The Boy Across The Street, page 4
Branden passes me a note in class now, probably because my smile across the aisle to him had been weak. And forced. ‘You aren’t jealous, are you? Of me and Sabrina? We are just partners in a lot of classes, since we are apparently on the same level academically. But YOU are who I want to be on level with romantically.’
I stare at his note. Nice words. I suppose I should feel assured. I really wish I did, so I could get rid of the knots in my stomach. Admittedly, they ease a little. But I don’t like that they were there at all. I’m not happy feeling this way—insecure. I’m not sure what to do about it though. Ignore it and face the fact I may never have that special ‘loved’ feeling I had with Willis? Or squash down my crushy feelings for Branden before he breaks my heart—since I’m getting the distinct feeling giving him my heart will end that way: with my heart broken. The thought makes me just stare at Branden’s words. Because what can I say? ‘I know what I saw—and I didn’t like it’? That’s really confrontational, and didn’t he just say it didn’t mean anything? It would basically be calling him a liar. Do I really believe that?—that he’s lying to me?
When I don’t reply to the note, Branden writes me another. ‘I’m going to take your non-response as an affirmative—that you are jealous. So, let me ease your mind, okay? I am crazy about you. I want you to be my girlfriend, and go to prom with me and every other dance and party with me as well. YOU are who I want to be with. Only you.’
I read his note and an enormous smile spreads on my face. ‘I accept. I will go to prom with you.’
Immediately after I text my message to him, Branden texts me back: ‘How about being my girlfriend? Do you ‘accept’ that too?’
I nod, texting back with a big smile, ‘I do.’
I guess some people would say it’s lame to agree to these things—or be asked—via text. But the thing is, sometimes matters of the heart are easier to convey through a thought-out text than to say aloud on the spot when you need to think it through. Plus, you can re-read the intoxication-inducing stuff to make sure you actually understand what you were just asked and analyze if you are reading too much into it. And decide: Yes, I have read the words correctly, and I agree to commit to the proposed proposal. In fact, I’m thrilled to do so.
I mean, he said I’m ‘the one.’ Isn’t that what I was craving to be? And I guess I just need to take his word for it. Right? I guess the problem is, I’m just used to Willis. Everything was always so easy and comfortable with him. But Willis is gone. And I have to move on. And, well, Braden is here. And he is cute and asked me to prom.
And said I’m The One.
**
When I get to Biology class, I quickly walk past my desk and slide into the seat next to this girl, Vivian. She has the hots for Dmitri (well, so do ten-thousand million other girls, but Vivian hates Lola … and she’s rich) so I tell Vivian, “Hey, I’m partners with Dmitri, but we aren’t working out.”
Vivian raises an eyebrow. “Really? You guys have been seeming pretty cozy—and he is the smartest kid in the class.”
“Right, but.… Okay, I need the cash.”
Vivian’s eyebrows go up again. Even further. “So, let me get this straight—you want to sell me your spot as his partner?”
I nod.
“Sold,” she says and hands me a wad of cash. Way more than I had dreamed of asking for. “Have fun working with the nose-picker,” she says and skips over to my old seat.
Awkwardly, I give Milton a sideways peek. He got the nick-name ‘nose-picker’ way back in the fourth grade. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t do that anymore. “Hi,” I tell him when I see he’s noticed my peek.
“Hi,” he says with a rather amused smile, then he leans in mock confidential-like and says, “I don’t pick my nose anymore, by the way.”
“Glad to hear it,” I tell him.
He grins, “What do you care? With all that money she gave you, you could buy a—”
I don’t hear the witty thing my new lab partner goes on to say because Dmitri has just entered the classroom and my heart and attention has zeroed in on him, as it always does these days, which is annoying, and why I am now lab-partners with a sweet nose-picker, rather than a kiss (and attention) stealer. Also, I’m now rich.
Dmitri gives Vivian a perplexed look as he slides into his seat next to her, then he gives me a pointed curious look. I quickly look away.
The thing is: I DON’T WANT TO HAVE A CRUSH ON DMITRI.
