While my heart is still pounding wild—was he staring at me?—Conrad finally texts me back: “That’s swell about your date—or should I say it’s great?”
Um … what?
CHAPTER 48
My date (well, date-ish thing) with North was going great. It really was. But then after dinner, he told me “Pull over at that gas station for a minute, would you, please?”
All night he was polite-ish like that—using words like “please” and, well, polite words like that as though he was on a job interview or something.
I had no clue why we were here. He had me pull up close to the gas station’s convenience store. “Keep the car running,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”
He sauntered into the store, then only a few minutes later he came running out of it carrying a bag. He jumped in the car, immediately urging me, “Let’s go, please. Go, go, go,” like the police were after him.
Hey!
Um …?
I gulped. “Why am I speeding away from the scene? Did you do something illegal in there?”
He grins, “You don’t want to know.”
My heart slams against my chest, hard. But at the same time, it also sinks.
So much for getting scrumptious string-less kisses.
I purse my lips. “Date’s over,” I tell him firmly.
He cocks his head, giving me this ‘Aw, come on, please’ look, but his eyes let me know he expected this. Still, he gives it a shot. “Look, I was hoping the date could go on,” he says. “I now have money to buy you something nice—and I was hoping for that kiss you gave me at that party to continue, now without an audience.”
I shake my head. “No. No way. I was willing to kiss a bad-boy player—I was looking forward to it, actually. But I’m not going to date a criminal, especially when he uses me as his getaway car.”
A tiny smile creeps on his lips. He smirks, looking pleased, “You were looking forward to kissing a bad-boy player?”
I roll my eyes. “Really? That’s what you got out of what I just said?”
“Well, you said it.”
“What I said was, I’m not going to date you.”
“Okay, so we’re just going to make-out a while?”
I screech up to his front curb. “Get out of my car.”
“Come on,” he says. “We were having a nice time, weren’t we? Give me another chance—please?”
I grit my teeth. “Not in a million years.”
Reluctantly he gets out of my car. “I’m not giving up,” he says.
I screech away, but I hear him call after me with laughter in his voice, “Call me!”
Yeah, fat chance.
My life sucks.
CHAPTER 49
In the middle of the night, I wake to music coming from our front yard. Groggily, I peek out my window, then almost choke to death. It’s North! North! He’s on my front lawn, playing a guitar. I start choking again. Oh my gosh! He’s serenading me!
Am I dreaming?!
I must be dreaming!
But no. North is in my front yard, obviously playing a song he wrote himself. His song is titled: “I Want Your Sexy Sex.”
Yeah, I know how to pick them.
CHAPTER 50
I didn’t sleep well last night—what with being porn-serenaded, and having nightmares all night about the police coming to get me.
In the cafeteria, I’m almost falling asleep. Luckily my newish friend, Bridget, is keeping Paige conversationally occupied. I’m free to be a zombie, pretty much.
“Oh, he’s cute,” Bridget says when Paige points out Conrad to her from across the crowded cafeteria. Bridget looks to me excitedly, “Is he going to eat with us?”
My heart squeezes a little. “No, he said he’s going to grab his lunch and sneak it into the library. He’s got a lot of schoolwork to make up.”
Bridget says again dreamily, “He’s cute.” Then she adds, “But I don’t know if I should leave you alone with him while I’m gone this week. It’s kind of scary.”
I tilt my head, “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s the guy that broke Rene’s leg, right?”
“He didn’t break it—not on purpose.”
“So he says,” Bridget scoffs, “But come on—kind of a huge coincidence, right? He’s got a grudge against the girl, then she breaks her leg—because of him.”
Bridget goes on, “Then he has an even bigger grudge against his ex-girlfriend and she winds up dead.”
“It—it wasn’t like that!”
Bridget gives me a skeptical look. “Wasn’t it? Be careful, January. You should stay away from him until I get back from my dad’s house—and also take good notes for me in Spanish class.”
