Popularity is Just an Equation

by A. R. Perry

  Nash rolls his eyes and shoves another mammoth bite of pizza into his mouth. This is the last thing I want to talk about, so I don’t even know why I brought it up. All I want to do is mindlessly play some games, then get home and pass out. At least then I’ll be too tired to fixate on Piper all night again.

  Jordan runs a hand over his buzzed head. “Man. Did she go ape-shit and trash the place?”

  “No, but she might be plotting revenge.”

  “How’s Piper gonna take the news?” he asks.

  “What does Piper have to do with this?” The tone of my voice shoots up to a level I didn’t realize I could hit. Even if they weren’t my best friends, I’m pretty sure at this point they could put two and two together here.

  “Well…” Nash shares a look with Jordan. “You guys have been hanging out a lot. We just figured—”

  “We’re not dating,” I snap, needing Nash to hear those words. Needing to say them out loud for my benefit and his.

  Jordan laughs, shaking his head. “No one said you were. But Cristy will see her as a threat.”

  “Yeah. Remember when that freshman smiled at you before winter break? I thought a vein might burst in her head. That poor girl transferred schools after.”

  “She was an exchange student. She went back home.”

  “Whatever.” Nash waves off my statement. “Piper seems too sweet to get mixed in with Cristy. She’ll get eaten alive.”

  “You should ask her out.” And put me out of my misery.

  Nash reels back as if I punched him. “What?”

  Please don’t make me say it again. Although if he did ask her out, it might make this ache in my chest stop. Once I see them together, I know I’ll get over it. Or want to punch him in the face, but I’m trying to stick with the optimistic outlook.

  “I’m not asking out your—” Jordan elbows his leg, and Nash clears his throat. “Friend.”

  The word hangs in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. They’re both looking at me as if I’m going to deny it or claim her as something else. Not happening. I may not want to help her with this ridiculous plan anymore, but I’m not outing her.

  “I gotta go.” As I get up, I smack Nash’s shoulder.

  “You just got here.”

  “I forgot my mom needed me to mow the lawn. If she gets home, and it’s not done, I’ll be forced to pick up extra shifts.”

  “I’ll catch a ride,” Jordan says, as he stands and stretches his arms over his head. “I don’t think I can take getting my ass whopped one more time.”

  “Later, losers.” Nash reclines on the couch, propping a foot on the table. “I’ll be at my cousin’s wedding tomorrow, so I guess I’ll see you Tuesday. Coach will be out for blood so make sure you get a run in.”

  I salute as I head toward the front door. So much for zoning out and not thinking about Piper.

  When we step out onto the porch, Jordan is grinning at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugs as he opens the passenger-side door. “Just think it’s cute is all.”

  “What is cute?”

  “Your crush on Red.”

  I turn over the car, clenching my teeth so hard they ache. If oblivious Jordan is catching on, it won’t be long until Nash and then Piper do. That I can’t have.

  “She likes Nash. I’m trying to help her out.”

  “Uh-huh.” He props a foot on my dashboard, at ease while there is a storm raging in my gut.

  “Look, she asked me to help win him over and that’s what I’m doing. End of story.” I glance over at his smug grin when I stop at a red light. “If you tell him about this, they’ll never find your body.”

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m a vault. But man, this is kinda twisted. We’ve seen you with her and you don’t act like you’re just helping her.”

  “Yeah, well, I am.”

  He lets the subject drop as I accelerate onto the freeway. Part of me wonders if he’s just not pushing it ‘cause he’s scared I’ll ditch him on the side of the road. Which I will do if he brings it up again.

  This whole situation is so screwed. I know I need to end it for good but every time I think I’m on the verge, a sharp burst of anxiety takes over because it would mean Piper and I would not be spending time together anymore. As much as I hate to admit it out loud, I would miss her. She’s cute and funny and sarcastic and somehow puts me at ease whenever she’s around.

  I haven’t even stressed about college and my dad since we started hanging out.

