The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1)

by Hatler, Susan

  My mission was a go.

  I wanted to jump with joy, but made myself walk slowly upstairs, close my door, and turn the lock. I couldn’t believe I had to do this without Beth. Pout. And it was the first time I was meeting Daniel outside of school, so I could hardly ask him to meet me two blocks away so my mom wouldn’t know I was going out. I’m sure that would give him a good laugh and a huge shove toward Trish, whose mom probably treated her like an adult.

  I slipped into black pants, and a shiny sequined tank that I’d worn on a previous Halloween. This felt like an odd choice of outfit but I’d flipped through a teen fashion magazine earlier and had seen something similar on a teen actress, so the turquoise sequined tank from my old mermaid outfit was an appropriate choice of dance club attire.

  In honor of my first night out, I’d even replaced my glasses with contacts. It’s not like I knew what to expect from a dance club, but I’d seen that mist thing with dry ice that they do in the movies and the last thing I needed was my glasses fogging over.

  Instead of my usual makeup free face, I studied the model in my teen magazine and copied her makeup as precisely as possible with the unused makeup I’d received from last year’s birthday. My face felt thick having so much makeup on, but the magazine did say to wear more when going out at night so I was following knowledgeable instructions.

  When my mind went to “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I focused on my task at hand. If my best friends could hang with the It crowd, then so could I. Stanford would be more challenging than this, right? If I wanted to succeed there, I needed to conquer any hurdle that came my way—no matter what it was.

  With that last thought, I peeled the soft white bandage off my forehead. There was a thick line at the top of my forehead that looked like someone had dragged sandpaper across it. Although I had no plans to be pre-med, it didn’t take a genius to realize putting makeup over an open wound would not be smart. I rubbed off the sticky residue the bandage-glue had left behind, then blotted around the red area with my face powder pad.

  Instead of rubbing the makeup pad across my rather large scratch, I brushed my long brown bangs so they swept across my forehead, then sprayed some hairspray on the side to hold it there. It was a new look for me, but it served its purpose.

  I glanced in the mirror and looked ready for clubbing—for whatever that was worth.

  Heart pounding, I flipped my light switch off and, standing in the darkness, I put an ear to my door. I could hear the faint sound of the TV wafting up the stairs. I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

  I slipped my feet into black flats then tip-toed over to my bedroom window. As I unhinged the window lock, it made a loud scraping noise. I cringed, and waited. Nobody tried my door only to find that it was locked. Nobody pounded on it, demanding to be let in. It felt weird that I was going out, yet my mom didn’t have a clue.

  The metal window screen came off with ease and I set it on the carpet inside my window. The side porch was directly beneath my window, so I secured my tiny purse over my shoulder, then climbed out onto the tiny roof below me. After lowering my window so it was within an inch of closing, I scanned the darkness for neighbors, but all was quiet in our sleepy suburban neighborhood.

  I jumped the two feet over onto our detached garage, lowered myself to the top of our side gate, and then lowered myself to solid ground. I checked my cell and it was exactly nine o’clock. I’d made it out of the house. Guilt washed through me but I also felt exhilarated, wondering what the night held in store for me.

  ****

  After running down the sidewalk three blocks to William’s house, certain that the police—or worse, my mom—would be chasing me for sneaking out while grounded, I found Denise Jung from the paper standing on his front porch. Apparently, he’d invited her to come along.

  “Hi, Poppy.” Denise eyed me up and down. “I already rang the doorbell. William’s little sister is sleeping but he’ll be out here in a minute. You look . . . different.”

  Out of habit, I reached up to adjust my glasses then realized they weren’t there. “Different than what?”

  She fiddled with the buttons of her perfectly pressed white blouse. “Different than you usually look.”

  I wasn’t sure whether “different” was a compliment or not. But I’d already decided there would be no stuttering, no bowing my head, and no getting pushed around tonight. So, I simply said, “Thank you.”

  Denise crossed her arms. “What happened to your bandage?”

