The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1)

by Hatler, Susan

  Dear Aubrey,

  Um, did I ask your advice? Nope, didn’t think so.

  Poppy

  I dropped my head into my hands. Yes, this is what my life had come down to . . . mentally arguing with my alter ego. I’d seriously lost it. There’s no other explanation. Dishes. Must go clean the dishes from dinner. No advice needed there. Just me, being a super responsible daughter, thus creating peace in my life.

  With one last gaze at my outfit, I ambled to the kitchen to clean up the mess from dinner while my mom enjoyed herself at the art exhibit. She hadn’t put a thing away either, and that wasn’t like her to at least help out. The additional clean up had to be punishment for disappointing her, yet again. It felt like I couldn’t do anything right lately.

  The water sprayed out of the faucet, pelting the plates loudly, and hot water burned my hands as I rinsed the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

  I really needed to watch myself or I could end up spending my first year of college living at home, and nothing could be worse than that. I needed to be free to live on my own without my mother’s unrelenting expectations. If I’d taken an evening to go to an art exhibit, she probably would’ve expected me to fill out a report when I got home.

  I scrubbed the counters with a sponge and sighed. With the water turned off, the kitchen was quiet, and I could hear Stephen and Daniel outside by the garage shooting hoops.

  “I got one!” Stephen’s voice was loud as if he were trying to impress Daniel. “Sa-weet!”

  “Good job, Stephen,” Daniel said.

  “Aww,” I muttered. Despite wanting to wring my brother’s neck for reading my private email and almost blowing my secret identity, my heart warmed at how happy he sounded shooting hoops outside. And let’s face it, even my little brother could make a basket, though I couldn’t hit the backboard if my life of freedom depended on it. So depressing.

  I noted that we’d had that basketball hoop for years, since our dad put it up before he’d left, but we’d never really used it.

  “Another one!” Stephen’s voice came through the screen door. “Yeah!”

  “You’re doing great, Stephen.” Daniel’s voice sounded proud and sincere like he meant the compliment. “Here, see if you can get three in a row.”

  I smiled to myself, then picked up my schoolbooks from where I’d left them on the entryway, and couldn’t help stopping to listen by the open front door. A cool breeze from the evening air came through the metal screen, uncharacteristically chilly for fall in the San Francisco Bay Area.

  “Hey, Daniel?” Stephen asked, in his little voice.

  The sound of a ball smacking against the backboard sounded, followed by its bounce back to the pavement in an echoing beat.

  “Yeah?”

  The ball clunked a few times, then there was silence . . . until a swoosh sound signaling the ball hooking the net.

  “Do you have any brothers?” Stephen asked.

  Silence ensued, making me wonder if Daniel hadn’t heard the question, or if he just wasn’t going to answer. Finally, he said, “No, I don’t have any brothers.”

  I adjusted the books in my arms and leaned toward the cool air still coming from the screen, wondering about the strange tone in Daniel’s voice.

  “Do you think it’d be fun to have a brother?”

  I knew Stephen was only asking because he obviously looked up to Daniel and wondered if he was thinking Stephen was just as cool, too.

  “Sure,” he answered, but his tone had gone flat. “I’m sure that would be all right. Hey, you ready to go inside? Didn’t your sister say you could watch a movie?”

  My stomach tingled at Daniel mentioning me, even though I reminded myself that was only an innocent remark and not really like he’d been thinking about me.

  “Five more minutes?” Stephen asked, his little voice sounded hopeful.

  The ball bounced against the pavement, and I could hear a short laugh. “All right, five more minutes, but no more talking.”

  “You got it,” Stephen agreed, sounding thrilled.

  They were outside, shooting hoops together for another half an hour before coming inside. True to his word, Stephen hadn’t asked another question. This was major self-control coming from my blabbermouth brother, too.

