Perfect Ten

by L. Philips

  “Landon has nice eyes.”

  I flush. “Yeah, he does.”

  “And he’s sexy as hell and funny and he’s got a great sense of style.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, and then blink. “Wait, you think Landon’s sexy?”

  It’s Meg’s turn to flush, and she steers the conversation expertly away from my question. “It’s all so romantic, isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “Oh, come on, Sam!” she exclaims, then picks up my list, pointing to it. “You do a spell to find the perfect person for you, and you go through all this drama to figure out what you really want, and he’s been here, right under your nose the entire time. It’s like a movie. I’m telling you, the Goddess knows what She’s doing.”

  I wish I could agree with that. I wish it more than anything. But honestly, since I told Landon that I’d consider trying again, I’ve done nothing but wonder if that was the right decision.

  I pluck the list out of Meg’s hands and look at it, hoping I can get some kind of answer from it. “You really think Landon is all of these things? What about number eight?”

  She snatches the list back and searches for number eight. “Ambitious? Great Goddess, Sam. How blind are you? Why do you think Landon’s actually been going to classes?”

  I stare at her, clueless.

  Meg shakes her head at me. “He’s trying to get his grades up so that he’ll have a prayer of getting into NYU with you.”

  “He applied to NYU?”

  Meg nods, and that floors me. But the thing is, I should feel flattered and relieved that Landon is trying to get into NYU, and I don’t. Instead it only makes me feel nervous.

  “He’s really in love with me, isn’t he?” I ask quietly. “He never stopped?”

  Meg smiles wide. “He never stopped.”

  “And you’ve known this whole time?” I ask Meg.

  “He told me after the whole thing with Jeff.” I start to ask about that, but she shushes me. “Nope. He’ll have to tell you about that. Not my secret to share. But yeah, I’ve known for sure since last summer. I thought you’d figure it out when he was acting like a jealous freak about Travis, but I guess you were too, um, distracted.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Distracted is a nice way of putting it.”

  We both grow quiet, and I study my list again. Meg’s right. If I count Landon’s attempt to boost his grades as ambition, he’s a Perfect Ten. And he wants a second chance with me. We fell in love once, and we could fall in love again, right? Especially since we’ve both changed for the better. It could work this time.

  So why don’t I feel sure?

  I’m about to ask Meg that question, but then the table shakes and Landon’s sitting next to me. His eyes are sparkling with mischief and, wow, they’re pretty. He definitely has number four going for him.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi,” I say back, and then we both stare at each other for a few moments, like two middle school kids at their first dance, giggly with nervousness and unsure of what to say.

  “Oh for the love of Isis. You’ve seen each other naked. Are you really going to be this awkward?” Meg groans, burying her face in her hands.

  I flush. Landon just grins wider. “Want to do something tonight?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, and I’m a little surprised to find that I mean it.

  “Okay. It’s a date then.” He grabs a few Cheez-Its from Meg’s bag and pops them into his mouth. “Gotta get back to band. Is seven okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Good,” Landon says. “See you then.”

  He leans toward me a little, and for a second I think he might just kiss me right there in the cafeteria. I glance at Jamie but he’s not even looking at us, and I’m relieved. Landon doesn’t kiss me, though. He just squeezes my hand and then he’s off, jogging back to band, since he’s turned into the kind of person who cares about school when I wasn’t looking.

  Meg’s beaming, dancing in her seat. “Sam and Landon, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—”

  “Oh my god, shut up.”

  She cracks up. “Whatever. It’s so perfect, isn’t it?”

  I don’t answer that. I can’t. So I deflect like a freaking pro. “Or maybe you want to live vicariously through me since Landon is . . . what was the phrase you used? Sexy as hell?” She narrows her eyes at me and it’s almost scary enough to make me stop snickering. “Maybe he’s your Perfect Ten.”

  A Cheez-It bounces off the bridge of my nose. I laugh a little with her and then grow quiet, studying my list again. I feel Meg’s eyes on me, regarding me closely.

