The Boy Across The Street, page 12
… or was it just wishful thinking?
Ugh!
It’s not fair that he’s now single and available and no longer dating my arch-enemy. Why now? When I’m stuck with memories of his kiss?—even while I’m kissing wonderful Foster. It’s not fair!!
Dmitri is totally putting a wrench in my love-life. I mean, not only is he making it hard to see Foster (since he won’t let me into his house—grumble!) now every time I think about prom, I’m going to think about him—hot dumb Dmitri. Him showing up at my doorstep all hot and holding a puppy. Foster has no idea what he has done.
CHAPTER 27
Jillian Fox (Teen-Queen producer lady) had me come into her office before school this morning. I’m not one to request early mornings to meet, ever, no way, but Foster and I are going to see Roll tonight, my very favorite band, that he had bought tickets for on our very first date. So, I couldn’t meet with Jillian after school today as she requested. I had a prior commitment, Summer Baker is going to put a pink streak in my hair for the concert. I had a hard time narrowing down the time with Summer since she is a busy cheerleader and fills her calendar with hot boys, as she’s looking to avoid her hot ex-stepbrother (who she secretly pines for—but like I said shhh, it’s a secret, even from me) but so, right after school is the only time Summer could fit me in for my fun pink-streak. So, when Jillian texted me requesting to meet her after school today, to my horror, I had typed back, “How about before school?”
So, here I am now—before school—meeting with Teen-Queen’s producer/marketer/agent (or whatever she is).
I’m both nervous and curious (and tired) as I enter Jillian’s office. As I try to hold back yawns, she chit-chats with me a bit, but I can tell she has something specific on her mind and the chatter is just to chill me out before she drops a bomb on me. Or anyway, gets to why I’m here, meeting with her when I would normally be home in bed. At last, she finally gets to why she called me here. I know it’s coming by the way she folds her hands on her desk in front of her and gives me a ‘let’s talk’ expression. She says, “I know you are now dating Dmitri’s cousin, but I’ve noticed the boy misses a lot of your dates.”
I nod. “He’s trying to become a doctor. It’s a huge obsessive ambition of his.”
“Noble,” she says, sounding dismissive rather than complimentary. She goes on with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “But how do you feel about Dmitri—I mean really feel about him?”
I redden. “We hate each other.”
She gives me a get-real look. “I know you keep saying that. But you and I both know it’s hog-wash.” Before she gives me a chance to protest she raises a hand, totally doing it ‘keep-your-silly-protests-to-yourself’ style. She leans over her desk towards me. “Piper, I was there when you met Dmitri’s cousin. I had come by their house to inspect the life-size poster-board cut-out of you. Dmitri winced every time you and his cousin flirted with each other.”
My heart slams against my chest. “W-what?!”
Jillian smiles, as though she knows she’s shocked me and she’s tickled about it.
I stammer out, “H-he probably only winced about it because he knew that if Foster and I ended up getting together, he’d have to see even more of me than he already has to at the Teen-Queen functions. Believe me, he hates me—or anyway, I totally annoy him. He won’t even let me into his house.”
“What?” Jillian asks curiously.
I nod adamantly, knowing my point is proven. “It’s true. I can’t go over to Dmitri’s to see Foster. It’s like a rule. It’s never been specifically said—not exactly—but it’s silently enforced. Foster can only come over to my house—which he’s not able to do very often because of his intense schoolwork load—but still, I can’t go over to Dmitri’s. It’s been made pretty clear.”
The other day I had kind of called Dmitri out on it. This is how it went: Even though I knew I shouldn’t do it, when Foster texted, apologizing that he needed to cancel our last date, I padded over to their house with home-baked cookies. When Dmitri answered the door, I tore into him without waiting for his greeting—since it never came. He just looked at me like, like—well, I’m not sure what like. Sort of like maybe he felt sorry for me, but also like I shouldn’t have come over. I guess it was because Foster cancelled our date and then I pathetically came over anyway—uninvited. And unwanted. Whatever, he didn’t invite me in. Or greet me. So, I spewed out my frustration on him, “Look, I get you don’t want me to go into your house, Dmitri. I get it. But like it or not, my boyfriend is in there, and so is my prom-puppy.”
