready in fifteen minutes? This girl is so in need of my fashion tutelage.
* * * *
A half hour later we walk into Ravioli’s. Tobi and Pippi have reserved a cozy candlelit table in the back. Tobi sees us and waves us over.
“Hi guys. Melinda, it’s good to see you,” Tobi greets us, being her natural casual self and immediately putting Melinda at ease.
“Aspen, you look amazing,” Pippi says to me in awe. She’s really starting to grow on me.
“Yeah, too bad it’s gonna be wasted on a bunch of dykes.” I laugh.
Melinda and I take our seats and start to peruse the menu. Italian food, yum!
“It might not be totally wasted,” Tobi says sneakily.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, curious.
“Your wonderful best friend may have called a certain royal male specimen and asked him to join us.
I drop my menu in shock. “You invited Rand?”
“Maybe,” she answers coyly.
“Oh, shit!” Pippi yells, slamming her menu down.
“What?” Melinda, Tobi, and I ask in unison.
“I kind of invited Amy,” Pippi answers, looking guilty. “I thought it would be okay for her and Aspen to be together if Rand wasn’t around. I’m really sorry, Aspen.” She gives me the most pitiful look I’ve ever seen and I know she really is sorry. Before I can tell her it’s all right and bolt out the door, Tobi goes on a rampage.
“This was super inconsiderate of you, Pippi. From now on, you clear with me who you are going to invite. Got it?”
Pippi vigorously shakes her head up and down. Damn, I guess I know who wears the pants in their relationship. I am about to push my chair back to leave when Rand and Amy approach the table.
One look from those intense green eyes and my knees are knocking so bad there is no way I’m getting out of this chair. Rand is wearing the same jeans he had on earlier with a green and yellow long-sleeved John Deere T-shirt. The T-shirt reads, “Save a tractor, ride a cowboy.” Show me where to saddle up, big boy! How in the hell can he make a T-shirt and jeans look so freaking hot? My hotness isn’t lost on him either. He’s totally checking me out.
“God, Aspen. Take a picture, it lasts longer.” Amy smarts off before lowering herself into the chair Rand is holding out for her. I am really starting to despise Amy. She has slipped right into Angel’s Manolos without so much as a mandatory grieving period for her missing leader. But I’m forced to admit that her clingy Calvin Klein dress looks incredible. Then I notice she’s actually wearing her tiara. Someone above is testing me. Rand sees me eyeing the tiara as he takes the seat across from me. If I make a smart-ass comment, Rand will think I’m still the snotty, superficial girl he can’t love anymore. If I keep my mouth shut, maybe he’ll realize I’m really trying to grow for him. But how can I possibly not comment on that?
Luckily, Tobi beats me to the punch. “I can’t believe you are wearing that,” she says, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.
“I can’t believe you even accepted it,” Pippi adds. “What about Angel?”
Amy tries to look innocent. “I only accepted it in her honor. Angel would be mortified if she knew there was no homecoming queen. Besides, I can’t help it that I got the most votes after Angel,” she finishes, giving me a very satisfied look.
Bitch! She knows I can’t defend myself without looking like a petty asshole. I would love to get her alone in a dark alley and beat her over the tiara’d h
ead with my Dooney.
Pippi pipes up, coming to my rescue, “Amy, did you forget that Aspen actually won?”
Amy makes a horrified face. She can’t believe that her friend just betrayed her. Go, Pippi!
“You remember. Me, you, and Angel cheated so Aspen would come in second and Angel could win. Miss Hott even offered the tiara to Aspen, but she had the class to turn it down. I guess that tells us how classy you are.”
God, I just love that Pippi. The look on Rand’s face goes from realization to shock.
“You turned down the tiara?” he asks in amazement. I look so good to him right now. I owe Pippi big-time.
“Yeah.” I shrug like its no big deal. “It just wouldn’t have been right with Angel missing.”
“But you won. You could have proved to Miss Hott that Angel cheated.” He is completely thrown. I can almost hear my brownie points racking up.
