Ugh. There’s no turning back. I make a run for the door, knowing she’ll hear it slam behind me. I just hope I can make it across her yard and down the street before she catches me. Except at the exact moment I reach the door, Abi’s car alarm goes off. It’s loud enough to hide the slamming door. Heck, it would be loud enough to hide the sound of a freight train running through their house. Once again, Abi to the rescue.
As I race through the neighbors’ yards, I shoot her a text.
Lexi: I owe you big time. Meet me at my house once you’ve gotten rid of that snake.
I circle back around through Nick’s neighborhood to retrieve my car, stop by Starbucks for two mocha lattes, and pull up to my house to find Abi waiting for me on the front porch.
“What are you doing?” I hiss at her. “What if someone from school were to drive by and see you sitting here? Quick, get inside.”
“You’re welcome.” She stands and follows me into the den. “No, really. It’s no problem. Just because I’ll be up until two in the morning finishing my history essay on the fall of the Berlin Wall doesn’t mean you have to act grateful.”
“Sorry.” I hand her one of the lattes. “I am grateful. It’s just that I’ve been freaked out enough about being outed this afternoon. If Nick had caught me … you were brilliant, by the way.”
Abi sinks onto a recliner and sips at her coffee. “Would that really be so bad?”
“What? If he’d caught me?” I shudder at the thought. “Do you know he was standing three feet away when he came to get that net? I don’t know how he missed me.”
“I mean being outed, being known as the Boyfriend Whisperer. There are some happy couples out there who might want to thank you.”
I roll my eyes. “Abi, we’ve been through this before. Not an option.” First of all, if people knew my identity, it would make my job harder. Second, my guy friends would never let me live it down. Most of them think the whole concept of the Boyfriend Whisperer is absurd. Of course, some of those same guys have unwittingly been whispered, so that shows how much they know. But now, most important, is Chris. I’m pretty sure he’d be pissed to find out he’s been whispered and even more pissed to know it was by me.
Abi scoots forward in the recliner. “It must be killing you.”
“What?”
“Chris and Lindsay. They’re so … kissy face together. It even bugs me.”
It’s true. They’re the ultimate insta-couple. They’ve been together less than two weeks, but it’s like they’re practically married. The worst is at lunch. Lindsay eats with us every A Day now and completely monopolizes the conversation, not to mention the fact that she touches Chris an average of 253.5 times a minute.
Part of me wants to break down and cry right here in front of Abi. Instead, I plaster on the fake smile that has become my go-to expression. “He’s happy. She’s happy. That’s what Boyfriend Whisperer Enterprises is all about.”
Abi rolls her eyes. “Earth to Lexi. Boyfriend Whisperer Enterprises is a product of your imagination.”
“And hard work.”
“Okay, and hard work. But that means it can be whatever you want it to be. Or it can … not be at all. Wait, wait, wait. Hear me out.” She holds up her hands to shush the protest she knows is coming. “Think about this. Nothing lasts forever, especially not high school stuff. That’s what college is for—so we can get away from all the messes we’ve created. You’re always talking about people taking charge of their own destiny. Why not take charge of your destiny and shut BFW down now? Go out while you’re on top?”
“I can’t.”
Abi sighs. “I try.”
I scoot forward and set down my coffee, my voice low. “I need to tell you something. Can you keep a secret?”
She narrows her eyes and purses her lips.
“Right. Sorry. Of course you can.” I shake my head in an apology. “Okay.” Another deep breath. “I’m not planning to shut it down. Not this year, not next year … maybe never.”
Abi’s eyebrows creep up. “Um, Lexi, I hate to break it to you, but your grades are way too high for this plan to work. Unless you plan to purposely flunk senior year in perpetuity?”
“Perpetuity? Nice word.”
She sticks out her tongue. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”
“I never said you were a pretty face. I mean, obviously, you have a pretty face, but I know you’re smart. Anyway. The Boyfriend Whisperer. I want to keep it going even after I’m gone. After I graduate. I was thinking about going to NoVa part-time to take some business courses and some web courses so I can turn the Boyfriend Whisperer into a franchise. I’ll start with Loudoun County schools, but eventually, I want it to go nationwide—a BFW in every high school in the country.”
“Whoa.” Abi waves her hands in the air. “Back up. First of all, NoVa? As in, community college? Lexi, I’m not one to diss community college, but, hello? They don’t have basketball. What are you even talking about?”
I close my eyes. This is a conversation I’ll have to have many times over the next fifteen months if I want to make my plan a reality. “I know it sounds weird, and I know I’m going to sound like an ungrateful brat, but I don’t think I want to play college ball.”
“What?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love the game. I’d miss it. I’d probably think about coaching at the Y or something like that, but I’m just … over it.”
“What do you mean, over it?”
“The pressure, the team drama, the stats. I don’t want four more years of it.”
“But … wow.” Abi slumps back into her chair and lets out a low whistle. “Have you told your parents?”
I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“Guess not. Holy cow. So not Coach, or Chris, or anyone?”
“Abi, no one else knows about the Boyfriend Whisperer. How could I?”
“Right. So how will you?”
