Heather is completely oblivious to Rob’s discomfort. How nice straitlaced Rob ended up related to someone as free and uninhibited as Heather is a genetic mystery.
Heather
prattles on and on while Rob picks thongs off of his shirt. He turns slightly, and I notice a hot pink pair clinging to his back. I wonder if I should tell him?
“
Hey, Jule, go try this on,” Heather says suddenly, tossing a sheer black teddy at me. Then she turns back to Rob. “Since you’re here, you can give us a guy’s perspective. Juliet plans on losing her V card tonight, so—”
“
Heather!” I growl through compressed lips. “Shut
up
!” I force a smile to my lips when I look at her brother. “She’s kidding, Rob. I don’t even—who wears stuff like this, anyway?” I make a noise like a deflating balloon, and toss the teddy over my shoulder.
“I do,”
Heather says, finally taking the hint. “This is all for me. In fact, I’m going to go pay for it now. Hey, Jule, I can borrow some money, right?”
Gritting my teeth,
I dig into my purse for my debit card. “Of course.”
Rob frowns disapprovingly down at her. “And why do you need to wear this crap,
Heather?”
Heather
waves her hand around dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on any
guy
ever seeing me in it,” she says airily. “Just knowing I have it on makes me feel pretty, you know?”
“No,” he says, and shudders profoundly.
Heather goes to pay for the lacy garments, and Rob asks me if we’d like to get something to eat at the food court. I agree, and after my best friend makes me a hundred and thirty dollars poorer, we all stroll over to Boppy’s for some ice cream.
It’s nice catching up with Rob. I haven’t seen him in forever—and even though a glob of ice cre
am drips down my chin, which he laughingly wipes off for me—we have a good time reminiscing about the trouble Heather and I got into as adventurous preteens.
I get so caught up in memorie
s, I don’t even notice the time until I happen to glance at Rob’s sporty watch. “Crap!” I blurt out. “It’s late! We’ve got to go home and get ready for the party.”
Again, I invite Rob to come with us, but he declines
. Before we part ways, he asks if he can have my number so we can keep in touch. While I’m programming his number into my phone, Heather gives me an owlish look. It’s so creepy that I have to laugh, and mouth, “What?” at her. She just shakes her head.
“I wasn’t even thinking,” I say as head toward the exit. “The game must be over by now. I wonder if they won?”
I check my phone for updates from the guys, but there’s nothing recent.
“Either way works in your favor,”
Heather says with a shrug. “If they won, y’all can celebrate with your vajayjay. If they lost—well, same deal.”
“That’s absolutely disgusting,
” I say. “I could, like, attach streamers and balloons to it.”
“You could vajazzle
it,” Heather says with a straight face. “Like, with pink rhinestones shaped in an arrow, pointing downwards. No, seriously, I’ve seen it—it’s so hot!”
“I would never vajazzl
e it.” I wrinkle my nose. “Who does that?”
Of course while talking about this
, we run into someone I know. Arianna, the girlfriend of Ben—one of Johnny’s friends. We’ve been to the movies a few times with them. I really don’t know her that well, since she completely ignored me both times.
It almost looks like she
’s going to walk right past us—and I know she saw me. She’s got a strange furtive look on her pretty face. Her gaze falls on me, then quickly darts away.
“Hey, Arianna,” I say unenthusiastically. “Do you know who won tonight?”
She barely looks at me. “We did,” she mutters without stopping. She walks right past us.
“Okay, thanks. Nice talking to you
,” I call after her. She doesn’t look back.
Heather
turns around to watch her go. “Who was that? She’s cute.”
I shake my head. “Let’s get out of here.”
On the way back to my house, Heather receives a text that makes her go, “Uh-oh.”
“What?” I turn to her warily.
“My mom found my stash of dirty clothes—the ones I’ve been hiding when it’s my turn to do laundry.” She frowns down at her phone when it beeps again. “I’ve been throwing them up on that shelf in the garage—you know, the one that we put the camping stuff that we never use? Well, she climbed up there to get the cooler down, and apparently she got buried under an avalanche of dirty clothes. I’m in huge trouble. I have to go home, like, now and do all those loads.”
“What—no!
Heather!” I whine. “You can’t miss the party. I need you there for moral support.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” she says optimistically. “Just let nature take its course.”
“Let nature take its course? What kind of advice is that? I’m not a meerkat,” I snap.
She giggles “What made you think of meerkats?”
“I don’t know, there was a special on the Discovery Channel the other night. You have to come! You’re going.”
“I’m not.”
“Please!” I sigh. “It’s a big moment in my life.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” she says, keeping her eyes on the road. “Don’t you play the guilt card with me, Juliet Somers. Not after you abandon me senior year to go to your boyfriend’s school.”
“I had to. We never see each other, what with work and football practice, and me always going to my dad’s on the weekend…”
“I know,”
Heather says comfortingly. “I wasn’t serious. Look, you’ll be fine. Put on your sexy new underwear and rock Johnny’s world!”
I
sink down in my seat, crushing my shopping bags against me. “I hate parties. I’ll hardly know anyone there.”
She shoots me a sly look. “You know Dean.”
“Ugh,” I groan, putting a bag over my face. “Don’t remind me.”
She laughs. “Have either of you even told
Johnny about your sordid past?”
“No,
it’s ancient history—and not that big of a deal. I hardly see Dean, anyway, and when I do, he just kinda ignores me. Which is totally fine by me.”
Heather
pulls haphazardly into my driveway. “Don’t worry, Jule, I’m sure tonight will end up being one of the most memorable nights of your life. And if it does work out with Johnny—sexually, that is—there’s always room on my team’s bench for you.”