  I, on the other hand, stood frozen in the entryway, holding my books tightly to my chest, wondering about the changes in Daniel’s life that brought him to San Felipe High, and about the life he’d left behind that he didn’t seem to want to talk about.

  ****

  “Need water!” Stephen said, as he ran past me in the entryway and flew into the kitchen where he began filling a glass using the ice-maker on the fridge, the frozen cubes clinking against his glass as it filled up.

  I knew how much the basketball match with Daniel had meant to Stephen by his happy mood, and from the fact that he hadn’t called me Butt Face. It was practically a miracle.

  Daniel opened the screen door with one hand, and wiped his brow with the other. Amazing how he could look so good all hot and sweaty. Yes, he wore the athletic look very well, and I wanted to kick myself for never attending basketball games. I glanced down at my Minnie Mouse outfit again, sucked in a deep breath, and reminded myself to wear it proudly.

  “Decided not to join us outside for the match, huh?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I think I blew enough baskets for one day.”

  He eyed the books in my hand, but still hadn’t busted up laughing at my outfit. Either that was a good sign, or maybe he didn’t care enough to notice what I was wearing. Tough call. “Gonna do some studying?” he asked.

  “English essay’s due tomorrow,” I said, referring to the first period class we had together. “You write the paper yet?”

  He shook his head. “We can get a movie on for Stephen and then maybe I can join you?”

  “Sure.” My stomach fluttered at the thought of studying at the dining table with Daniel, and I had to remind myself he was only here because his mother had ditched him. He was basically a prisoner here until she returned.

  I got a glass of water for Daniel, put it on the dining room table next to my laptop, and then went to set up the movie for Stephen. I put a blanket over my happily exhausted little brother, then ruffled his hair before joining Daniel back at the table. I handed him a few pieces of binder paper and a pen so he could write his essay, and our fingers touched briefly, sending electric tingles up my arm and neck. Oh, my. . . .

  Schoolwork. I needed to focus on schoolwork, not how gooey I felt around Daniel. Gulp.

  I slid into a seat and picked up my pen, trying to focus my attention on the English essay. Writing always came easy for me and I had journaled privately for years. So, I put pen to paper and was halfway finished with the first page when I glanced up and noticed that Daniel still hadn’t written a thing.

  My gaze stayed on his green eyes as he stared at the blank page while leaning against his fist, his elbow on the table.

  “Stuck?” I asked, as I scribbled out the rest of the sentence I’d been writing.

  “Writing’s not my strong suit.”

  “What is?” I couldn’t believe I’d asked that, like it was any of my business.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure anymore. I thought I knew but . . . things change, you know?”

  “They do,” I said, immediately thinking of my personality on Dear Aubrey and the fact that, for a brief moment, I’d forgotten I was wearing a Minnie Mouse outfit.

  “Try not thinking about the entire essay as a whole and just write the first thing that comes to your mind,” I said. “Even if it’s not very good, you can always go back and change it, but you can’t edit a blank page.”

  He sighed. “The assignment is to write about someone you admire, though. That’s a tough one.”

  “Really?” It had been automatic for me. Ms. Peters was everything I hoped to be ten years from now: ethical, kind, and accomplished. I’d have a hard time staying in our two page li
mit detailing the reasons I admired her.

  I wiggled the pen between my fingers, but I’d stopped writing. “There has to be someone you look up to.”

  He scoffed. “If there is I don’t know about it.”

  “What about your parents?” Mine weren’t first on my list, but didn’t most people look up to the people who raised them? It seemed a logical suggestion.

  He shook his head. “Not even close.”

  “Your mom seems nice.” I don’t know why I felt the need to defend Suzanne when I’d only just met her. But she truly did seem like a nice person. Not like she’d looked down on me or judged me after my mom’s admonishment.

  “She is nice . . .” He paused and seemed to be considering something before he spoke again. “But, it’s hard to admire someone who lets herself get walked all over.”

  Something in his tone told me we were getting into personal territory here, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “What about your dad?”