“I don’t know. I figure I have at least until the fall to figure that out. At that point, the colleges are going to start getting super pushy. Anyway, what do you think? Can I pull it off?”
“You? Hells yeah, if anyone can. But are you sure you want to? Don’t you get tired of all the hassle and secrecy and … what is that bruise on your forehead?”
I dab at the tender spot where Nick Garland’s fishing rod whacked me. “Occupational hazard. And no, I don’t get tired of it. It’s fun coaching my clients. And if I franchise the businesses, I’ll get to coach all my franchisees on how to do the same thing for their clients. How cool is that?”
Abi looks doubtful, but she nods. “If that’s what you want, I’ll support you. Or at least cheer you on. With my pretty cheerleader face.”
I laugh and give her a fist bump. “Thank you. That actually means a lot to me. Now, tell me. What’s going on with you and Briggsy?”
“Ugh. Briggs.” Abi sighs, and her eyes grow misty, as they tend to do when the conversation turns to her ex. “Nothing’s going on. We’re done. I’ve moved on.”
The catch in her voice tells me she most definitely has not moved on. “Listen, Abi, I’m not one to say a girl needs a boyfriend. And you of all people can get along just fine without Briggsy or anyone else. You’re smart, strong, resourceful … who else would have thought to tell Nick Garland she had a snake in her car? But it’s obvious you miss Briggs. And he misses you, too.”
Abi trains her eyes on mine. “Did he say something?”
I look away and say nothing. Discretion. Even when it’s Abi.
“Whatever. Like I said, we’re done. I may miss him, but I don’t miss watching him flirt with other girls when he’s supposed to be with me. At least now when I see him flirting, it’s simple jealousy and not humiliation.” Abi sniffles, and I give her a sympathetic smile.
She’s right, of course. Briggs is an insatiable flirt. The thing is, I honestly believe he doesn’t mean to be. He’s just naturally charming and funny and outgoing
. I don’t think he even knows how to dial it back. I suppose that can be tough on a girlfriend.
Abi’s phone buzzes. She checks her text and frowns. “Anita Alvarez. She’s our third applicant in the past twenty-four hours.”
I sigh. “Guess it’s officially prom season.”
“Yippee.” Abi takes a sip of her latte.
What can I say to cheer her up? I give her a conspiratorial grin. “So, about Nick’s little sister …”
Her eyes grow wide. “He doesn’t have one, does he?”
“I don’t think so.”
We both melt into giggles.
“Oh my gosh,” she says. “That is so awesome. Nick Garland. Who would have thought?”
“I know, right? With the flannel shirts and the pickup truck.”
“And the bumper sticker that says, ‘I love animals. They’re delicious.’” Abi squeals. “We should get him a My Little Pony bumper sticker.”
“Ah, ah, ah.” I shake my finger at her. “What’s the word?”
She rolls her eyes and pouts. “I know. Mum.”
“Exactly. No one can know.”
“Whatever.” Abi sits up, her face suddenly serious. “So do you think he’s more of a Twilight Sparkle guy? Or Rainbow Dash?”
We both lose it all over again.
I jab Chris hard with an elbow to the side and take the shot.
“What was that?” He bends over and rubs the spot where I semi-impaled him.
“You were crowding the basket. What was I supposed to do?”
It’s the first Saturday morning in March, and it’s a gorgeous day—sunny and crisp. I’ve challenged Chris to a game of one-on-one because I wanted to do something with just the two of us, like old times. Like up until twelve days ago, not that I’m counting. Except this is nothing like old times, because all I can think about is the fact that Chris has a girlfriend.
“Let’s take a break.” He pulls a small towel out of his waistband and strolls toward a bench at the side of the court. He sounds tired.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come in so hard. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I have some Gatorade in the car if you’re thirsty.”
He grins. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Dude. Gatorade is scientifically formulated to provide maximum electrolytes. How could you expect coconut water to beat it?”
“I didn’t say I expected coconut water to beat it; I said I wanted it to. It’s called rooting for the underdog—a concept someone with your competitive streak might not understand.”
“Pssh.” I shake my head. “Remind me to bet against you on the March Madness brackets.”
Chris is still rubbing his side, but I know I didn’t hurt him that bad. Something else is bothering him. I wait for him to tell me, but he says nothing. Finally, to break the silence, I ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my mind for the past sixteen hours. I know I shouldn’t bring it up, but I can’t help it. I try to sound casual. “So, what did you and Lindsay end up doing last night?”
Chris buries his face in the towel and makes a show of wiping his forehead. “Fight, mostly.”
“Oh?” Trouble in paradise? My heart kicks up a happy dance inside my chest. Stupid heart. “What about?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. She’s a tad annoyed with me right now. We’ll work it out.” He leans back on the bench and stares at the sky. “I asked her to prom.” Something about the way he says it seems almost like a confession, as though he doesn’t want to tell me. My heart stops dancing and starts pounding. Can he sense my jealousy? Is that why things have become so awkward between us?