I plan to have a nice, low-key crush on my new boyfriend, Branden. Lick my wounds from missing the love of my life, and move on. Dmitri and his kiss has been a demented detour from that and I need it to end. And face it: it couldn’t happen with him (Dmitri) being my lab partner and his sexy lips taunting me with their now known master skills. Also, okay, it hurts that he has gone back to not looking at me. Jerk.
I get a text from Dmitri: ‘You SOLD me to Vivian??’
Me: ‘Got more than I expected for you. Turns out you’re a gold mine.’
Dmitri: ‘Couldn’t take being near me, knowing you could never kiss me again, right?’
Me: ‘More like I needed gas money.’ Then I add, ‘And I don’t like the smell of your non-useful deodorant.’
Complete lies. Well, the deodorant part. The needing gas-money is sadly true though. Too bad I don’t have him as a partner in more of my classes. If I did, I could be set financially for the rest of the school year. But as it is, I need a new job. The shoe store I worked at for the past year- and-a-half went out of business. (I HATE change!) First my beloved job ended, then my beloved boyfriend moved, then I was kissed by my enemy. Change—it’s the worst.
CHAPTER 7
Did I say change is bad? I guess it’s not all that awful. It has been pretty spectacular being Branden’s girlfriend. I mean, it has only been two weeks, but I have liked it. Immensely. The dude is a good kisser. Okay, not as good as Dmitri, but who is? Nobody, I’m afraid. (Grumble.)
Right now I’m carrying an armload of overdue books, and wouldn’t you know, due to my fantastic luck, I accidentally run into said Kiss-Boss (Dmitri), he gives me a playful nudge. “Dreaming about my kiss?” he asks, helping me pick up my books, since when I said ‘ran into him’ I meant it literally. Smashed right into his (magnificent) chest.
I clench my teeth. “No, I wasn’t, of course, but I really wish you hadn’t done it.”
Dmitri’s grin is playful, “Because it was so good you can’t be satisfied with a wad like Branden?”
I glare at him like you wish, and also like you’re an idiot. “No, because it has given me nightmares, and now I’m terrified you will do it again.”
“I won’t.”
My heart shrivels. I frown, as though it had been the worst. “But why did you?”
“You were ranting to me about passive-aggressive flirting.”
“So, you passively-aggressively flirted with me?”
He shrugs. “Hilarious, right?”
“So not. Like I said—the nightmares.”
He grins. “You mean dreams.”
Yeah, I do. But I’m shocked when he runs a hand over his face and says, “Yeah, I’m having them too.”
Then he walks away.
What the—??
CHAPTER 8
Just to keep this in perspective—the I-hate-Dmitri-thing—let me tell you about a horrible party experience I had last year. I was at the said party with my cousin, Lilly, who needed me to go to it with her for moral support as she was chasing after a jock. Well, she got the jock at the party, and so I was stuck there—stranded while she made-out with said jock. So, I somehow got roped into this game called “confession” or something like that where the person next to you whispers a question to you and then you have to tell your one-word answer aloud, for the whole group to hear. But they don’t know what the question was—unless the coin-flip that comes after your confession lands on heads.
Well, the game was fun—at first. But when it was Dmitri’s turn, his answer was “Piper.” Which sent trembles through me. What the—?? The boy hadn’t talked to me in years, yet I was his “confession”?? I held my breath as the coin was tossed, not sure if I wanted it to be heads or tails. I mean, I wanted to know what he was “confessing” about, of course. But due to my horrible experiences with him for the past few years, I was pretty sure I didn’t want it to be “confessed” in front of a group of stuck-up kids from school. It landed on heads. Dmitri squeezed his eyes shut. Then he squeezed them even tighter as the girl next to him announced what her whispered question to him had been, “Who here has an annoying nose?”
What?! I have an annoying nose?
All the girls came to my defense, protesting I do not have an annoying nose. “She has a cute nose,” they all said. The boys too.
Dmitri just stared down at his phone, like he was going to ‘not comment’ and answer texts instead.
Okay, that nose-scenario was bad enough, but I was quite confident in my nose. My boyfriend kissed it often telling me how adorable it is, so Dmitri could bite me.