  After a moment, I look at her and ask, “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”

  “Giving Landon another chance, you mean?” I nod. “Of course you are. He’s one of your best friends. He knows you better than anyone. And the list, right? The new list, I mean. He’s everything you want. Everything you’ve learned you want, I should say. Right?”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  She leans across the table, close enough so that she can whisper. “Besides, it’s so obvious there’s still something there. Everyone can see it.”

  I think about that, the way everyone always assumes that Landon and I are together, or that we still have a lot of feelings for each other. There must be something there that everyone else is seeing. Hell, I’ve felt it myself, like at Travis’s signing party when we were dancing, or when he looks at me with his pretty eyes, or yesterday, after Meg’s ritual, when he kissed me. There was definitely something there.

  I smile at Meg, relieved. “Yeah, I think maybe there is. Yesterday, when he kissed me at the cemetery . . .”

  “Good, huh?” she asks, wiggling her brows.

  I chuckle. “Yeah, it was. Familiar and wonderful and . . . it’s Landon, you know?”

  “I know,” she agrees. “You’ll fall for him again and things will be perfect. The Goddess led you straight back to him. It’ll work. Just trust Her.”

  For some reason, I look back toward Jamie’s table and I’m startled to realize he’s looking at me. Meg follows my gaze and turns back to me, her face twisted with worry. “You are over Jamie, aren’t you, Sam?”

  I stare at her, but before I can answer, the bell rings and I’m saved. I jump up, gathering my things. “I have to get to class.”

  “Sam . . .”

  “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  It’s an empty promise, because I don’t know what I’d say even if we did talk. I don’t think I can begin to sort out everything that’s going on in my mind, not anytime soon, anyway. I think she knows it, because she doesn’t try to stop me as I walk away. I go to my next class, then another, and then another, and then home to get ready for my date with Landon, Meg’s question hanging over me the whole time like a storm cloud.

  For our date, Landon doesn’t take me to our old standby, Casa, or even to Seven Sauces or Toscanos. Instead we drive all the way out to Trimble, which is an even more hillbilly town than Athens, and to a little diner that looks like it’s straight out of the fifties. Lucy’s, it’s called. I raise a brow before we get out of the car, but Landon only winks.

  “Trust me.”

  When we get inside and are seated at a booth, Landon orders chocolate shakes and two of the daily specials for us from a woman whose voice sounds like she smokes two packs a day. She returns with shakes served in a glass, with the extra in the metal mixing cup as well, piled high with whipped cream and a cherry. It’s so thick I have to use my spoon, and it’s love at first bite.

  I sigh dreamily.

  Landon laughs and pops a cherry into his mouth. “Told you to trust me.”

  I should have. The waitress yells at the cook about our order, Buddy Holly is singing on the speakers, and there’s a jukebox in the corner. It’s kind of weird and cheesy, in the way
that Landon and I both love, so of course he would be the one to take me here.

  “How did you find this place?” I ask.

  “One day in the summer. Went exploring,” he says, as if that’s an adequate explanation.

  I shake my head at him, amazed. “Just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” He dips into his own shake. “Just wait until you taste the meatloaf.”

  The conversation flows after that, as it always does with Landon. We gossip, we tell jokes, we share our concerns about how Meg’s coping with the breakup.

  It’s fun, being here with him, and it’s nice. I’m not nervous like I would usually be on a first date. It’s just me and Landon, hanging out, being us. It’s only when the waitress brings us half a coconut cream pie (literally—either she likes us or it’s a week old; we decide after a slightly crunchy bite that it’s the latter) that the conversation lags. And it’s then that I ask about Jeff.

  Landon looks uncomfortable for a split second, but then forces a smile. “I dated him over the summer. I told you. It didn’t work out.”

  “Because of me?” I ask, then wince at myself. “Sorry. That was arrogant of me.”

  “It’s not, and yes, because of you. In a way.” Landon pushes his milkshake out of the way so that he can lean across the table and speak softly. “I mean, I was so hung up on you, and I guess I was tired of it. So I thought maybe if I just tried with Jeff, then maybe I’d fall for him and get over you and everything would be happily ever after, you know? But it kind of backfired.”