On that bossy note, my beautiful drama-queen friend Bridget skips off to Hawaii (that’s where her dad lives) and I’m left with my jaw hanging open. She basically accused Conrad of being a psychopath murderer.
When I mention this to Paige she shrugs whimsically, “Well, he’s a cute one—even she admitted that.”
I glance back over to Conrad, “Speaking of psychopaths,” I groan, since he’s now talking to one—North.
Paige giggles, “Come on, it was romantic—he serenaded you.”
I roll my eyes. “He sang me porn.”
She laughs some more. “I wouldn’t mind him singing me porn.”
Face it, she probably would if she knew the rest of the story. But I’m not altogether sure about the rest of the story, so I haven’t told it to her—or anyone—since I’m not exactly sure what exactly went down in that convenience store last night—and if I knew, I’d probably have to call the police.
My decision to not spread the sordid tale would be different—due to safety issues—if Paige was still chasing after North, and there was the slightest possibility she might get her dream come true and spend alone time with him. But she’s now dating his friend, and North isn’t like that. I mean, he might be a criminal, but he’s loyal to his friends. Everyone has their standards, apparently—even Mr. Sexy-Sex.
In any case, I’m just going to avoid North at all costs.
… and Ally Grange.
I say this because here she comes— Ally Grange—Miss Fundraiser
“Uh-oh,” Paige says. “Duck, hide!”
But it’s too late, Ally has seen us and she’s skipping our way.
“I’m busy, I have a dentist appointment, I’m donating a kidney,” I start coming up with excuses before I even know what good-deed she’s going to hit me up for—and before she even makes it over to us.
Yet I smile big when she finally reaches our table (I can’t help it—she’s niiice!). “Hi Ally,” I tell her cheerfully, then add quick as lightning, “I have quilting-club after school.”
“Quilting-club?” She sounds interested—d’oh. “I didn’t know you quilted, or that there was a club for it.” She says distractedly, “In any case, I’m in charge of this fundraiser for the homeless shelter in our local area, and I haven’t gotten many people to donate, but I knew I could count on you for support—since it’s such a worthy cause.”
“Yeah, but, um—quilting-club,” I say weakly.
“I know, that sounds like a fantastic thing to donate—a quilt,” she says.
Face-palm.
“Um, I’m not very good at it. It’s almost like I’ve never done it before in my life—ever.”
“Well, maybe you’d like to donate something else then? Actually, what we’re doing is an auction. People donate their talents—or their time—and people will bid on it. It’s happening right after school—the auction. But you don’t have to be there for it, since you have your, um, quilting-club. You could just sign up for something to donate, then people can bid on it. You don’t have to be there for the bidding,” she says again.
“Oh, um. How about I help you set up for the auction rather than actually sign up for anything to donate? I don’t actually have anything to donate—but, um, I’d love to help. Really. Since it’s
such a worthy cause.”
“Great!” She looks through her list. “How about you donate a home-cooked meal, and your cheerful company?—a lot people from the old folks home are coming to bid. They get lonely.”
“Um, uh, okay.”
“Great! And I’ll put you down for helping us to set up too. Thanks!”
With that thorough roping, she skips on to her next poor-excuse-maker.
“Wrangled again! How does she do that?” Paige asks with wonder.
I shrug morosely. “She’s the sweetest girl on the planet—it helps.”
CHAPTER 51
After I helped set up for the fundraiser, I helped myself to a cookie or two and I’m still helping myself when the event actually starts.
So, I half-listen as the presenter quickly goes down the list before the actual bidding begins, so people know beforehand what things are being offered for bidding.
There’s things like manicures, and dog-washing, and piano lessons, and then my thing is announced—“A home-cooked meal with January Runey.”
I see North’s head jerk up at the words. Suddenly he’s no longer listening to his hockey friends who were roped into coming to the event, since Ally’s boyfriend is Griffin Piper, the captain of the hockey team. But no, North is no longer listening to his teammates’ playful banter. Instead his gorgeous criminal eyes are gleaming mischievously, and he’s scratching his chin like he has a plan.