  When did this girl burrow in so deep? A couple of weeks ago I was fine. Sure, being dumped by Cristy wasn’t the best feeling, but I would have moved on to a girl I stand a chance with.

  “Maybe you should tell her the truth,” Jordan says as we roll to a stop in front of his house.

  I miss the silence already.

  With a groan, I shake my head. “There’s nothing to tell. I just have to let her down easy. Nash invited her to his party in front of everyone. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

  Jordan shrugs. “It sure pissed Cristy off.”

  “Reassuring.”

  He chuckles and props open the door. “Talk to her.”

  I nod. We need to talk all right, but I still don’t know if it will be telling her the truth or breaking off this arrangement.

  “Later.” Jordan slams the door, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.

  It’s a very dangerous situation to be in because I’m fighting hard not to drive over to her house and finish what my parents interrupted.

  Or maybe it’s to tell her I can’t be her friend anymore.

  I guess I have the next twenty-four hours to think it over.

  Why am I here right now?

  There is no way this will end well.

  I tap my fingers on the door handle where my hand has been resting for at least ten minutes. This time I parked down the street so Carter won’t catch me sitting here like a creep, trying to muster the courage to step out. On the drive here it seemed so easy. But now—now I’m having trouble mustering up that badass courage Blythe instilled in me.

  Why?

  Because last night was weird.

  Blythe knew something was wrong right away. Might have had something to do with the fact that I was wearing Carter’s clothes or that the shock hadn’t faded in the time it took to drive the five minutes up the hill separating our houses.

  She supplied me with ice cream and a box of my favorite cookies and demanded I spill. So I did, starting with how we almost kissed and how I so, so wanted to.

  Desperate is the only word to describe the feeling.

  Never have I wanted someone’s lips on mine more. Not even John during the years we were together.

  When his parents came in, catching us in such a compromising position, I was shell-shocked more than anything. For a minute Carter was right there with me in desire land, but then he couldn’t usher me out of the house fast enough. I’m surprised he didn’t Tasmanian devil around the house, collecting my stuff to rid himself of me quicker.

  And the look in his eyes…regret. That’s all I saw.

  So now I’m here to return his clothes because Blythe said I had to. After listening to the whole story and me admitting that I am full-on confused about how I feel about him, she said I need to end the plan and tell him the truth before I end up with a second round of heartbreak. With nothing but anxiety filling my stomach, and rationality fleeing my body, I figured returning his clothes was the easiest way to strike up the conversation.

  A conversation that so cannot happen at school with thousands of prying ears.

  I can picture it. Carter won’t take it well when I admit this whole thing has been one big ole lie. I lied about liking his friend. I lied about my real motives. At no point since we’ve been hanging out have I been honest about my intentions. He’s just not going to forgive all that and profess undying love. No rational person would be that forgiving.

&nbs
p; Ugh. Nope. Can’t do this.

  I reach into my bag and pull out my phone, dialing Blythe.

  “No way you told him already,” she says the second the line connects.

  “He’s going to hate me.”

  She sighs. “You don’t know that for sure. He might understand. Besides, it’s not as if you’re some evil mastermind. So, you told a white lie about having a crush on his friend when he brought it up. If you never approached him then he wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with you.”

  “He’s not madly in love,” I mumble, tracing the stitching on the steering wheel.

  “I’ve seen the puppy eyes. They don’t lie.”

  “He’s going to hate me,” I repeat because it bears repeating. Calling off this plan is one thing, but Carter hating me is different. I couldn’t handle that.

  “Piper, he won’t hate you. He’ll understand. Now get your chicken butt up there and talk to him.”

  I take a deep breath and hold it, only releasing it after I’ve counted to five in my head. My heartbeat slows down marginally. “Okay. Call you when I’m done.”

  Tossing my phone into my bag, I climb out of my car and pause for a moment, steadying my nerves before walking up the sidewalk toward Carter’s house.