  I scrunch my brows together. “What do you mean?”

  Landon shrugs. “He was so not you that that’s all I could think about. I kept thinking stuff like, Sam would have laughed at that or Sam would have bought me the right size shirt or Sam would have known that I hate marshmallows. It really just convinced me that you’re the only one I wanted.”

  That flatters me beyond belief, and I have to admit, I feel kind of victorious that this Jeff dude couldn’t compare. I smile into my empty milkshake glass.

  “I love you, Sam. And I know you can’t say it back yet, but I think you will. Soon.”

  He’s so earnest that I can’t help but go all mushy inside. It feels wonderful to be loved and wanted, and I want to return those feelings so badly it hurts. And maybe he’s right, and Meg too. Perhaps the Goddess and the list led me straight back to him. Perhaps we are perfect for each other. Perhaps if I just give this time, I’ll feel all those things for Landon again.

  I just need to stop feeling all those things for Jamie first.

  “Ready to go?”

  I nod that I am, and Landon throws money on the table. We leave and get into his car, but before Landon buckles his seat belt, he shifts in his seat so that he’s facing me. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen that look on his face a million times. When he leans toward me I don’t hesitate. I want to kiss him. I want his lips on mine and I want to know what I’m feeling for him. But most of all, I just want to feel something at all.

  And I do feel something, it’s just not what I was hoping for.

  It’s good, though. Very good. Landon hasn’t forgotten what I like. He knows that I love to start each kiss slow and work up to a faster pace. He takes his time teasing my mouth with his, easing my lips apart with his tongue, drawing me in bit by bit. His hands cup my face like he always used to do, and mine slide around his back, pulling him closer like they’ve always done. He even tastes like he used to, a bit like vanilla and smoke and something even sweeter underneath, a taste that is all Landon, something I could pick out of thousands. It’s nice.

  But his kiss doesn’t leave me breathless like Gus’s kisses. It doesn’t make me crazy enough to set aside my sanity, like Travis’s did.

  And most of all, it doesn’t fill me up like Jamie’s kisses did. It doesn’t make me feel like I could just burst from all the happiness and warmth inside me. I feel all this love coming from Landon but I’m just . . . empty. There’s nothing to give back, nothing pouring out of me in return. Not like I had with Jamie.

  I put a hand on Landon’s chest and push him away gently. He pants a little, trying to catch his breath, and leans his head back against the seat. He looks higher than he does after we’ve smoked. He looks happy, and that makes me even sadder that I don’t feel that way in return.

  “Wow,” he breathes. “I’ve missed that.”

  I do my best to smile back at him. “I should probably get home.”

  “Or . . .” he starts. “We could go back to my house. My parents are out of town. Again.”

  I freeze, panicking a little, scrabbling for an excuse.

  Luckily, Landon doesn’t read me correctly. He gives me a sheepish smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not rush it this time, eh?”

  I breathe out, relieved. “I think that would be best.”

  Landon nods and turns the key. We drive home, both of us quieter than usual. Landon hums along with his stereo and keeps his hand on mine, but my mind is miles away from his little Honda. All I can think about is what Landon said about Jeff, how Jeff only proved to him that he still wasn’t over me.

  He kisses me once when he drops me off at my house and I promise I’ll call him the next day, smiling brightly. But as I’m unlocking my door, tears come, fast and relentless.

  Landon’s my best friend. He’s my Perfect Ten. He’s the one the whole silly list and spell led me toward. But he’s not the one I want.

  He’s not the one, I realize with a start, that I love.

  I’m in love with Jamie. Oh my god, I’m in love with Jamie. And I think that maybe I’ve known that for a while now, somewhere deep down. Maybe that’s why I felt like I had to buy him that cross. Maybe that’s why I can’t feel anything when Landon kisses me. Maybe that’s why I was able to turn down someone as incredibly sexy as Travis Blake.

