LIAM (2 page)

It’ll always be her.

I park my bike at home and head over to the house next door. Like magnets, my eyes fix on Mandi, the goddess sitting on the porch with her yard-long legs crossed. Those summer short shorts of hers should be illegal.  

I can’t help but ogle at the amazing sister of my best friend, Carl. Mandi is a college junior this year. She’s also five years older than me.

She doesn’t notice me wiping drool from my chin. Phew. The content of some large-ass textbook has her undivided attention. I take a deep long breath and clear my throat. I clear my throat again, this time adding a dry cough. Mandi doesn’t look up.

As usual, she’s always the nerd.

An impossibly hot nerd.

I run my fingers through my hair. Act cool, Liam. Smirk like a sexy rogue. Girls love it when guys smirk. Oh, and tilt your head. No, cock your head. (Fact: I sometimes read romance novels.)

“Hey, Mandi,” I say with a cracking voice. Dammit puberty! Why do you always have to strike at the worst possible moments?

Mandi looks up and chuckles. “Put on a shirt, Shaggy Willie.” She shakes her head at me.

Mandi could call me Peanut-Head or Ding-Dong Brain, or whatever she wants, and I wouldn’t mind.

“You need to cover up those little man pecs of yours, ASAP.” She points at my naked chest.

              She did say the word “man,” so I’ll consider that a win. I normally don’t ride my bike shirtless, but I figured I’d run into Mandi today, and maybe she’d see me in a different light when she sees how much I’ve, well, grown. I’ve started working out this summer and eating better. Two eggs for breakfast, vegetables for snacks. Protein shakes. The occasional bag of chips. Hot dogs, fistfuls of bacon, and triple cheeseburgers.

              Anyway…

I think there are at least two curls of chest hair between my pecs. I have washboard abs—a six-pack in fact. I’m no longer that sniffling, scrawny little boy she met four years ago when her family moved next door.

“I should cover up?” I give her my best Donald Trump face, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and all. “Look at you…” Bad idea… Stop staring at Mandi’s gorgeous face and her big... gulp.

Mandi arches her right eyebrow. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” She frowns.

There’s really nothing wrong with what she’s wearing: a white tank top, jean shorts, and flip-flops.

The real problem here is that my hormones are freaking bonkers.

She loosens her braid, and her long black wavy hair fans over her bare shoulders. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve yearned to press my face against her head, to smell her hair. To touch that silky skin and kiss those lips of hers.

My heart, as always, pounds so hard that I’m afraid it’s going to rip a hole in my chest. Sweat floods my pits. How sexy, Liam Daniels. How sexy… Before I make a fool out of myself, I turn to run home.

“Uh… I have to go, uh, clean my room… Bye!” Watch me run, Mandi, like Usain Bolt.

Then I stumble on some damn rocks on Mandi’s lawn.

My goddess laughs. My ego and something else (down there) start to shrink. God, why can’t I be the college junior and Mandi the high school junior who’s crushing hard on me? When I started high school, I thought this crush of mine would fade, at least a bit. There’s like a freaking sea of cute girls at school, many of them interested in me. (Can’t blame them, I’m a stud.)

But as cute as some of them are, they just can’t hold a candle to my wonderful Mandi Lee.

~*~

…Mandi’s 21
st
Birthday…

I curse at Carl. “What’s taking so long, dingbat?”

“Stop rushing me, man.” Carl grunts.

“Hurry up, she’s coming downstairs.”

Remind me not to assign candle-lighting duty to chubby-fingered Carl again. He fumbles with the matches and, an eternity later, he finally manages to light the candles on the cake we baked for Mandi.

His mom, Mrs. Lee, laughs at us. “Relax, boys. Okay, it’s show time.”

When we hear the front door opening, I walk slowly out of the kitchen. We’ve turned off all the lights in the house so that we can surprise Mandi when she comes in. So far, we’ve done this three years in a row, and we’ve always managed to surprise her.

It doesn’t take much to make Mandi happy. She finds joy in the simplest of things. That’s one reason why I love her so much.

Mandi walks into her house. We move toward her, half hidden in the shadows, so that the candlelit cake appears to be floating toward her. Mandi claps.

“I love you guys,” Mandi says. She comes toward us to blow out the candles. Carl, his mother, and I sing Mandi the happy birthday song in the dark.

“Let’s go eat the cake,” Mrs. Lee says. “We’ll go cut the cake.” She switches the lights back on and walks toward the kitchen with Carl.

Mandi blinks. She puts down a large bouquet of red roses and a teddy bear next to her keys. Those presents must be from some guy who is gaga-in love with her.

The gift I have for her suddenly seems so small and shitty. Mandi would never wear it, so I’ll just toss it into out later.

She hugs each of us, and when she presses her soft body against me, my knees almost buckle.

After having a slice of cake, I make a stupid excuse to leave. Normally, Carl and I would rot the night away playing games in his basement.

