Crash Test Love (6 page)

Authors: Ted Michael

BOOK: Crash Test Love

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—and if other people have experienced heartbreak, surely mine can’t be that bad.

When you’ve been dumped as many times as I have, the initial sting tends to dissipate quickly. I used to cry for weeks and weeks over boys

—over not being wanted anymore, over what we could have been but never had the chance to be. But that slowly faded, until a relationship would end and I’d move forward, only to be smacked with grief when I least expected it, the kind of pain that at acks you from behind and doesn’t let go.

This makes me sound like some kind of relationship whore. I’m not—not real y. I’ve only had ve real boyfriends.

(Ex-) Boyfriend #1: Johnny Rosenfeld

Year we dated: Eighth grade

Looks: Sort of cute; not pimply

Really into: The Dave Matthews Band

First thing he ever said to me: “You’re so funny.”

Last thing he ever said to me: “You cry a lot.”

(Ex-) Boyfriend #2: Andrew Carrington

Year we dated: Ninth grade

Looks: Sexxxy

Really into: Himself

First thing he ever said to me: “You’re, like, really hot.”

Last thing he ever said to me: “Can you get your own ride home?”

(Ex-) Boyfriend #3: Dan Girwager

Year we dated: Tenth grade

Looks: Hot nerd

Really into: Getting good grades

First thing he ever said to me: “You like F. Scott Fitzgerald too?”

Last thing he ever said to me: “You’re just really …

di erent than I am. And not in a good way.”

(Ex-) Boyfriend #4: Michael Brown

Year we dated: Tenth grade (second half)

Looks: B-list movie star–ish

Really into: His band

First thing he ever said to me: “I’ve never met anyone like you, Garrett.”

Last thing he ever said to me: “Please stop calling my house.”

(Ex-) Boyfriend #5: Ben Harrison

Year we dated: Eleventh grade plus the summer

Looks: Boy next door

Really into: Basketball

First thing he ever said to me: “Is anyone sitting here?”

Last thing he ever said to me: ?

I don’t know the last thing Ben wil ever say to me. I think about how many hours I’ve spent crying over him. I can’t go through that again with another guy. Then I think about Henry lying to his friends about us hooking up, and what Mark did to me years ago. I realize the J Squad is right: high school guys real y are boys. How could Henry start that rumor with no regard for my feelings? And even if he didn’t start it—if Nigel or Duke did—he should have been mature enough to reveal the truth. Instead, he’d rather let people think I’m another tal y on his scoreboard.

Wel , screw that. The J Squad may be a lit le over the top, but they de nitely have the right idea. Someone like Henry does need to know what it feels like to be hurt. And if anyone’s an expert on get ing dumped, it’s me—why shouldn’t I be the one to teach him a lesson?

Seducing Henry wil be a chal enge, sure, but I can do it. There’s no way I’l develop real feelings for a guy I know is a player from the start.

Even though it wil seem to the average East Shore outsider like we’re dating, it’l al be a game—a game in which I make the rules. If my heart isn’t on the line, there’s no way I can possibly get hurt. And if I can’t get hurt, what’s there to lose? Plus, having the J Squad in my life would certainly help me avoid fal ing for anyone else. Even my mother doesn’t think I can go without a (real) boyfriend. It’s time, I decide, to prove her wrong. To prove them al wrong. To make boys like Henry and Ben and Mark and [insert practical y every high school guy in existence] realize what it feels like to be dumped, to be crushed, to be broken.

And to prove to myself that I can be strong, and happy, without being in a relationship.

I put down my guitar, pick up my cel , and punch in some numbers I’ve already memorized. “London? It’s Garret Lennox. Count me in.”

HENRY

INT.—MY CAR, SATURDAY NIGHT

Duke, Nigel, and me pul into the parking lot of a Hilton hotel. A girl named Rosie Black is having her Sweet Sixteen tonight. Duke heard about the party from his friend Brian, who goes to high school with Rosie in Great Neck and hooked up with her once, but it ended badly. (Somehow Brian woke up in her driveway wearing lipstick, gym shorts, and a shirt that read Who’s Your Daddy?) I park and we get out of the car.

Everyone has the story down, right?

DUKE

Yes, Mom.

I’m not your mother.

DUKE

That’s what she said. You know, when I was doing her.

NIGEL

I hate those jokes. I really do.

We begin our trek into the Hilton. We don’t have an invitation, but that’s never stopped us before. We’re wearing suits and we’re young—it’s surprisingly easy.

Tonight, Duke and I are pretending to be fraternal conjoined twins who were only recently separated. (This is not actual y possible.) Nigel wil be a foreign exchange student from Canada who is staying with us. (We chose Canada because, wel , it’s so ridiculous!) We enter the hotel and immediately turn left; we’ve been here before. It’s a pret y hoppin’ venue for a Sweet Sixteen because there’s a themed fties diner on the bot om oor. It looks like a (slightly) classier Johnny Rockets. I know we’re in the right place because I hear music.

The room is packed—there are at least two hundred people here, which means we’l go basical y unnoticed. On rst glance, there are tons of hot girls. Score.

Duke gets mixed up in the crowd within seconds. Most of the kids here are from Great Neck, which means they’re very rich and/or Persian.

NIGEL

I’m thirsty. Grab me a Coke?

Sure. (I locate an empty booth with a balloon centerpiece and shove him inside.) Be right back.

I walk up to the bar and ask for a Coke and a gin and tonic. The bartender gives me the Coke (in an actual glass bot le) but not the G + T. Ah, wel . Can’t blame a guy for trying.

I sit down next to Nigel and hand him the bot le. He looks at it quizzical y.

NIGEL

This feels so … elegant.

Only the best for you, man. Only the best.