  Since it’s Monday, most of the driveways are empty. We’re off today for some random holiday that most of the world doesn’t celebrate. I chose the middle of the day because his parents wouldn’t be home to interrupt us again. I don’t need them hearing what a crappy person I am. Carter hating me will suck as it is—I don’t need the entire Jackson clan in on the hate train.

  The house is quiet as I walk up the porch steps. So quiet in fact, I backtrack to check if Carter’s car is in the driveway since I had my head down the whole time, pretending to be very interested in my shoes in case someone happened by so they wouldn’t see fear and shame painted all over my face.

  Yup, his truck is here, which means there’s no solid excuse to back out now.

  Maybe he’s napping or something.

  I knock and it sounds way too loud. Aliens inhabiting Mars had to have heard it.

  Maybe he’s out with friends and they picked him up. At least then I would have a reason for not spilling my guts today.

  As I wait, I fidget with the rings on my middle finger—black tourmaline, because at this point I need all the help I can get. I boosted it from my mom’s jewelry box, but she won’t care. In fact, she might be surprised that I’ve retained information on all her healing crystal ways.

  Okay, I’m giving this five more seconds before bailing. Desperation doesn’t mix well with deceit.

  One-one thousand.

  Walk away. He’s not home.

  Two-one thousand.

  He clearly doesn’t want to see me or he would have texted or called.

  Three-one—

  When the door swings open, I choke on a startled breath. Coughing a few times, I slap my hand on my chest as I take Carter in.

  He’s standing in front of me with a bemused expression on his face, as if he can’t believe I had the guts to show up after the incident. If that’s not bad enough, he also looks borderline edible. I’m not even joking. His dark-wash jeans are slung low, granting me a peek of his hipbones once again. The white shirt clinging to his muscles is a bit wrinkled and his hair is disheveled, telling me he might actually have been napping.

  At least I hope he was napping.

  Oh, God. What if he is here with some girl and I interrupted their makeout sesh?

  I should have called first.

  I can’t leave now, though, no matter how much my brain is telling me to abort.

  “Hey,” I choke out.

  “Hey…” His gaze sweeps over me, pausing on my thighs before shooting up to meet me head-on. The only response I get is a slight arch of his brows.

  Okay, so I wore the hoochie shorts. Figured it couldn’t hurt. If Blythe is right, and he does have a crush on me, then they will distract him enough so he doesn’t hate me for what I’m about to say.

  “I brought your clothes back. Even washed them.” I pull them out of my purse to hand over. “Figured you wouldn’t want me to give them back at school. Might give people the wrong impression.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.” He takes them from me and when our fingers brush, I try to stomp down the nervous energy swirling in my stomach.

  Once he has his clothes, we stand in awkward silence. My speech refuses to come out, even though I practiced it twelve times with Blythe. Doesn’t help that Carter isn’t giving me any signals. Completely passive. Not a single emotion on his face. Forget teaching me to be popular, he needs to teach me that trick.

  “Okay, then. I should…go?” I mean it as a statement, but it comes out as a question because I’m as spineless as a jellyfish.

  If he agrees, I’m going to walk off a bridge.

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair, but doing nothing to tame the wild waves. “You hungry? I was about to make lunch.”

  My heart does a backflip at the offer. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or elation, but I nod. At least this is proof there isn’t a girl waiting for him. “I could eat.”

  He steps aside and swings the door open wider so I can fit through. Well, in theory, I should be able to fit through, but I’m so out of whack, my sandal catches on the lip of the door and I end up falling forward. My nose smacks into Carter’s shoulder, filling my eyes with tears and making me want to run all the way home since my purse and keys flew somewhere inside his house.

  Under the coffee table?

  I heard it hit something solid.

  Perhaps that’s the ringing in my head. The boy is built like a freaking brick house.

  Focus. Keys.

  Oh, screw it, who needs a car anyway?

  “You okay?” His arms wrap around my lower back as he helps steady me while also cutting off the flow of erratic thoughts.

  “Yeah.” A giggle bubbles out, sounding so unlike me it’s almost frightening.