  “It didn’t go with my outfit,” I joked, and then my best smile. “We’re supposed to have fun tonight, so it’s okay to laugh.”

  Her brows rose. “I thought we were working on an article.”

  “Can’t we do both?” I asked. Was I the only one wanting to express my true self without fear of repercussions tonight? To have a good time? With all that I was risking, this had better be the best night of my whole life. Or, at least a lot of fun.

  The front door opened and a tall lanky boy came out. “Got my dad’s car keys . . .” William stopped short in front of me and stared. “Poppy?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering why he was staring like he’d never seen me before.

  “You look so . . .”

  “Different, yes, we’ve covered that.” Denise grabbed William’s arm and pulled him around the side of the house to the garage. “Come on, we don’t want to be out too late.”

  My nerves went on edge and I bit my lip. It seemed beyond obvious that William thought I looked good. Not like geek girl cute, but more like It girl beautiful. It felt odd that just because I put on makeup and dressed trendy that my classmate would look at me differently. I was still the same Clark Kent look-alike just a different version. Maybe I’d changed into Superpoppy.

  Oh, no. That sounded way lame.

  As I climbed into the backseat of William’s car and he gave me a second glance, I couldn’t help thinking that if this was how my friends from the paper reacted, then what would Daniel think when he saw me? Yeah, he’d seen me in my school attire and my Minnie Mouse comfort clothes, but he’d never seen me in club girl mode. Would he think of me the same way?

  I suddenly felt super thankful Trish Benson wouldn’t be at Crush tonight, because new look or not, there would be no more pushing around Poppy Pinkleton.

  ****

  We stood in line for half an hour outside of Crush, which was a plain concrete building with the word “Crush” written over the black door in yellow neon lights. I could hear the girls in front of me complaining about the expensive entry fee. When it was our turn, the three of us just paid our fees, let security check our bags, and followed the others inside and into another world.

  The music thumped at an ear-splitting level, the ceiling was black, and directly in the center of the room was a dance floor. Gyrating teens moved to the fast-paced music while flashing lights blinked across the floor, alternately leaving the dancers illuminated by colorful lights or in the dark.

  Denise took out a piece of paper, wrote something down, then offered to get us all drinks. William reached for my hand and led me to the dance floor. What the . . . ?

  Although William and I had been on the paper for two years, I’d never really thought of William as a boy. I mean, not as a member of the opposite sex in the way he was apparently seeing me tonight. But I didn’t see Daniel anywhere, so I figured dancing would be good personal experience for our article.

  We squeezed between bodies until we were smack in the middle of the dance floor. My ears pounded from the music and I took a deep breath, trying to remember the dance classes I’d taken when I was eight. William wasn’t a bad dancer. No fancy moves, but he’d definitely found the beat. I wasn’t sure what I’d find besides wobbly spaghetti legs. The impracticality of my swooped-over bangs hit me as, despite the hairspray I’d used, my dark hair fell into my eyes as I danced. I had to keep pushing my bangs back so I could see.

  William stepped toward me, then leaned toward my ear.
“Strictly research.”

  “Of course,” I said, trying to loosen the stiffness I felt moving to music while simultaneously feeling like a sardine. After another song, I’d loosened up a little, but I was also starting to sweat. I fanned my face and said, “I’m going to find Denise to get my drink.”

  William nodded, then turned to dance with a group of girls to my left. The redhead looked thrilled and threw her hands above her head, swinging back and forth beside him. He was a stellar student and serious professional on the paper. Had he always had this fun side and I’d never noticed? Weren’t all of my newspaper friends studying on Friday nights like I did?

  Squeezing between bodies and getting knocked into a few times in the process, I made my way to the entrance again, but Denise wasn’t there. I looked to my left and saw a refreshment stand and figured that’s where she’d gone to get us drinks. There was an army of people between the long table and me, so I stepped back against the wall to study them.