I put my elbows on the table and fold my hands together. I rest my chin on top of my hands and look deep into his eyes and say, “Some things are just more important than tiaras.” Amy gasps as she practically gets burnt from the sparks I’m sending in Rand’s direction.
“Come on, Rand. Let’s get out of here.” Amy says, trying to pull him out of his chair.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He gives her a dirty look. Trouble in paradise, Amy?
“Dang, Amy. Are you going to let your boy toy talk to you like that?” Tobi jokes, clearly trying to stir the pot.
“Shut up, lesbo!” Amy screams.
“I’m rubber. You’re glue. What bounces off me sticks to you,” Tobi sings.
Amy’s comment doesn’t roll off Pippi so easily. I notice her stabbing the tablecloth with her fork, glaring in Amy’s direction.
“As if,” Amy responds to Tobi. “I don’t see why anybody would want to be a freaking carpet muncher.”
“That’s it. It’s on!” Pippi yells, jumping up from her chair.
“Calm down, sweetie. She’s not worth it,” Tobi says softly, reaching across the table and touching Pippi’s arm.
“What are you talking about anyway, Tobi?” Rand asks, confused.
“Just ignore her, Rand. She’s a man-hater,” Amy responds, trying to deflect Rand’s attention.
“You’re not implying that Amy and I are a couple, are you?” he continues.
“If you aren’t hitting that, what’s with the Siamese-twin act all week?” Tobi asks.
I’m in awe; I’m just sitting here on my best behavior and my friends are collecting the 411 for me. Melinda is sitting beside me taking the conversation in with saucer-sized eyes. She probably feels like she just stepped into the real-life 90210.
“I’ve just been giving Amy a ride since her car is in the shop,” Rand explains, causing Amy to turn scarlet.
I stare her down, but she’s too chickenshit to even make eye contact with me. I so want to rip her face off right now. All week she’s been deliberately making me think that she and Rand were an item.
“Her car is at my house.” Pippi laughs.
“You lied to me?” Rand asks Amy, slightly raising his voice.
Amy takes a look around at everyone, except Melinda, glaring at her. She knows she’s busted. She jumps to her feet and screams, “You’re all just jealous of me,” and storms out of the restaurant. This night is just too good to be true. Tobi, Pippi, and Melinda are busy cracking up at Amy’s dramatic exit. They completely miss Rand leaning across the table, whispering, “I was never with her.” Then he picks up his menu like we didn’t just share a lifetime with one look. I mean, it’s a good thing that he felt the need to clarify that he didn’t get with Amy but I’m just more confused. Does he want me or not?
Laughter flows freely throughout dinner. Melinda is having the time of her life. I’m so glad I thought to invite her. I do wish I had met her here though because I may be able to get Rand alone in the parking lot.
Rand insists on paying for the entire dinner. None of us put up too much of a fight. On the way out Rand holds the door open for all of us. I smile sweetly as I notice him glance down at my stems. Busted! That’s the green light I needed. He definitely still wants me. I see Melinda sidle up next to Pippi and Tobi and whisper something to them. A few seconds later, all three of them jump into Pippi’s Camaro and drive by Rand and me, waving and honking.
“That was subtle.” Rand chuckles.
“No doubt,” I add, making a mental note to buy those chicks something fabulous.
We walk at a snail’s pace to our cars. Neither of us wants to say good-bye. Knots form in my belly. I was so sure of myself just a few seconds ago, but now I’m a mess. I know I scored major points with Rand tonight, but I don’t know if it’s enough.
He walks me to Cookie’s driver side door. I hit the remote to unlock her. Rand slowly opens the door for me. Please, please, please, don’t let me leave. I just kind of stand there like a dork for a second. Nothing. I move to get in.
“That was kind of fun, huh?” He stops me.
I slam the door shut and lean against Cookie. “Yeah, I think I ingested about a thousand carbs though.”
“I like a girl who isn’t afraid to consume three days’ worth of calories in one sitting,” he jokes, in reference to the ten or so breadsticks I put away.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you like the girl?” I ask, seductively licking my lips. They still taste buttery from the breadsticks.