But then, when it was Dmitri’s turn again—again his answer was “Piper.” This time when the coin landed on heads, Dmitri’s whisperer announced her question had been, “Who here has an annoying laugh.”
“Okay, I get it, I annoy Dmitri,” I grumbled and rose to my feet.
“Don’t let him make you leave,” everyone else—except Lola—urged. “The rest of us don’t find you annoying. Dmitri is annoying,” they teased him.
But it wasn’t true. They were his friends. Also, brutal fact: no one is annoyed with Dmitri ever, but me. (Well, and maybe Lola.) (Probably Lola.) But that’s the thing: Dmitri is a nice guy. To everyone but me.
So, I stormed out of the party and headed for home. Never mind that it was pouring rain, and that I wasn’t quite sure how to get home. I mean, I had a vague idea where I was at, somewhat, possibly … but I wasn’t quite sure.
Still in any case, I was not staying at that party. Lilly was set—got her jock. And I’d had enough of Dmitri’s crap. But as I was stomping home (well, anyway, hoped that’s the direction I was stomping) Dmitri pulled up beside me in his fancy car that Lola gave him for his birthday. (Yeah, she’s that rich.)
“Get in,” Dmitri told me, opening his window.
“Not a chance,” I told him.
“Piper, you’re soaked,” he informed me impatiently.
“And yet I’m way more comfortable than I would be next to you,” I muttered.
“Okay, then how about you are going in the wrong direction?”
I froze. Gritting my teeth, I did a mental face-palm. And yelled swear words in my mind. Then I whipped around in the other direction and continued my stomping without a word.
“Just get in, Piper,” Dmitri said as he turned his car around. “Don’t worry, it won’t mean I think you forgive me. And you can soak the inside of my car—won’t that be fun?”
I sighed and finally uncrossed my arms as I reached for the door handle. But as I did it, I saw Dmitri’s eyes land on my soaked white top and his lips parted slightly. I glanced down, following his gaze. Great. My drenched white top had become completely see-though, like I was a contestant in a wet-t-shirt contest. Dmitri’s eyebrows drew together. He squeezed his eyes shut, and scrubbed a hand over his face, his breathing a tiny bit ragged … and then he zoomed away! He left me standing there in the pouring rain, feeling like the world’s biggest chump. “Yep, super fun,” I muttered.
**
Only a few minutes later, my boyfriend, Wonderful-Willis, had showed up in his sweet little junker car and took me into his arms, getting completely soaked by me—and my tears. (Yeah, I had cried a little.) (Dmitri had hurt me—once again.)
“Why didn’t you call me to come get you?” Willis asked.
“You warned me not to go to the party,” I told him, full of shame. Well, not “full” of it, but I felt a little bit of it.
Willis sighed. “Yeah, well, I know Lilly. And you know her too. She begs you for favors, and then when you help her, she leaves you in the dust—stranded. All the time.”
I tilted my head at him. “How did you know to come and get me?”
Willis snorted, “Dmitri texted me, if I wanted to pick up my drenched girlfriend I could find her on Bickford Street. He also sent me a picture of a cute soaked puppy-dog, with the caption, ‘She looks just like that.’” Willis smiled at me playfully with a tiny laugh, “Want to see?”
He showed me his phone, and there was the cutest puppy dog in the world, with its huge eyes looking all pathetic and pleading to be picked up and hugged.
It made my cheeks burn. (The dude said my nose was annoying!) I huffed, “He compared me to a dog.”
“But a cute one,” Willis said with a soft laugh, showing me the picture again. “Cutest one in the world,” he murmured softly in a husky voice as he kissed me softly. Seductively. Making me forget about the rest of the world. Even Dmitri. (Stupid, Dmitri.)
CHAPTER 9
**PRESENT DAY**
**PRESENT DAY**
Okay, recap: that party—with the cruel Dmitri prank—happened last year. Back when I had a wonderful boyfriend who took me into his arms and helped soothe away the ache in my heart Dmitri had caused me yet again.
Though I don’t feel Branden could soothe away any aches Dmitri causes my heart the way Willis could, at least Branden is fun and cute. And wants to be my boyfriend.