  There was a small group of boys, watching the dance floor, making comments to each other and laughing. Another group of girls who were admiring the boys, but they didn’t seem to notice they were being watched. With all of the bodies on the dance floor, there were a handful of couples among them, but for the most part the girls and boys were separate.

  Nowhere did I see Daniel Baker.

  I checked my cell phone. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing. Where was he?

  Just then, Jake Taylor walked in. He wore a black shirt that showed off his arm muscles, dark jeans, and his dark-blond hair was styled up in front. In one word, the guy looked hot. As if sensing me watching, his gaze connected with mine. His eyes widened a fraction, then the side of his mouth hitched upward and he headed straight for me.

  Chapter Eleven

  http://www.dearaubrey.com

  Dear Aubrey,

  I’m at Crush with my group of friends. We want to meet you, girl. You are so the bomb when it comes to advice. But I do respect your need for privacy, so let me go ahead and ask this question here on your site.

  There’s this guy I liked for years but he never noticed me. Now that I’m over him he’s acting kind of interested. What’s with that? The vibe’s not there anymore, but should I give him a chance? I couldn’t have been wrong all those years about how great he is, right?

  Help,

  Totally Torn

  Dear Totally Torn,

  I wish I could meet you but I have to keep my identity a secret so I can continue to work on the column. Glad you’re over your crush on this guy because he sounds like he only wants you because he knows he can’t have you. My advice? Run. Or dance, since you’re at Crush. There are a lot of guys out there and I’m sure you’ll find one who’s worth your while. Have fun!

  Stay real,

  Aubrey

  HYPOTHESIS: Men realize too late when they’ve blown their chance.

  PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: Get girl to find boy who doesn’t play games.

  CONCLUSION: To be determined.

  I found it surprising that Jake and his It crowd friends were not all at Trish’s party. I found it equally surprising that Jake didn’t seem put off by the fact that I had my face in my phone, while I checked my secret column. Not that he knew what I was checking, but still. He seemed unperturbed by my rudeness. Sadly, there were no more posts so I couldn’t stall much longer.

  But I so did not want to talk to Jake. He’d skipped tutoring all week without sending so much as a “thanks, but no thanks” note and he’d trashed my friend’s car. The lack of note I could ignore, but trashing Mason’s car? Unforgivable.

  These things did not make me want to talk to him, especially when I felt determined to speak my true mind tonight just like Aubrey would—if she were, you know, not my invisible alter ego.

  “Poppy?” Jake wore a quizzical look as his gaze swept up and down my body. “That you?”

  “Hi, Jake.” I sighed, not caring if my voice could be heard above the loud music. Guess my teen magazine look was a big hit with the boys. Kind of annoying to be receiving male attention just because I changed my outer appearance. “How’s your studying going?”

  He laughed at my quip. “Would be going better if a certain someone would help me with those take home quizzes.”

  Dillon Brady walked up wearing an interested look as if he’d never seen me before. “Jake, you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  “Poppy Pinkleton, dude. You know her.”

  “No way.” Dillon blinked, seeming unable to believe his eyes. “Nice to see you, Poppy.”

  “Hi, Dillon.” My throat was dry, and I was sweating from the heat in here but I tried my best to remember my vow to remain cool and calm as this It boy eyed me as if I were an It girl. But all of this attention over my looks made me uncomfortable. Couldn’t a guy just be interested in me for who I was? Like Daniel seemed to. . . Speaking of, why hadn’t I seem him here yet? He was beyond late.

  Dillon looked from Jake to me, then back to Jake again. “How do you two know each other?”

  Jake put an arm around me and I couldn’t help but notice how muscular his bicep felt against my bare shoulder. “Poppy’s my history tutor,” he said, leaning his head against mine as if we were going to take a selfie together.

  I pushed him away. “Yeah, when you show up for tutoring, which is never.”

  “I came the first day.” Jake chuckled, seeming to take my little shove as a challenge because he moved closer and I stepped away again. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

  Ignoring his comment, I peeked at my cell again to see if Daniel had called or texted. Still nothing. I looked around for him. Nope, not here. No sign of William or Denise, either. It was just Poppy Pinkleton hanging with two It Boys. Although I did my best not to appear nervous, I felt out of my element and longed for my best friends. Plus, Dillon was staring at me again.