“Aren’t they the same person?” Dmitri asked, taking the cookies from me. Then instead of telling Foster I was there—uninvited—he handed me Prom-Puppy’s leash, and then sent the sweet little dog himself out to me super quick, like he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
… and then he shut the door. In my face.
Jillian thinks over this information. “Foster can’t be disturbed?”
I shrug. “Not while he’s doing doctor stuff—apparently.”
“Well,” she sighs. Then she seems to dismiss it, the whole conversation. Instead of continuing with it, she changes the entire subject. She hands me a thumb-drive telling me she’d had Dmitri film the Teen-Queen contest back when she first met Dmitri through one of the contestants (Lola). Jillian says as though our meeting is through, or maybe as though we are just getting to what she really called me into her office for, she commands, “Look this footage over, will you? Then give me your thoughts.”
She says it dismissively. As though I’m being shooed away.
“Um, I have to go to school now though,” I tell her. “I won’t be able to look at it until later.”
“It’s not urgent,” she says with a shrug. “… just mandatory.”
She says that last part with a mischievous glint in her eyes and edge to her voice.
“Oh-kay, well bye,” I tell her nervously.
The lady always seems to have some strange plot up her sleeve. I don’t like it. Or get it.
It’s too early in the morning for this junk.
***
During study-hall, rather going over my notes for history class, I decide to watch the Teen-Queen contest footage instead, since Jillian had been so weird and mischievous about it. But I forgot the thumb-drive she gave me this morning in my coat pocket, which, at this moment, is being worn by Stormy, who likes to wear my jacket when she wants to be “invisible” (her ex-boyfriend is giving her huge troubles) (he’s a total wad) Stormy always puts my jacket’s hood over her head and tightens the opening until it covers everything but her eyes, it’s her version of “ghost-girl.”
So, instead of Jillian’s footage of the contest, I watch the footage of it that I already possessed, since it is conveniently already on my laptop, which is right here in front of me. I slide in my earbuds and glare at the screen, since I know what is coming. As I re-watch the contest, I guess I get why Jillian wanted me to watch it again. The way Dmitri stood in front of me, shielding me from a gun—it is pretty heroic. Ugh! If she wanted me to feel mushy towards Dmitri, it worked. Geez, I really didn’t need this. Now I’m thinking about Dmitri even more.
I thump my head on my desk. Somebody shoot me.
CHAPTER 28
As I shut my locker, I see Dmitri watching me from across the hallway in the distance. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this, but it’s the first time that he is single—and the first time I’m confused/brave enough to call him out on it. I trudge through the crowded hallway to him. Ha! I see him wince when he realizes he is my target destination. I do like to make him squirm.
Dmitri rubs the back of his neck and looks at me quizzically when I stand before him, like he hadn’t been staring at me. Like I have no business standing here.
“You looked like you wanted to tell me something when you brought over that puppy,” I tell him, sort of challenging-like.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re mistaken.”
My heart falls a little. Well, a lot. But staring into his dark eyes, I’m suddenly not convinced. With the memory of what Jillian told me this morning looming in my mind, I call him out, “I catch you looking at me sometimes. Longing-like.”
He winces again, and seems to swear under his breath. He drawing out a breath, he runs a hand over his face as he stares into my eyes. “What do you want?”
He asks it as though he’s wary.
“I want to know what’s going on with you.”
He juts his chin. “It seems like you know.”
My heart explodes. Yet I try to act irate rather than blown-away. “What? Now that your cousin likes me, you’re suddenly interested in me?”
Dmitri draws out a long breath, ducking his head slightly. Almost like it’s true. (Holy smokes!!!) After a long moment, he says in a low voice, “I’m not going to fight him for your heart. And your affection.”
Why not?
Fight for me! my heart screams at the top of its lungs.
Dmitri looks at me searchingly a long breathless moment, making me breathless, then he goes on, since my heart may have screamed, but my mouth stayed shut. Well, okay, it fell open (probably); but no words came out of it. He says softly, “Foster is a good guy, and you make him happy. But he’s not being fair to you. There’s something you should know about him.”
