My Bittersweet Summer (13 page)

Three in, six out.

Three in, six out.

Two in, four out.

I realized, much to my horror, Zach was ahead of me and not slowing one bit. Biting back the pain in my shoulder, I pushed forward. One more trip to the bucket and I’d be—

“Done!” he said, followed by a splash of finality.

I spun, disbelieving my own ears. “That’s not… You can’t be…”

He crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Check it if you don’t believe me. I even got behind the bar.”

Crossing the room, I looked in every corner and under the tables, even bending over the counter to see the tiles behind the bar sparkling clean. “How the hell?”

“So, you’re free Saturday, if I heard your mom correctly,” Zach said.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto a stool. I lost. I lost? That couldn’t be right. There was no way. It wasn’t possible.

He leaned against the bar beside me, positively beaming. “What do you say, Mighty Mouse? Pick you up at six?”

My jaw clenched. I knew I shouldn’t be mad. It was my own stupid fault for taking the bet in the first place. Never gamble unless you know you can win. How many times had I told myself that exact thing?

“Well?”

I threw my hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on this date thing. I’m not one of those chicks from across the bridge who—”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Margie,” he said, laughing. “It’s only dinner. Calm down.”

I grunted. “Where?”

“Where what?”

I stuck a hand on my hip and lifted an eyebrow at him. “Where are you going to take me?”

Zach tilted his head back and hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno yet. It’ll have to be a surprise.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire my confidence.”

Winking at me, he pushed off the bar. “Relax, Mighty Mouse. You and your left hook have nothing to worry about. And you never know…” He stopped outside the kitchen door to grin at me again. “You might actually enjoy yourself.”

After glaring at the exit for quite a while once he was gone, I remembered I still had a chore to finish. A quick swipe of the mop and I was done and putting everything away for the night. As the dirty water swirled down the drain, I sighed.

A flaming disaster was headed my way, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to put out the fire.

*
 
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The sound of an incoming message woke me the next morning.

Just saw your text from last night! WTF Margie????

When I remembered what it was I’d messaged her about, my stomach twisted into a giant knot.

Tell me you’re off today.

Opened at 9. Done by 2. Swing by then?

Please. Freaking out.

I’ll go straight there. C U in a few hours.

I put the phone down and laid in bed, staring at ceiling. Even though I was off work, I wasn’t going to be able concentrate on anything. Not with my date looming closer with every second that passed. For a moment, I wondered if I could fake being sick, or maybe the cramps excuse would work. Even as I thought about it, though, I knew I wouldn’t do it. After all, if I’d won the race, I’d fully expect him to hold up his part of the bargain. Besides which, all that would do was delay the inevitable. Eventually I’d have to make good on my promise, and I didn’t want to live with it hanging over my head. It was better to get it out of the way.

My situation could’ve been a whole lot worse. At least Zach was cute, so there was that. Not that it was enough to keep me from feeling nauseated at the idea of spending so much time with him, but it was something, anyway.

I stayed in bed and read for a good ninety minutes before hunger finally forced me to leave the room. An egg, toast, and pot of coffee later, I was half a book down and in need of a shower. Lunch wandered by along with the rest of my morning, and it was two o’clock before I knew it. Why did time only speed by when you wished it wouldn’t?

By the time Destiny got there, my nerves were edging toward critical mass. What if I started puking the second he pulled up to the house?

“Oh, thank God,” I said as I opened the door for her. “I’m completely freaking out here, Des.”

“Any chance for coffee?” she asked. “I have a feeling this is kind of a long story.”

I hooked her arm and sighed, leading her toward the kitchen. “Yeah, just made a fresh pot. Hope there’s nowhere you need to be today. I seriously need your help.”

I told her everything over two mugs of dark, steaming brew, including all that Zach had said to me over the last few weeks about trying to change. I only managed a few brief glances at her face as I spoke, but each time I did her eyes had gotten a little wider.