As I walk out the door, Mandi stops me, grabbing my wrist. I turn around and she’s a breath away, looking up at me with her beautiful, expressive eyes. I’m still not used to this, being so much taller than Mandi. It makes me believe that one day, I’ll become a man who can protect her.

“Where’s my present this year?” she asks. Too damn cutely.

I gulp.

“Don’t you have enough presents already? You’re too greedy.”

“You’re hiding it, aren’t you?” She smacks my butt pocket. She really should stop doing this to someone with hormones as raging as mine.

“Stop it, Mandi. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Mandi frowns. “Okay… What’s wrong, Shaggy?”

I open my mouth but not a word escapes. I just stare at her, stupidly vulnerable and unshielded against her charms. With a shaky hand, I retrieve the present I had made for her, a polymer clay rose dangling on a silver chain, hidden in an origami box now crumpled from being jammed into the pocket of my jeans.

She takes the box and admires it briefly before taking out the necklace.

“It’s… perfect,” she gushes. “Come on, help me put it on.”

Mandi lifts her wavy hair and spins around. I oblige, painting her skin with my sweaty fingers as I fumble with the lobster clasp, securing the necklace on her neck.

“I’ll wear it forever,” she says, beaming at me. She holds the rose delicately in her manicured fingers, gently caressing its petals.

No you won’t, Mandi. Other guys will give you diamonds and pearls. You’ll just toss my necklace aside one day.

“You didn’t take any pictures of us tonight. You’re slipping this year. But I’ll forgive you if you take a selfie with me.”

Before I can say no, Mandi, already posed for a perfect selfie, takes a few shots of us with her iPhone. “I’ll text you the pics,” she says.

Later as I’m looking through the pictures, I imagine that Mandi and I was a couple. She looks great in every photo. I look like a stupid, awkward acne-faced deer in the headlights.

“
Are they serious?”

Carl, too busy slaughtering other players in
Call of Responsibility (aka COR, our favorite first person shooter and time/life waster),
ignores my question for the fourth time. I whack his back.

He hurls expletives at me and pauses the game. “Yes, Shaggy.  They’re fucking serious.”

“How
fucking serious
are they?”

Carl shakes his head at me. “Let’s say that they’re so sweet with each other, I get diabetes just by being near them. Now, are we done being nosey about my sister’s love life? Give it up already, man. She’s outta your league.”

I want to say more but my words are frozen. My heart’s just taken a beating from his comment. The dude knows that I’ve been in love with his sister for ages. He doesn’t care much because it has always been one-sided. And frankly, he doesn’t think I’ll ever end up with her.

I’m starting to feel that way too.

Mandi and her new beau, what’s-his-face, are fucking serious.

In the past, Mandi had never been serious about the other guys she dated. They seemed to exit her life through a constantly revolving door.

A few months after their parents got divorced, Mandi and Carl moved to this neighborhood with their mom. For her family and her close friends, Mandi wears her heart on her sleeve. With guys, she seems to guard her heart with concrete walls.

“You two are the only men I trust in my life,” Mandi had once told Carl and me.

It looks like the fortress Mandi built has crumbled. She’s fallen in love with some dude. We all know that song’s about to play out: first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage.

Shitastic.

Later that night, I look out my bedroom window and see a black Maserati parked in the driveway next door. The driver exits the car. That’s Mandi’s new boyfriend, and he, of course, just has to be Mr. Perfect. Tall? Check. Dark? Check. Handsome? Check. Wealthy? Obviously.

Chivalrous? Sure. There he goes, through all the motions, helping Mandi step out of the car. Landing a kiss on her cheek. Holding her hand. Lingering outside her door for the goodnight kiss.

I can’t watch this anymore.

All that week, I try to drown out my heartbreak and sorrow, locking myself in the testosterone- and war-filled virtual world of COR. I’ve turned into such a hardcore player that I’ve scored a one-of-a-kind weapon called the Lady Finger.

When you “finger” another player’s character, that character explodes into a million hearts on the screen. Haha. The Lady Finger literally looks like a lady’s finger, complete with a pink-manicured nail.

This game is fun, but also a serious waste of time. I’m sure that Mandi’s boyfriend doesn’t play videogames. Dude drives a Maserati. I’m guessing all he does is make money.

Wish I could use the Lady Finger on him, well on his character, if he plays COR.

The message icon flashes on my game screen.
 

ShaggyWill, You’ve received a message from xMusklonEx.

…Read New Message…

Hey, awesome PKs (player kills), ShaggyWill. I’d like to buy the Lady Finger from you. I’ll give you 5000 CritCoins (CCs) for it. Wanna trade?

~*~
 

CC’s? Are they some kind of virtual currency? I remember reading about virtual currency becoming the money of the future. They’re probably worth nothing now, but what the heck; I’ll just accept the trade. It’ll be easier for me to quit the game without my Lady Finger (LOL).