My heart stops. I brace myself. Well, try. “What?” I whisper.
Dmitri winces, then shakes his head slightly. “It’s not my place to tell you … and I promised him I wouldn’t.”
“He killed someone?”
Dmitri doesn’t even roll his eyes. “Nothing evil. Nothing like that. It might make you cherish him even more than you already do. But … he needs to tell you.”
“Dmitri, I …” He walks away before I can demand him to explain. He silently shook his head, then yeah, just walked away. I watch him go with my heart in my throat and my stomach in knots.
What just happened? Way too many confusing, conflicting emotions are scrambling through my head and heart crashing into each other, and totally conflicting with each other. Foster is keeping a secret from me? Dmitri has FEELINGS for me? What is Foster’s secret? Does it have to do with his college courses? Why they are so important to him that he often misses our dates because of them? Dmitri has FEELING for me?? That thought keeps popping up to the front of my brain and is absolutely thrilling, and has goosebumps skittering through me, but at the same time, the fact that Foster has a serious secret from me—one that has Dmitri frowning and wincing—makes the knots in my stomach tighten and tighten until I’m sick with worry, yet all the while thoughts of Dmitri have me ready to dance. The thought sings through me, Dmitri has feelings for me? DMITRI HAS FEELINGS FOR ME?!!
… but really? Or did I misunderstand that? Was it just wishful thinking? I try to replay our conversation in my overly stimulated brain, but the whole thing has become a blur in my mind due to way too many feelings had whirled and swirled through me as it was happening. Did I misunderstand what Dmitri was actually saying? After all, nothing he said was clear, it was all confusing and mysterious. Was he just talking about not going to “fight” with Foster about—well, not his feelings for me—but his secret that he is keeping from me? Is that it?
Foster’s secret—is that what Dmitri’s not going to fight Foster about? Is that it? Face it: it’s probably it.
Man, suddenly I’m embarrassed (and very disturbed) that I had been so dementedly thrilled thinking Dmitri might really, truly have feelings for me. I guess his recent staring at me hadn’t been longing after all. It had only been him torn about Foster’s secret.
WHAT is Foster’s secret??
CHAPTER 29
After my history test, which I may have bombed, since all I can think about is Foster’s mysterious “secret” … well, and the demented delusion I’d had that Dmitri suddenly likes me. But face it, probably the “wincing” Jillian had seen Dmitri do while Foster and I had flirted with each other that first day we met was just Dmitri thinking Foster should tell me his big mysterious secret. Sulk. But also—question mark. A hundred times, question mark. What is Foster’s big secret? It has my stomach in knots and me failing tests.
Before I can work up the proper way to phrase my delicate/desperate question that basically equals: “What is your big secret? Do you have a wife and children? Are you secretly a doctor already rather than studying to be one and you have to miss so many dates with me because you are saving people’s lives? Or is it that married thing, and your wife is visiting Dmitri’s house, so you have to break our dates or …”
Before I can type the question coolly and (somewhat) calmly, I get a text from Foster. “I’m not going to be able to make it to the Roll concert tonight, Piper. I’m really sorry. Something came up.”
My heart falls to the ground. It feels like literally.
Something like bitterness crashes through me. I mean, a person can only be cancelled on a few hundred times before they start to feel … bitter. Gritting my teeth, I text: “Is it because of your ‘schoolwork?’”
After an exceedingly long moment where I thump my head on my desk, and then crumble up a slip of notebook paper in my angry fist, pretending it is Foster’s pretty face, I get Foster’s reply: “No, it’s not schoolwork. My parents are suddenly going through a divorce. My mom really needs me right now. I’ve moved back in with her. I’m really sorry to have to cancel on you.”
Sympathy and shame crash through me. I quickly type, “No! Don’t worry about that—not at all, Foster. Be there for your mom. That is totally the right thing to do.”
Foster: “I know, but I feel really bad about cancelling on you.”
“Foster, don’t worry about it.”
“I am. I feel awful about it—it was supposed to be our big night.”