So why (WHY!) can’t I stop thinking about Dmitri’s kiss?
Why?
CHAPTER 10
Dmitri’s (disturbingly hot) kiss was last week. A whole week ago. I don’t want to be thinking about it now. Not while I’m getting a facial and manicure and fake tan and a … bikini wax. (Yikes!)
Yes, I’m getting ready for a beauty contest. Literally. Don’t judge. The Teen-Queen Beauty Pageant is offering a huge scholarship. Believe me, I need a huge scholarship. Money for college doesn’t grow on trees … as my mom keeps reminding me.
My friend, Summer Baker, is chattering excitedly as she does my nails and hair for the contest. She goes to cosmetology school, and will soon be a beauty professional, but right now she is a cheerleader at my high school. (The only nice one that I know of.) She has dated most of the football team—every hot guy on it—but her heart secretly belongs to a hockey player, Mason Archer. Mason is Griffin Piper’s best friend, and Griffin Piper is my best friend Ally’s boyfriend. (Notice Griffin’s last name is my first name. No connection—other than we both love Ally—but I just thought I would mention it since everyone else does.) Griffin is a legend at our school. He is captain of the hockey team, and known as ‘The Grief-Master’—well, to the other team. To us girls that are friends with Ally he is known as ‘The Perfect Boyfriend.’ He is tough as can be, but he turns into a sweet little cuddly puppy for Ally. It’s adorable.
But anyway, I’m not supposed to know Summer loves Mason. Summer is ultra-cool and confident, but if you mention Mason around her, she kind of loses her cool. Or more like gets too cool (like frozen). Really, it’s just a wall she puts up to guard her heart, since she is wary about her feelings for Mason—since he was her stepbrother (but only for a few months!) Anyway, it leaves her red if you mention Mason. But sometimes you have to mention Mason if you are talking about Griffin, because they are best friends. And of course a lot of times you have to mention Griffin if you are talking about Ally, because they are a couple. And of course I have to mention Ally a lot, because she is my best friend.
So, I keep biting my lip a lot as I talk with Summer—since I saw Skanky Sabrina with Mason when I went with Ally and Griffin to the after-party of the school play I was in. Sabrina isn’t exactly Summer’s rival, not exactly, but they are on the cheerleading squad together—and Sabrina was hanging on Mason like he was a coatrack. (A very nice looking one.) (One that Sabrina would like to take home and plant in her room.)
“Branden went with you to the after-party, right?” Summer asks.
I nod.
“And was Sabrina there?” she asks, trying to sound casual, yet she is searching my eyes. But I know she isn’t doing it worrying about Mason. She is doing it as a concerned friend, probably wondering if Branden blatantly flirted with Sabrina at the party, while I was there to witness it—their flirting.
I bite my lip. “No, Sabrina was with a guy,” I tell her cautiously. “—a guy bigger than Branden.”
Summer grimaces slightly, but doesn’t say anything, since she knows Branden is now my “boyfriend” and I have been assured by Branden that Sabrina and him are “just friends.” Summer bites her lip, not saying anything more about it, since she had warned me, “Watch out for Sabrina. She enjoys a challenge—meaning: other girl’s boyfriends.”
“Ally and Griffin came to the party with me too—and Stormy,” I gush out quickly, just because I don’t know how to handle the I-know-you-love-Mason-but-I-know-you-don’t-want-me/anyone-to-know—Especially-not-Mason. It’s very awkward for me, since they both totally love each other, yet neither will admit it. It’s frustrating! So, I ramble on, “Stormy was so good in the play. Did you see it?”
Summer sighs. “Yeah, but I went with that jerk, John Dove. He’s nice to look at, but he is blah, blah, blah.”
She went on to list a bunch of stuff that really, truly, in her heart, just equaled: Not Mason. But yes, John is nice to look at, but he knows it; and yeah, he’s a jerk. Well, I’ve heard. Not just from Summer—Mason said so too. (The night of the play, actually—as he narrowed his eyes when he saw John with Summer. It made Mason grunt, then allow Sabrina to latch on to him like the coatrack for the party—though he ditched her the next day.) (Because she’s not Summer.) (Or nice.)