He starts nervously running his fingers through his hair. Could this be the same superconfident Rand who had no problem kissing me two (almost three, but who’s counting?) times before?
I decide to help him out. I lean into him, pressing my chest against his. I run my hands up and down his back and neck. He takes a deep breath, getting a good whiff of my new, intoxicating perfume. His eyes practically roll back in his head. He’s trying to be so strong and resist me, but why? We are so meant to be. He has to see that.
“Don’t you want me?” I ask, looking up at him with my best Bambi-doe eyes.
“You know I do,” he whispers, moving his hands underneath my leather jacket. He moves his face a teensy bit closer to mine. His eyes are intensely watching my lips. I counter his teensy move. This is going to be the kiss to end all kisses. There is even background music. It sounds like the theme song from Cops. Not very romantic, but whatever.
Rand jerks away from me and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. So that’s where the music came from. I’ll have to make sure and thank whoever is calling for ruining the hottest moment of my entire life.
Rand turns his back to me as he answers. I hear a girl’s voice, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. It’s probably skanky Amy trying to get her knockoff-Ferragamo-clad foot back in the door. Rand just listens, then finally says, “I’ll be right there,” and hangs up. Excuse me?
He turns back around to face me and I can tell he is no longer putty in my hands. His resolve to push me away for whatever reason has returned in full force.
“I’ve got to go, Aspen,” he says, opening my door again.
I refuse to go down like this. I want an explanation. “Wait a minute, what is going on here?”
“Aspen, I know you’ve been trying. I saw you riding the bike and making friends with Melinda. I still can’t believe you gave up the tiara. But … ”
“But nothing? We should be together. I know you know that. Why are you fighting this?”
“Why do you want to be with me?”
Reasons? He wants me to give him specific reasons? I don’t work well under pressure. “I don’t know, I just do. I just know that I’m supposed to be with you.” Tears start to well up in my eyes as I realize I’m not making a very good argument.
He puts his hand over his heart and says, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”
“Good, because I mean it,” I say, flinging my arms around his neck.
He gently removes them and drops them to my side. Suddenly, I
feel how cold it is tonight. Rand blows out an icy breath.
“I wish I could believe you, but I don’t. The only reason you want me now is because I’m a challenge. I was the first thing you ever had to work for. You’d ditch me as quick as you ditch purses.”
I am beyond pissed at Rand right now. How dare he assume that I’m just interested in him because there has been a chase involved, and the purse comment was just uncalled for. Doesn’t he even notice that I only buy Dooneys? I am totally purse monogamous.
“You know, for someone who has supposedly watched and loved me from afar for years, you don’t know shit about me.” I slide into Cookie, start her up, and drive away without another glance in Rand’s direction.
* * * *
“I give up!” I shout dramatically, then throw myself on Mom’s bed.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Mom asks, glancing up from her stack of mail-order catalogs.
I raise up long enough to unzip and pull off my boots, then flop back down on Dad’s pillow. I’m kind of glad he’s working out of town tonight. I love my dad, but he’s kind of clueless sometimes, especially in the romance department.
I work up the energy to explain my mostly fantastic/slightly aggravating evening. “It’s Rand. One minute I practically have him panting, and the next he’s telling me I only like him because he’s a challenge now.”
“Is he right?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows.
“Who’s side are you on anyway?” I roll my eyes at her.
“Face it, Aspen. You’ve never worked this hard for anything your whole life. Are you sure you don’t just want him because he’s unattainable?”
“I’m not answering that.” I roll over and bury my face in Dad’s pillow.
“Okay, okay. So, tell me what you like about him?”
I roll back over and conjure up my favorite mental picture of Rand. It was the first time we kissed in the hospital. When he was stroking my hair. It made me feel so safe.
“He makes me feel safe,” I repeat out loud. “I love the way he looks at me, like he can read my mind. When we kiss it’s like I always imagined it could be but never was before. And … ”
Revenge of the Homecoming Queen Page 11