“We still have prom—that will be our big night,” I promise vehemently. After all, his parents only live a couple of hours away. No big deal. We can still totally make “us” work.
However, Foster doesn’t relent on the concert. “I talked to Dmitri. It’s all set. He’ll take you to the concert—he really likes Roll.”
Heat shoots through me. “No! Foster, don’t worry about it. I’m so sorry to hear about your parents! I totally get that you need to be there for your mom, don’t worry about the concert.”
“But I am worried about it. I bought the tickets for you because I knew you loved the band. I wanted the tickets to be special, to let you know how special you are to me. I need you to know that. I need you to get to go to that concert.”
I bite my lip. “Okay…. If you really want me to go, I will. But not with Dmitri. I have a friend that is really down right now. My friend Stormy’s jerky-jock-ex-boyfriend is doing all kinds of horrible things to her to make her sorry she broke up with him. She loves Roll. I’ll take her.”
“… okay, I guess. But Dmitri really loves the band too. He was looking forward to going.”
Trembles slash through me. I write quickly, “No he wasn’t. Besides, this is the truth, he doesn’t like Roll anymore. He used to. Key words: used to. As in, that was the past. He no longer does. Believe me, he only agreed to take me to the concert as a nice gesture towards you. I annoy him. Immensely.”
This stuff is all true, right? I mean, I don’t exactly want to stop Dmitri from getting to see his favorite band, but that night that rich guy invited us to his party to see them, Dmitri had kind of mocked still liking them … didn’t he? Well, I know for a fact he had said they are no longer his favorite band. And they are still mine. And I cannot—no way!—go with Dmitri to see the concert with him. Not after being so dementedly thrilled when I pathetically, delusional-ly just thought he had some sort of lingering “thing” for me. Not when I’m feeling this way towards him. All mushy and nostalgic for him. Seeing the concert with him—no. Not only that, no way. Since it was with him that I first saw Roll live—and it had been my very first concert ever, and Dmitri’s too, and it was our very favorite band, it had been a very special night for us—so no way. I can’t go to the concert with him. That is absolutely not the way to crush my crushy feelings for him. It would do the complete opposite.
Besides, if by some miracle I understood slightly what Dmitri was saying earlier, then Dmitri doesn’t want to fight Foster for me (which, okay, I don’t want them to fight over me. Really.) then Dmitri should really just keep his distance—as the poor guy has been trying to do. I’ll help him out—I’ll see my favorite band, with one of my favorite friends, and not with the guy that stabbed me in the back. Done.
Seems like a no-brainer, right? And yet it fills me with a wisp of longing and despair—since, you know, I had first saw the band with Dmitri.
I quickly shake off the disquieting sadness. Things aren’t sad. Things are good.
…. well, for me.
But not for poor Foster. It’s so sad that his parents are getting a divorce! I wish there was something I could do for him. He seems very tormented and tortured.
… is that the secret he had been keeping from me? That he was being tortured by his parent’s impending divorce? Maybe that’s why he had been living with Dmitri, and why Dmitri’s mom finally let a dog into her house—to cheer up poor loving Foster, whose family was being ripped apart.
Was that what Dmitri was talking about this morning? That Foster was going to move away again?—to live with his mom? The knot that has been twisting in my stomach ever since Dmitri said Foster was being unfair to me eases a little. Come on, it’s only a couple of hours. It’s not really that unfair.
CHAPTER 30
A week before the prom, I’m still trying on prom dresses. It’s not like I don’t have one, I do. But. Well, my boyfriend said he won’t be able to see me again until prom, so shopping is my way to fill that void. And also to keep my mind from dwelling/dreaming about Dmitri’s eyes. Which I catch on me often these days. It always fills me with a scattering of convoluted, very dramatic feelings. Feelings of guilt, since I shouldn’t relish his hungry gaze so much, since I have a boyfriend; and feelings of shame since I shouldn’t relish his hungry gaze so much because the jerk had been a jerk to me for the past four years. So, I shop. Besides, can you really ever have too many prom dresses? I think not. Seriously, not if you’re a Teen-Queen. You have to dress up all the time. Lucky for me, I like that.