“And my stupid shoulder was bothering me so bad last night I totally failed. If I try getting out of it, I look like a complete hypocrite.” I sighed and lifted my mug, draining the last sip of coffee. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Destiny sat back for a minute, thinking, and then wandered over to the coffee maker to refill her cup. Returning with the pot, she offered me some, which I took gratefully.

“So here’s what I think,” she said when she’d sat down again. “You’ve got a golden opportunity here.”

“Excuse me if I disagree with that,” I said, adding milk and sugar to my mug.

She put her cup down and crossed her arms. “No, hear me out. I think this is a good thing.”

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“Okay, so, the way I see it, you win no matter what. First, you get to teach him a lesson about being kind to others. After I’m done with you, he’s going to regret every second he bullied you as a kid.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, “what do you mean, when you’re done with me?”

“This is your chance to use my torture idea, Margie,” she said with a smirk. “I’m going to make sure he’s drooling from the moment he lays eyes on you.”

“What? No, I don’t want—”

“Second, this is you taking a stand for every girl out there. This is your chance to prove that it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or not, you can still bag the guy you want by being yourself.”

“Bag the… but I don’t want this guy!”

She rolled her eyes. “Bull. There’s not a straight girl in a fifty-mile radius that wouldn’t want Zach Robinson, if only for shallow reasons. As much as you talk about him, I don’t believe for a second you hate him as much as you say you do.”

“Des, you can’t really—”

“Third, even if what I just said isn’t dead-on the truth, which it is, who cares? Anywhere he takes you is gonna be a treat. Just enjoy it. You might as well get something out of it. It’s money you don’t have to spend on yourself.”

“I’d rather spend the night reading. You know I couldn’t care less about a fancy meal.”

“And fourth…” She paused at that one, studying me for a quiet minute. “What if he ends up being the real deal for you?”

My jaw sagged. “What?”

Destiny shrugged. “You never know. Maybe you and Zach are MFEO or something. It could happen. There’s only one way to know for sure.”

“MFEO?”

“Made for each other, dingbat. Haven’t you ever seen
Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Isn’t that movie like decades old?”

She waved it off. “Still a great movie, and totally relevant.”

“Uh, whatever,” I said. “So, not that I’m indulging this MFEO delusion or anything, but you’re forgetting something big here.”

“What’s that?”

Picking up my coffee, I sighed. “August. Paris. Remember? I’m not about to get into a relationship with a guy I can barely tolerate working with when I’m getting ready to leave the country for like four years, at least.”

“So have a fling or something, I don’t know. There’s nothing wrong with having fun while you’re young.”

I choked on a mouthful of coffee. “Now you’re suggesting I sleep with him? Seriously?”

She giggled. “Well, it probably wouldn’t be terrible. It’s not like he’d be your first or…”

The rising blush creeping up my neck gave away my answer before I could wrap my brain around words.

“Margie!” she said, shocked. “Are you for real? You haven’t… not even once?”

Staring at my coffee, I shook my head.

“Wow.” Destiny sat back, blowing on her mug. “I had no idea.”

“Not everyone has sex in high school, Des,” I mumbled.

“Never met the right guy, or just didn’t want to?”

“Both.”
 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to date guys, but it never worked out well for me. I had a lot of trust issues when it came to that, and, admittedly, I’d purposely kept people at arm’s length. Any male friends I had were generally boyfriends of my girlfriends, so mostly safe. Even when I’d really liked this guy in my history class, my freaking PTSD kicked in whenever he’d look at me, and my brain sort of shut down. It was an instant trigger for my fight or flight response. The way I figured it, if someone stuck it out long enough to make it past my neurotic insanity, he was probably a keeper. So far, however, no one had.

“I guess I can’t really blame you,” Des said. “Part of me wishes I’d waited. Honestly, though, it wasn’t as big a deal as I thought it’d be. The whole virgin thing is a little overrated. Anyway, maybe forget I mentioned it then. Even without that, you’ve still got three reasons tonight is good thing. Think of it as a positive, and maybe it’ll be okay.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t help stressing that I might puke the minute he shows up.” Sitting up, I realized the possibility had merit. “Think that’d send him running? I could probably work up a nice projectile vomit aimed at his car.”