  I turn around once I get the door open and speak to the cold, dark night air. Later I’ll be embarrassed about this, I’m sure, but right now I’m too sad and confused and frustrated, and I’d like to give that Goddess of Meg’s a piece of my mind.

  “Seriously, what kind of lesson is this, huh? What exactly am I supposed to do now?”

  The answer comes in the form of a small gust of wind, just enough to lift up a few of my curls and make me cold. It’s definitely not enough, not when I’m going to have to break my best friend’s heart even though he’s a Perfect Ten, and the guy I really want thinks I’m the world’s biggest asshole.

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” I mutter, and go inside to have myself a good cry.

  Eighteen

  I am such a freaking coward that I avoid both Meg and Landon all weekend long. Even Monday morning, I dash to my locker and then to my first class so that I don’t have to see them, and then in Latin I make vague promises to Landon through notes passed by Rachel Gliesner and fly out the door so quickly that I’m sure I leave a trail of smoke behind myself.

  I even skip out on lunch because I just don’t know what to say to Meg yet. I don’t know how to tell her that I’m going to have to hurt Landon, and I’m half-afraid she’ll try to convince me to keep trying with him.

  I go to the auditorium. Although I’d like to say I was just searching for some peace and quiet, peace and quiet isn’t what I’m searching for at all.

  The door closes behind me with a loud thunk and Jamie turns around, looking out over the theater seats to see who the intruder is. Even at this distance, I can see the pain in his eyes when he sees me standing there, and I immediately regret the decision to come here.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . I’ll leave,” I offer dumbly.

  Jamie’s shoulders sag. “It’s okay. It’s a free country. Do what you like.”

  “No. I shouldn’t have disturbed you. I’ll go.”

  “Don’t,” Jamie blurts, cringing at h
imself as the word echoes around the theater. “It’s okay. Just stay.”

  It reminds me of how he asked me to stay the first time I saw him paint, and that makes my heart do a little tap dance inside my chest. So I nod and join him up on the stage, sitting on the edge while I watch him work. Soon he gets lost, the way he always does when he paints. I think he even forgets I’m there, which makes it slightly less awkward that we’re not talking. He has his back toward me, painting a big section of scenery that looks like a dinner table in the middle of a log cabin. It’s a big canvas compared to what I usually see him work with, and he has to stretch up on his tiptoes and use wide strokes. He’s wearing a tight black shirt and it’s mesmerizing the way his back muscles move, the way his forearms flex and his hand grips the brush. I’m so fixated on it that when Jamie curses loudly, I actually jump.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, alarmed.

  Jamie steps back from the scenery, shaking his head at his work. “It’s all wrong.”

  I push myself off the floor and stand next to him. He’s finished the table, and added in bowls of food and spoons and little details like wrinkles in the tablecloth.

  “It’s great,” I say, not knowing how something that good could be all wrong.

  “It’s crap.” Jamie points his paintbrush at one of the bowls. “That one has to be ‘just right,’ and it’s not. Not even close.”

  I study the bowls and then I get it. One bowl is steaming, the other is not, and the one in the middle . . .

  “Goldilocks and the Three Bears?”

  “Yep. The winter children’s play. And they’re not going to have any scenery because their artist sucks.”

  I turn to him, brows furrowed, because I’ve never heard him be so hard on himself. That’s not Jamie. Jamie can be humble and way too unaware of how talented he is, but he’s never mean to himself.

  “It’s good,” I say, a bit forcefully.

  “No, it’s not. I can’t get it right. I’m not used to this paint, or painting on wood. I’m supposed to be some freaking prodigy but all I can do is stupid watercolors of birds. And I’m not even good at those lately.” He throws his paintbrush down on the stage floor and it leaves a grayish track of paint as it skids to a halt. Then he closes his eyes and it’s like he’s talking to himself. “I can’t do this. I still haven’t finished five of the paintings I promised Ninah and I just can’t do it. Nothing looks right, and the damn birds won’t fly.”