  I want to disappear. Not only because I’ve spazed out and forgotten how to use my legs, but because Carter is still holding on to me. One of his hands is pressed into the curve right above my butt while the other is clutching at the fabric of my tank in a tight fist. God, I like it. I like it so much I never want to move from this spot again. Sure, it will make going to school and living a normal life difficult, but I’m up for the challenge.

  Carter apparently is not.

  His hands slide up my back and come to rest on my shoulders with a harsh exhalation before he gives me a gentle push away from him, creating a sad gap between our bodies.

  Now I can’t even look him in the eye. He’ll see it. All my fear and need. Blythe was so wrong. No guy who has the hots for a girl could feel this cold.

  “So, um, sandwiches sound good?” He scratches the back of his ear, focusing on a spot to the left of me by the front window.

  “Sure?”

  What’s with my brain today? Is everything going to be a question? Am I a freaking bridge troll who only talks in riddles and questions? Ah! I’m even doing it to myself.

  “A sandwich sounds great.” There, a normal sentence.

  Carter nods toward the kitchen as he shuts the front door. With all the lights off and the blinds drawn, we’re submerged i darkness. It’s all too familiar. Too close to last night. My brain can’t handle that—it’s seconds away from shorting out.

  “So. Sandwiches. Yum,” I say as I brush past him, flicking on every light switch on the way to the kitchen.

  Our history proves we can’t be trusted in the dark.

  Carter trails behind me in silence. I’d take him being mad at me over whatever this is. I’ve never seen the boy go so long without speaking, and it’s giving me way too much time to overthink. Overthinking is not something I want when I’m about to admit that I’m a gigantic liar. If we continue with this weird duel silent treatment, I’m going to just blurt it out with little to no tact.

 
I’ve got to break the silence. “You have any plans for tonight?” I ask, taking a seat at the small island.

  “Just homework.” He peers into the fridge, then lets out a disjointed hum. “I guess my mom didn’t go shopping yesterday. So, I guess I can’t offer you a sandwich.”

  My face falls. He’s kicking me out. Jesus. He should have said bye at the door instead of coming up with the lamest excuse on the planet.

  I stand, trying my best to bottle up the disappointment and sting of his rejection. “Okay. I’ll just…” I point toward the door.

  “We can go grab something.”

  His words stop me in my tracks. “What?”

  A slight smile breaks free before it’s once again smothered out by his blasé mask. “I said we can grab something. If you’re still hungry.”

  “Oh, yeah, right, like at a restaurant?”

  There’s that hint of a smile again. “Yeah, a restaurant or fast food. Whatever you’re in the mood for.”

  “No, restaurant sounds great. It’s healthier and with football, I’m sure you want to stay as healthy as can be. I wish I was healthier. I should take up running or something.” Stop talking. “So. Cool. A restaurant is perfect.” I clear my throat, trying to avoid his bewildered stare because I kinda sound like a babbling idiot right now. “Just you and me at a restaurant.” Awesome. A bunch of people to witness when I tell you I’m a terrible person.

  “But not like a date or anything.” His tone dips lower, almost whispering the word date.

  “No, of course, it’s not a date because—”

  “You like Nash.”

  Our gazes collide, and I swear he’s trying to peer right into my brain—peel back all the tissue and read my thoughts. There’s an undertone to his words, something hidden in the cracks that I just can’t make out. It’s not quite bitter, but raw nonetheless.

  Sadness maybe?

  “Right…listen about Nash—”

  “I’ll grab my keys.” His knuckles tap once on the peeling counter before he nods almost to himself and rushes out of the room.

  I press a clammy palm to my forehead, demanding my heart slow the hell down. It doesn’t listen because I’m about to have lunch with Carter at a restaurant with lots of witnesses to my admission. A few days ago, this would have been nothing. We would eat. Laugh. Talk a bit. Now, though, I have this weird fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach coupled with the beginning stages of a migraine as the words I need to say remained locked up.