“Oh, go vajazzle yourself
,” I mutter, opening the car door.
******
Chapter 3
I text
Johnny a quick congratulations before I start getting ready. When he doesn’t text me back, I hop in the shower. I take a long hot one, letting the water spray me in the face. I make sure to shave carefully, and I scrub myself vigorously with my pink sugar body wash. I wash my hair as well, weirdly paranoid that it smells like popcorn.
When I’m done, I wrap my towel around me, and check my phone. Nothing yet from
Johnny. He’s probably busy celebrating with his teammates, and getting ready for the party. I shrug to myself and pad into my bedroom to get dressed.
I put on the sparkly p
ink set, but ditch the garters…I’d feel silly in them. I slip on a form-fitting black V neck shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, do my hair up in a sloppy ponytail, and slap on some makeup. I know, I should make more of an effort, but I’m nervous enough as it is, so I’m dressing for comfort. Well, the outside at least. I kinda hate thongs.
I check my phone again. Still nothing from Johnny, so I decide to call him. It rings and rings, and just when I think I’m going to get put through to his voice mail, he answers.
“Yeah?
” he says. He sounds distracted.
“Hey, you,” I say, unsettled by the tone of his voice. “Uh, I heard you guys won. Congratulations!”
There is a short, but distinct pause. “Thanks,” he says finally. What’s with him? Is he drunk already?
“Yeah,” I mutter. “So, I’m going to be a little late for the party, but I’ll see you there
. Okay?”
“Sure.”
Click.
What the hell? Why is he in a pissy mood—they won, right?
I can’t believe he hung up on me.
Shoot, I should have asked him for a ride.
I tap my fingers on my leg, thinking. I have a car, but I don’t drive once the sun goes down—I have terrible night vision, as well as this weird phobia about driving in the dark. I could call a cab, I guess, but I don’t really want to spend more money than I already did today. It’s not like I’m rolling in dough, not like some people.
Maybe I
shouldn’t go, if he’s got his panties in a wad. Then my shoulders fall. No, I promised him I would. I’d been dodging parties for long enough. It was time I start making an effort. Part of being Johnny’s girlfriend is socializing with all of his friends, and I need to stop making excuses not to.
Speaking of his friends…
I flip through my contacts for Nick’s number. Maybe I can catch him before he leaves for the party. Like Heather, Nick is late for everything. I cross my fingers and tap his name on the screen.
“What up, Juliet?” Nick
cheerfully answers.
“Hey, Nick,” I greet, smiling at the sound of his voice. “Congratulations on the game tonight. Did you guys stomp Crawville?”
“21-0,” he says with a chuckle. “They put up a good fight, though. So, you gonna party with me tonight?”
“That’s kind
a why I called,” I admit. “I hate to ask you this, but do you think you could give me a ride? If you’re not—”
“Sure,” Nick agrees instantly. “In fact, I’m already on your side of town. Are you ready right now? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“That would be perfect,” I say, relieved. “Thanks so much, Nick.”
“My pleasure. See you soon.”
Well, that was easy. I’ve only met a few of Johnny’s friends, and Nick is one of the ones I really like. It’s hard not to like him, with his easy, laid-back personality and little boy enthusiasm. Nick is in Johnny’s close circle of friends, and one of the only ones he trusts with me.
When I said Johnny was the jealous type, I wasn’t kidding. It’s ridiculous, because most of his friends
are hot popular guys who wouldn’t look twice at me. I hate to admit it, but it’s kind of nice that he thinks I’m that irresistible. I’m really not.
I dated
Michael Shaver in sophomore year. He always walked a couple of steps ahead of me, and accidentally slammed quite a few doors in my face because he forgot I was behind him. He also left me behind at the movies once because he thought he came alone.
Clearly, I am a genius at picking boyfriends. In my defense, have you seen what there is to choose from
? The sea is big, but the fish are scraggly, immature, and obsessed with video games.
I’m waiting on the front steps when Nick’s big black Range Rover pulls in.
The Leclare Academy for Rich Kids. That’s the unofficial name. Yet another reason I know I won’t fit in there.
When I whine to Johnny about it, he just shrugs and points out that he’s not rich either—Dean’s dad is. His father is just a construction worker, and a drunk. He always sounds slightly bitter when he says this, and I guess I don’t blame him.
Nick Adler climbs out before I can open the passenger door of his car. He picks me up and envelopes me in a big bear hug. I love his hugs—they are just so warm and comforting
, with just the right amount of squeezing. He could make a fortune as a professional hugger. Companies should hire him to stand outside, and wait for the employees who have just been given the shaft. I’m not saying Nick’s hugs would put an end to workplace violence—but it could.
When he puts me back down, I study him standing in the yellow beam of his headlights. He looks good, as always, dressed casually in
a beat up gray tee shirt and long board shorts. It could be fifty degrees out, and Nick would look like he’s ready for a day at the beach. I love his sun-kissed surfer boy looks: the messy brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and lanky, sinewy-muscled build. There’s not an ounce of fat on him, but his wide innocent gaze give the impression of a mellow softness.
“Hello, beautiful.” Nick salutes me with a wink. “Ready to do some shots with me tonight?”
“Yeah, right.” I say sarcastically. He knows I don’t really drink. I just don’t care for the taste of alcohol.
I smile my thanks when he opens the door for me. I crawl in and breathe in the rich scent o
f leather and more faintly, Nick’s spicy cologne. I reach up to swat the wooden Hawaiian warrior helmet dangling from his rearview mirror. The brightly colored feathers sprouting from the top ruffle slightly as it sways back and forth. “This is cool,” I say, studying it in the weak light.