Standing, she pulled me to my feet. “Oh, stop. We’ve got three hours before he shows up. That’s plenty of time to beautify the confidence back into your brain.”

Reluctantly, I followed her out of the kitchen. “It’s not a matter of—”

“Don’t argue with me,” she said. “When you know you look good, you feel more confident. It’s science or something. Now hush it. I’m gonna make sure you’re so damn gorgeous, even you won’t be able to not have faith in yourself.”

“Stop fussing with it. It looks fine.” Destiny batted my hand away from the top of the dress.

“I can’t.” I tugged it up my chest again. “I feel like I’m gonna fall out of this thing.”

“It fits perfectly, Margie. Now quit and stop moving so I can finish your face.”

She put a few finishing touches of lip-gloss on me before brushing strokes of shimmery powder across the bridge of my nose, my brow, and the apples of my cheeks.

“This is way too much trouble to go to for Zach Robinson.”

She hefted me up and led me out of the bathroom, back to my bedroom. “It’s not for him. It’s for you. Take a look.”

“After an hour under a curling iron, this better be…” I trailed off as I stepped in front of the full-length mirror.

“Worth it?” She giggled at my reaction. “Yeah, I think it was.”

I stared at myself, brown curls cascading over my bare shoulders, eyes shadowed in subtle, smoky hues of gray and sky blue, lips tinted with a soft pink. I never, ever dressed up this much.

“This is going to end very poorly, Des,” I whispered. “What’s he gonna think when he sees me like this?”

“He’s gonna think he won the hot girl lottery, is what. Stop overthinking it. If he wants your time, you make him work for it. It’s that simple.”

Turning to her, I grimaced. “You think it’s my time he’ll be after with me looking like this? Have you lost your mind?”

Destiny rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a small perfume spritzer. “Turn around, arms out.”

“I don’t wear perfume.”

“Tonight you do. Stop being so damn difficult. It’s really subtle, so don’t freak out or anything.”

Huffing, I did as she asked, a cool mist of flowery scent, maybe lily of the valley, settling around me. “That’s not bad,” I said. “What is it?”

“Natural essential oils, mostly.”

I faced her again. “Mostly?”

“And maybe pheromones.” Her grin was positively devilish.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Chill.” She giggled again. “There’s no real proof it even works. Couldn’t hurt, though.”

It was too much. I was barely tolerating being his gauge for self-improvement, how could I handle it if he decided that wasn’t enough? I hurried across the room, scooping up my phone from my nightstand and digging Zach’s last note out of the trash to get his number. “No way. Forget it. I’m gonna cancel tonight. I can’t—”

She ripped the phone from me. “Oh no you don’t. I worked too hard for you to throw it all away like that.” Waving my phone around, I was a little worried she might fling it across the room. “And unless you gave him your number already, he’ll have it for sure if you text him.”

“I’m okay with that tradeoff. Give it back.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the doorbell interrupted her. I froze. Was it six already?

“Too late,” she said, spinning on her heel and heading for the door. “Better get your shoes on. I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

Panicked, I stood there, staring at her as she left. The front door opened, but I couldn’t hear what was said, except for when Destiny yelled back at me to get the lead out. Completely flustered, I struggled with the straps of my white sandals, then almost forgot my purse and keys before walking out the front door. Hand on the doorknob, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Five in, ten out.

Six in, twelve out.

It was time.

Without looking for him, I hurried out and tried not to drop my keys as I locked the front door. After tucking them away in my handbag, I released a single slow breath and turned around.

He was staring. His blonde locks perfectly tousled as always, he looked like the million bucks he was easily worth. Zach’s gray slacks were pristinely pressed, his maroon button-down shirt his best color without a doubt, and the shade probably matched the red my face was turning. Looking anywhere but at him, I hurried over to the car where he waited with a very smug Destiny.

I flipped out my hand towards her. “Phone, please.”

She placed it on my palm. “You’re welcome.”