  His jaw set. “That man’s the opposite of everything I admire.”

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say to that but I could totally relate to how he felt. I mean, my dad had moved to the other side of the country and hadn’t visited my brother or me in years. I’m pretty sure dads were supposed to be role models for their sons, so what a let down. But I didn’t have the guts to pry any further.

  “You don’t have to be sorry.” He tried to look like his disappointing dad didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. “Life happens and there’s nothing you can do, right?”

  “I guess.” The tension building from our conversation felt palpable, and I didn’t want to say what I really thought—afraid of hurting his feelings, offending him, or ticking him off. Then I realized I wasn’t being myself. Again. Just trying to please the person sitting next to me. “Actually, Daniel, I don’t believe that life just happens.”

  His gaze flicked to mine. “What do you mean?”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, things happen and we choose how we deal with it.” It felt weird speaking my mind, but he didn’t yell or walk out or anything so I took that as a sign that I could keep going. “Sometimes things happen as the effect of something we did, so we might have either contributed to the situation or actually caused it to begin with.”

  He wouldn’t know that I was secretly referring to Trish’s party and how I’d manipulated Amber into taking Beth, which in turn had affected my own social life by taking my best friend away from me. Well, at least for Friday night.

  “Other times, things happen to us all on their own, but we still have the choice as to how we deal with the situation. And, really, how we deal with what happens to us and what actions we take will affect our lives more than the actual event. Don’t you think?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” He shook his head. “You sound like a psychology major.”

  “Psychology is one of my main interests,” I blurted, unable to believe how much I was sharing with him. My face heated. I’d never told anyone about my secret goal to be a psychologist before, and it was surprising how comfortable I felt talking to him.

  He studied me but if he noticed my had-to-be bright red face, he didn’t say anything. “Are you going to apply as a psych major in college?”

  I nodded. “What are you going to choose?”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “To be honest, this year has been so messed up I don’t know what I want to do after I graduate.”

  Wow. I’d always thought I was in a tough spot, knowing exactly what I wanted to do but not being sure my mom would allow me to do it. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do in Daniel’s predicament of not knowing what to do. It only made me more curious about what had happened to him and why he’d moved here.

  He looked at me then and gave me a sad smile. “Any advice? Or should I write Dear Aubrey?”

  My breath caught and my heart rate kicked up a notch. “W-Why would you bring up Dear Aubrey?”

  Was it me, or was there panic in my voice?

  “I don’t know.” He gave me a funny look. “Just making a joke, I guess. Since Stephen said you and Amber were talking about Aubrey’s advice column.”

  Every nerve in my body went on red alert. So he had been paying attention to what Stephen had said! What if Daniel told Trish or Amber about my brother’s comment? What if Amber made the connection to me since Aubrey emailed her and Poppy hadn’t? What if the entire school found out that I was Aubrey?

  My mind raced with the possibilities of this potential disaster. What if the entire school found out that I’d been the one to give them advice? Or, even worse, what if they thought my advice was stupid? What horrible nickname would they think of for me then?

  “Poppy?”

  I jerked out of my mental freak-out mode, and met his eyes. “Huh?”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Yes. “Uh, why?”

  “You seem . . . different.”

  Scared out of my mind would be more accurate. “Maybe we should get back to our homework assignment,” I said, and the suggestion sounded lame even to my own ears, but it was the only way I could think of to change the subject.

  For some reason, he looked irritated. “I don’t get you, Poppy. I thought we were having a deep conversation. Now you want to go back to schoolwork? One minute you’re hot and the next minute you’re cold. I’m not sure what to do with that.”

  Hot and cold? A chill vibrated down my spine. Why did that phrase sound eerily familiar?

  “I’m sorry . . .” I bowed my head, unable to think of an excuse for my odd behavior. But I couldn’t tell him my entire life at San Felipe High was in his hands, and that it depended on whether or not he kept what my brother had said about Amber and Aubrey private. I bit my bottom lip. Hot and cold, the words circled around my brain. “Maybe I just . . .”