  “Dance?” Jake asked, putting his arm around me.

  A few weeks ago, an offer to dance with Jake Taylor would’ve been a dream come true. But I was still feeling hot and dehydrated from dancing with William and really needed that drink from Denise. And, Jake had trashed Mason’s car.

  “Actually, I’m going to look for my friends.”

  “Come on.” He gave me a puppy dog look and shouted over the music. “Just one song.” He took another step toward me and put his hands on my hips, his face mere centimeters from mine. I didn’t know if it was Jake or dehydration, but suddenly I couldn’t breathe. “Amber’s dating again, so maybe it’s time I did too.”

  Had he just suggested we date? My stomach did a flip, but I’m pretty sure it was from my head injury and dehydration not from what Jake had said. I swallowed, my throat dry and sticky. “I’m . . . meeting someone here. Daniel Baker. He hasn’t shown up yet.”

  Jake’s forehead wrinkled and he gestured his thumb toward the front entrance. “Daniel’s with Trish at her party. I just came from there.”

  The air left my chest and, just like that, the picture of Trish whispering to Daniel during English imprinted back on my brain. Her, bent close to him whispering and him, smiling at whatever she’d said. “Are you sure it was Daniel Baker?” I asked.

  Because that would mean that Daniel had stood me up. For Trish.

  “I’m absolutely sure it was Daniel Baker. He was at Trish’s party. Although, it was pretty dead so can’t figure out why he’d want to stay there.”

  Oh, I could imagine why.

  “Uh . . .” Jake gestured across the room. “Someone’s trying to get your attention.”

  Turning to my left, I spotted Denise holding up a cup of clear soda. I excused myself and hurried over to her. “Thanks, Denise.” I guzzled a long drink and the cold soda slid down my throat like liquid ice. “You totally saved me.”

  “From Jake Taylor or thirst?” she asked.

  “Both.” I finished off the entire drink which soothed my throat and completely revived me. Enough so that I could think clearly again and remember, eve
n though I didn’t want to, what Jake had just told me. Daniel was at Trish’s party. He’d ditched me. For the girl who took pleasure in making me miserable. I remembered how it felt slamming into that pillar, how much it had hurt, and how her laughter had echoed behind me.

  “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Denise tucked her notepad under her arm. “William went to look for you by the refreshment stand. We should wait here until he comes back.”

  “Okay,” I shouted over the music. My feet were rooted in place anyway. My mind frozen on the fact that I’d been a fool to think Daniel liked me. That Trish had gotten to me. Again.

  The song ended and the DJ’s voice came over the speaker. “This next song is a special request going out to Aubrey, of Dear Aubrey. Aubrey, are you in the house? This one’s for you!”

  A recent song release blasted through the room and despite the tears burning my eyes, my chest suddenly radiated. I couldn’t believe Aubrey had just been given a shout out at a popular teen dance club. That basically meant that I’d been given a shout out. I’d tried to be honest and forthright in my advice column and people had liked that, liked Aubrey, liked me. Wow.

  Denise bumped my arm with her elbow. “Think she’s really here?”

  “Aubrey? She said in her column she’d be here . . .”

  Denise gestured toward the crowd. “Any theories on who she is? I’m thinking of writing an article about her.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked, even as my mind simultaneously shot back to Daniel’s betrayal. All of my moments with Daniel had been special to me—the way he’d tap me with his pencil in class and while tutoring in the library, playing basketball together, studying at my house, and the flirtatious exchanges we’d had at school. But obviously those times had meant nothing to him. He’d chosen Trish. The hurt suddenly turned into irritation. “Do you think that’s nice to write an article about Aubrey, Denise? I mean, isn’t the whole point of an anonymous column to not know who the author is? Wouldn’t you be disrespecting her work?”