Oh no! He’s going to bid on me.
No, no, no! What can I do? How can I stop this?
Suddenly, Ally is at my elbow. She whispers to me, “Maybe you should get Conrad in here to bid on you.”
“Right.”
Conrad!
I quickly text him: “I need you—now.”
He responds immediately, “Though that’s nice to hear—kind of romantic, actually—but I’m stuck in detention at the moment.”
“Don’t you always sneak out?”
“Yeah. Of course. But it’s not Mr. Webber guarding us today, it’s that college student helper guy. He’s watching me like a hawk.”
I grunt. “Yeah, he does that to me too.”
“I’m sure he does—but it’s for a different reason. The dude doesn’t think I’m hot—he knows I want to escape.”
Like lightning, I bolt to the classroom that detention is held in. The college assistant guy (David) is at Mr. Webber’s desk when I saunter into the classroom trying my lame hardest to look seductive.
Conrad’s eyebrows go up, so does David’s. I slink up to the desk and ask David seductive-like, “Which lip gloss looks better on me?”
I pucker my lips and put two different kinds on for him while I covertly gesture for Conrad to escape. When Conrad finally gets a hint (finally!) he jumps out of his chair and silently leaves the classroom, then I do the same.
David watches me go like, What the—??
“That was crafty,” Conrad tells me when I meet up with him in the empty hallway.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I tell him as I drag him towards the gym, explaining to him that he has to bid on me.
“A home-cooked meal with you?” He lifts a brow. “Yeah, like you have to twist my arm for that,” he says dryly. Then he adds reluctantly, “There’s only one problem—”
“No, there’s no time for problems,” I tell him urgently, as the presenter is just now auctioning off my ‘donation.’
I jab Conrad. “Bid,” I whisper/hiss to him.
“Um, twenty dollars,” he calls out uneasily.
From across the crowded gym, North gestures at his phone to Conrad.
Conrad winces, then glances at North’s message (so do I). It says: “Am I supposed to bid on her or not?”
Conrad quickly replays back: “No!”
North gives Conrad a wary look and seems to sigh. He sighs again, huge, as he turns for the exit, though he peeks back at me longingly over his shoulder before actually leaving the gym, and only does it after Conrad texts him, “Go, dude.”
Then North is gone. Out the door. Didn’t even bid.
Well.
Conrad whispers to me, “Um, do you have twenty bucks?”
CHAPTER 52
When Conrad shows up at my house for our home-cooked meal—whoa! My heart flutters and goes spastic. Holy smokes, my best friend is hot, but tonight he’s even hotter. I try my best to ignore that he dressed up and looks ammmazing. It’s hard though. Especially because he smells amazing too. All I want to do is stare and sniff. Instead I avert my hungry, longing eyes from him and act like I’m looking for my jacket as I inform him nonchalantly, “We’re going to eat at my aunt and uncle’s house.”
His eyes widen. “Your aunt and uncle’s?”
I try to ignore both his disappointment and bewilderment.
Well, not really. Really I focus on his bewilderment, because that’s way easier than the other—which is, I thought it best for my heart, and our friendship, if we don’t have a dinner alone together. Because face it, it might end up seeming ‘romantic’ and make him remember my faux pas candlelight dinner of yore that sent him running in terror for the hills (or, you know, Connecticut) without even saying goodbye to me. Plus, you know, I made him bid on me. So that would just add to the awkwardness of anything resembling ‘romance’ coming from me. Like make him go, ‘Oh man, here we go again!’
So I glance at his perplexed expression and then say coolly, “What? The bid-thing just said a home-cooked meal with me—it didn’t say I had to cook it.”
“True,” he says.
“Plus, my aunt and uncle always fight at their dinners—it’s entertaining.”
His smile grows, and his gorgeous eyes twinkle. “Very true.”