  Then, it hit me. The advice column. My mind raced back to that post from In Doubt.

  I’ve noticed a girl at school and am wondering how I can tell if she likes me. I’m getting mixed signals. Sometimes I think she might be interested, but she’s hot and cold.

  “Hot and cold?” I repeated, unable to believe what I’d deduced. My mouth dropped open and I could barely form the words. “Are you In Doubt?” I blurted.

  It took him a second to get that I’d made the connection to his post on the advice column and then his cheeks turned pink. “You’ve read Dear Aubrey?”

  Worse, I was Aubrey.

  Had In Doubt, make that Daniel, been talking about me in his post? And I’d advised him that he deserved better than hot and cold. Better than me. What had I been thinking?

  I swallowed. “Yes, I read Dear Aubrey.”

  First he was quiet a minute, then he fidgeted, as if he might get up and leave. But he stayed in his seat and finally met my gaze. “And what did you think of my post?”

  All sorts of emotions ran through me. Hope. Fear. Excitement. Fear again, and in a big way.

  These new feelings slammed into me all at once, super intense, and they were all urging me to face my fears and be honest with this sweet guy about my alter ego. “Daniel?”

  “Yes?”

  I took a deep breath, hoping I was right that I could trust him with my secret. My hand trembled as I stared into his beautiful, green eyes with those intriguing gold flecks. “I want to tell you something.”

  “What is it?” he asked.

  My pulse raced, but I knew I needed to be brave and open up to him. “It’s something really private. Something that could ruin me if anyone ever found out. I need you to make a promise never to tell another living soul.”

  “I promise.” His voice was strong and sincere, as he kept his gaze on me. “You’re shaking.” He reached out and covered my hand with his own. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  My hand warmed from his touch. My heart pounded in my chest, in my ears, and I grew dizzy. “Okay, the truth is that the reason I know you’re In Doubt isn’t because I read
the Dear Aubrey column, but because her advice is—”

  “That I should forget about it.”

  Oh, what stupid advice! And I called myself a pre-psych major? I could seriously kick myself. Well, I had new advice from Aubrey and Poppy Pinkleton, for that matter. “Just let me get this out.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Daniel, the truth is that I’m—”

  “We’re home!” The front door burst open and in walked my mom and Suzanne. They were laughing and loud and their footsteps clipped across the entry tile, making it obvious they were heading toward the kitchen. It was the worst timing ever.

  Daniel slipped his hand off of mine and air swirled above my skin, making my hand feel cold and empty without his touch. I glanced up at him, wondering if he’d guessed what I was going to tell him—that I was Aubrey. But his gaze was on his mom as she strode into the room.

  Her coat was still on and buttoned up. “You ready to go?”

  “Sure.” He took a deep breath, and his gaze met mine. Then he pushed his still-blank piece of paper back at me and gave me a look I couldn’t read. “See you at school tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I’d been saved from revealing my alter ego, but for some reason I didn’t feel relief. I’d wanted to open up to Daniel, even though that meant I’d be completely exposed. Should I call him later and confide over the phone? Who was an advice columnist supposed to write for advice? Because I wasn’t about to start mentally arguing with myself again.

  My mom gave me an odd look, then nudged her head in the direction of the door. So I stood up. Together, she and I walked them to the door.

  I’d kept the blank piece of paper in my hand, and I folded it in half and handed it back to Daniel. “Just write the first thing that comes to your mind. I’m sure it will be good.”

  “I’ll try.” His fingers brushed mine as he took the blank sheet from me, and he stared down at his hand a moment, making me wonder if he’d felt the same spark I had. Butterflies danced in my tummy. Maybe Aubrey’s lame advice hadn’t ruined things completely. Maybe it was possible that an It boy really did like the real me.