I turn my at ention to the dance oor. Most of the girls are wearing T-shirts that say Melissa’s Sweet 16 over their dresses, which I think is a travesty, and white socks over their tights instead of shoes. I don’t fault them for that. I can’t imagine get ing my groove on in a pair of high heels.

That shit must hurt.

I bop my head along to the music and feel happy. I’d like to be dancing, sure, but I don’t mind just being surrounded by a bunch of random people who don’t expect anything from me. I think for a moment about Garret , because we met at a party not al that di erent from this one, but only for a moment. I’m here to have fun. And I can certainly have fun without Garret .

My eyes move to a real y pret y girl who’s sit ing with a bunch of other, less pret y girls at one of the booths diagonal to mine; she has long red hair and is wearing a dress with no straps and her boobs look sweet. I glance over at Nigel, who is touching the Coke bot le lightly with his index nger.

Can I leave you alone for a second?

NIGEL

Yeah, no worries. Do yo thang.

I won’t be long. And you probably shouldn’t say ‘yo’ and ‘thang’ in the same sentence.

NIGEL

Point taken.

I nd a spot where it’s a lit le less noisy. I look back at the girl; she’s already left her table and is walking in my direction. One for Arlington.

Hey.

HER

Hey. Do I know you?

Do you want to?

HER

(laughing)

Yes?

That’s a good start. I’m Angel.

HER

That’s an … interesting name. Like the guy from Bu y?

No.

HER

From the musical Rent?

No.

HER

Where do you go to school? Great Neck South?

I’m homeschooled.

HER

Yeah? For any particular reason?

My brother and I were conjoined twins, but, uh, now we’re not.

HER

That’s not … really a reason.

It’s not?

HER

How do you know Melissa?

Family friends.

HER

(leaning in close)

I’m her cousin. Older cousin. I’m a junior at Penn State. I have the key to one of the hotel rooms upstairs. (She cocks her head.) Care to join me?

No girl has ever been so frank with me before. I check in on Nigel, who’s stil fascinated by the Coke bot le. He’l be ne. Duke is nowhere to be seen.

Lead the way.

As soon as we close the door to her room, I yank o my suit jacket, pul o my tie, and drop my pants.

HER

Whoa, there, cowboy. Slow down.

Is something wrong?

HER

We just met.

I thought you invited me up here to … you know.

She slips her shoes o and waltzes over to the minibar.

HER

I invited you up here to get to know you better. It was so loud down there. (She pauses.) Want a drink?

I’m kind of embarrassed. I don’t want to make the scene more awkward than it already is, so I but on my pants, toss my suit jacket and tie on the bed, and nod my head.

HER (cont.)

There aren’t any mixers, so we’ll just have to go for it.

She grabs two tiny bot les and motions to a sliding glass door that leads to a balcony. We go outside; it’s dark, and there’s not much of a view, but the air is light and cool. I sit down on one of the chairs.

HER

So what’s your real name?

Huh?

HER

You don’t look like an Angel.

Oh. Um, well … it’s Henry.

HER

I’m Lila.

She passes me one of the bot les, but I have to drive later, so I refuse. She shrugs and drinks it herself, grimacing as it goes down. We both laugh.

Her laugh is nice—not like Garret ’s, which is heartier, and more musical—but nice nonetheless.

LILA

How do you really know my cousin?

Family friends. I told you.

LILA

Uh-huh, sure. (She looks at me.) You’re cute. Young, but cute.

I’m not that young.

LILA

How old are you?

Eighteen. Well, seventeen. But I’ll be eighteen soon.

LILA

How soon?

A coupla months.

LILA

Trust me, kid. You’re young.

You’re what, twenty? Not exactly ancient.

LILA

I don’t mean young year-wise. Just life-wise. (She wipes a few strands of hair away from her eyes.) College changes you. The whole world opens up. You’ll see.

I can’t wait to go. I want to get the hell out of here.

LILA

Long Island?

I nod.

LILA (cont.)

It’s not that bad. But I hear you. Don’t rush your senior year away, though. That’s time you’ll never get back.

We’re pret y high up. In the distance I can see cars driving along the highway. Below us is an outside restaurant where people are having dinner.

I don’t have much else to say, real y. Lila seems nice, but there’s no real spark. I think about some of the girls I’ve hooked up with recently.

Everything happens so quickly it’s hard to say if there’s ever a real connection. I’m not sure I would know a spark if it set me on re. Then I think about Garret and I know that’s not true. I realized the moment I saw her there was a spark. That she sparkled.

It’s get ing kind of chil y. I notice Lila shiver and move my chair closer. I touch her shoulder. She has goose bumps.

Here.

I run my ngers up and down her arms, lightly.

LILA

That feels good. It tingles.

I lean forward and kiss her shoulder. Then her neck. She turns her head and pecks me on the lips.

LILA (cont.)

You’re sweet, Henry. You’re gonna make someone a great boyfriend someday.

I want to laugh. If only she knew how messed up I am, she’d never say anything like that. Me? A great boyfriend? I don’t think so.

You wanna head back to the party?

LILA

That’s probably a good idea. I’m sure my parents are looking for me, wanting to take pictures or something.

She goes back into the room. I’m about to slide the balcony door shut when I stop and take a second to stare into the night and just breathe. I feel as though I have as many questions as there are stars.

We’re in my car, driving home. It’s almost one in the morning. I don’t have a curfew, but Nigel does. He’s in the backseat, sleeping, stil holding on to the (now empty) Coke bot le.

DUKE

So, did you have fun? I saw you go upstairs with that cute redhead.

You did?

DUKE

(elbowing me)

Get any?

Uh, you could say that.

DUKE

Nice, dude. Nice. One of these days, you’ve gotta tell me your secret.