He knows. He’s been to my aunt and uncle’s for dinner many times throughout the years. While they’d fight at the dinner table he’d always whisper to me, “We should have brought popcorn.”
But my aunt is a good cook, so we didn’t mind, you know, just sticking with the dinner and enjoying the entertainment.
Only—ugh!
… this time my aunt storms out of the house during their argument and zooms off in my uncle’s truck. This is new—and awkward!
The worst part is: she was going to fry us Oreos for desert.
We discuss in great length frying them ourselves, but end up being too lazy and just eat them as is while we play MarioKart. (Mmmm, Oreos.)
CHAPTER 53
When we’re done polishing off the package of Oreos, we finally have the energy to do some actual frying—but, alas, the Oreos are gone. So, we fry everything else in the house instead: Twinkies, bananas, chicken nuggets, nothing is safe … and everything is delicious.
When Conrad (sadly) says, “Well, I guess it’s time for me to leave—I mean, since your mom is now checking on us every five minutes.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I think North’s serenade song kind of freaked her out. Now she’s worried about high school boys.” I nudge him, “—even you, apparently.”
Conrad ducks his head, but then he grins, conveniently changing the subject—to one that freaks me out. “This has been fun,” he says, “—our first date.”
My heart slams against my chest. “Wait. What?! We’re on a date?”
He smiles. “Ally didn’t tell you? She wrote it in the bidding roster—‘Home-cooked meal with January Runey’ then in parenthesis she wrote: ‘Date.’”
Oh, that Ally! She acts so sweet and innocent, but she’s a match-making sneak!
“Matchmaker devil,” I grumble under my breath.
With a grin, Conrad cocks an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“Griffin’s sneaky girlfriend. She’s a matchmaker demon.”
Conrad chuckles. “Yeah, Griffin says that. Only he calls her an angel.”
I breathe out a laugh, “He didn’t seem to think the guy that bid on her for piano lessons tonight was an angel. It seemed like Griffin wanted to send the guy to the angels—in a body bag.”
“Yeah, I noticed th
at,” Conrad chuckles. “They guy is new. I don’t think he realized he was messing with the Grief-Master.”
That’s what people call Griffin Piper. Usually it’s because he causes ‘grief’ to the opposing team. But tonight it seemed he wanted to cause it to Mr. Money-bags New Guy—in a big way.
“Well, thanks for rescuing me with the bid thing,” I tell Conrad. “I know the dinner wasn’t as romantic as the sneak made it sound, but it was entertaining, right?”
He nods with an amused smile. “Right.”
“Plus, I paid for this spectacular event,” I remind him.
“Hey, I’m going to pay you back.”
“No need. You saved me—so I guess we’re even.”
“I’ll still pay you back,” he says. “I mean, since I got the spectacular honor of your company.”
“Right. Okay. That’s worth more than twenty bucks, buddy.”
“I know,” he says softly.
The way he says it makes this tingly jet of warmth spread through me.
Uh, okay. Say something hilarious—right now. Something. Anything. Speeeak, January!
But nope. My mouth won’t work. Because Conrad is suddenly gazing into my eyes. Whoa! Holy smokes! What’s going on? Why’s he looking at me like that? His gaze is all—man, I don’t even know—hot.
And hungry.
The air whooshes out of me.
I try to glance away, because, I mean, I have to be reading this wrong, right? He doesn’t think of me like this—hot and hungry. No way. I’m a delusional idiot. He needs his best friend right now—comfort and familiarity, that’s it.
I’m just all wound up and imagining things and delusional because I love him … and want him. But not the way he loves and wants me—since he just wants me as a friend—right? Right? I mean, his girlfriend just died.
I try, try, try to get a grip—focus on reality. But he’s still looking at me like he wants to kiss me, so my brain has gone to La-la Land and my heart is pounding like it’s going to leap out of my chest and make-out with him—along with my actual mouth. Because his gorgeous staring eyes seem to be saying they want that—really, really bad.
The Boyfriend Contract Page 11