I hold up my hand and give him a high five. “That’s awesome.” I hope the enthusiasm in my voice doesn’t sound too forced. “Gosh, that’s kind of a long ways away.” Seven weeks. And seven hours, not that I’m counting. He must really be into her if he’s looking that far ahead. Or maybe he felt like he had to ask her to make up for the fighting?
Chris’s eyes meet mine. “I need to ask you something. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”
I nod and brace myself. Does he want my advice on dealing with a pissed off girlfriend? Or—ugh—maybe my opinion on whether he should make a move now that they’ve been dating for almost two weeks? Or—double ugh—is he going to ask about my own spectacularly lame love life?
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Remember that time in the seventh grade when a bunch of us decided to play dodgeball behind the school?”
Um. Okay. That would’ve been my next guess. I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“You were captain, and out of all the kids at Sterling Middle, you picked me first to be on your team.”
“Okay.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me? I was a total doofus back then. There were at least ten other guys, and a bunch of girls, who would have been better picks.”
What the … ? “Probably because you were my best friend, and I wanted you on my team?”
“Yeah, well. It didn’t work out too great for you. Jacob Blackwell knocked me out in the first round. Pounded me right here.” He points to his left shoulder.
“Wow. Good memory.” Who knew dodgeball scars ran so deep? “So you’re bringing this up now because … ?”
Chris looks away and begins tapping his left foot. “It just seemed like a strange move; that’s all. I mean, you’re so intent on winning all the time, and—”
“Chris! It was dodgeball, not the Olympics.”
“I think you felt sorry for me. It was a pity pick.” His voice takes on an edge. He’s upset, and I have no idea why. Maybe I did jab him too hard.
“Listen. I’m not sure what’s going on with you. I’m sorry I elbowed you. And I guess I’m sorry I picked you first in dodgeball, though that seems like an odd thing to hold a grudge about after all this—”
“It’s not a grudge. That’s not the point. Don’t you see?” Chris lets out a frustrated groan and again shifts his gaze toward the sky.
“No. I don’t see.” I grab his chin and turn it toward me. “Explain.”
He blinks and reaches up to grab my hand. “It’s …” His voice trails off, and for a moment, sitting so close, I feel as though I’m swallowed up in his blue eyes. The sadness that lurks there disorients me. His hand slides down my wrist and up my arm. His touch is so light, so tentative. I lean toward him, silently willing him to keep going, to run his hands over my shoulders, up to my neck, to draw me close, and—
His cell phone rings, and he pulls away, snapping me back to reality. He checks the screen and sighs. “Sorry.”
“Is that Lindsay?”
“Yeah.”
“You should take it.” I choke the words out. What’s wrong with me? Chris has a girlfriend. One he has asked to prom. A girl I set him up with, for crying out loud. I need to wake up and deal with it.
Chris wanders across the court. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but his tone of voice is uncharacteristically sharp. They’re obviously still arguing.
Chris slips his phone into his pocket and trudges back toward me. “I gotta go.”
“Everything okay?”
“She’s having issues with her mom right now. I feel like she needs someone to talk to.”
I nod and wave him toward his car. “Go. Definitely. You’re a good boyfriend.” It’s true. I only wish I weren’t so petty as to hold that against him.
He pauses as he opens his car door. “I’m really sorry, Lex. Rain check?”
I give him a thumbs-up. “Sounds good.” This morning isn’t turning out the way I’d planned anyway. Why can’t Chris just tell me what’s bothering him? We’ve been best friends for eight years—or at least I thought we have. Who knew he resented being picked first in dodgeball? What other transgressions has he been holding against me all this time?
The next week is completely crazy. I have so many Boyfriend Whisperer assignments, I barely have time to think about Chris and Lindsay. That is, until Thursday afternoon when Lindsay shouts to me as I’m rounding the corner to F Hall on my way to meet Abi.
“Lexi, there you are!”
I twirl around. What’s she doing here? No one ever comes down to this part of the school. “Hey, Lindsay. ’Sup?”
“Chris and I have missed you at lunch this week. Where’ve you been?”
I shrug. I doubt they’ve missed me at all, though I suppose it’s sweet of her to say so. “Lots of projects due.”
“Oh, I know. Isn’t it ridiculous? It’s like the teachers don’t realize we have lives.” Lindsay leans in a little. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’d like to come bowling with us Saturday morning. We’re going to check out that new place in Leesburg.”
Bowling? She doesn’t strike me as the type. No pun intended. “Um. Like I said, I’m pretty swamped right now with all my—”
“Oh, come on.” She gives my arm a playful slap. “It’ll be fun. Take a couple hours off to hang with your friends.”
Friends. Is that what we are? Because I can barely handle being around her. I take a deep breath. She’s right, of course. And I’m being petty, as usual. And if I want to stay friends with Chris—and let’s face it, no stupid crush is worth losing my best friend over, even if they do happen to be the same person—maybe I need to start making Lindsay my friend, too. “Sure,” I say, again forcing a smile. “You’re absolutely right. A couple of hours can’t hurt.”
I circle around and down another hallway until I’m sure she’s gone before heading back toward the closet. The late bell is going to ring in about two minutes, and Abi’s going to kill me.
The Boyfriend Whisperer Page 8