Secondary Characters (5 page)

“Really?” my mom asks, her eyebrows raised in my direction.

“Yep, he was really nice. I think he likes Maybie,” Sophie says with a big goofy smile. My mom is staring at me and my cheeks warm.

“Really? So, tell me more about this Lance guy,” she says, apparently forgetting that she was about to chew me out.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s just a guy from school.”

“Is this the same Lance you went out with last weekend?” She stands up, lifting Sophie with her, wet towel and all.

“I didn’t
go out
with him. We just went along on Amber and Nick’s date. Like, for support.” I try to explain, but I know she’s not buying it. She’s just nodding her head and smirking. I guess I sound about as believable as a chocolate covered kid claiming they didn’t steal a cupcake.

“Uh-huh,” my mom says, but she doesn’t push it any further. She smiles turns down the hall toward Sophie’s room. “I just hope he’s nicer than that Mike guy.”

Even though she’s no longer facing me, she freezes and I can tell she didn’t mean to say it out loud. It just slipped out and now she’s standing there, frozen in mid-step. It’s only for a split second, but it’s as if the silence is a giant hot air balloon inflating between us. Finally her foot hits the floor and she keeps walking.

I slip into my own room and plop onto my bed, tempted to crawl under the quilt. Try as I might, I can’t help but think about Mike. He didn’t have the goatee before and I thought he was so cute. I can’t quite remember why, now. We only dated for about a month last year and it wasn’t like I was in love with him or anything. I just … I just really liked him.

It turned out, he really liked Amber.

It started out innocently enough. He’d compliment Amber on things when we’d hang out together, her hair, or her clothes. I thought he was just being nice to my best friend, the way a boyfriend should be. But the comments got more and more flirtatious. I wasn’t entirely oblivious or anything. I just convinced myself I was being paranoid. He was with
me
. He liked
me.
Stupid, I guess.

Then one weekend we played couples tennis at Amber’s country club with this guy she was kinda sorta dating. When we were done, Mike smacked her on the ass and said something along the lines of
nice game
. I was pissed. Livid. Hot-lava-boiling-my-brain angry.

But then he walked over to me, put his arm around my shoulders, and we left. So, even though the flames were still burning behind my eyes, I told myself I was just being jealous for no reason. Clearly he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just goofing around. Some guys are just like that, friendly, flirtatious, whatever. I tried really hard to believe it.

I still don’t know what Amber thought. How long she knew, but didn’t want to tell me. I mean, how do you tell your best friend that her boyfriend is hitting on you? Especially when it’s happening right in front of her? I suppose she thought I’d be pissed at her.

But when he asked her out, she had no choice but to tell me.

I could tell she didn’t want to. She called and told me we needed to talk. When she got to my house she sat on my bed forever, tugging on the ear of a teddy bear Sophie had left in my room, not saying anything. Finally she blurted it out. I still don’t know all the details. When I asked her what exactly he said, she claimed she couldn’t remember. And she refused to make eye contact with me.

But I can imagine what he must have told her. How she was the beautiful one. The one he couldn’t stop thinking about. How he didn’t want to be with plain, boring Mabel any more.

Like I said, I wasn’t in love with him or anything. It’s not like I was grief-stricken. But it hurt. A lot.

I try to tell myself not all guys are like that. I mean, I know that not all guys are big enough scumbags to ask out their girlfriend’s best friend.

And not all guys prefer the pretty, perfect, blonde cheerleader type, either.

Do they?

Chapter Eight

“So why didn’t you ask her out last night?” Nick asks, sitting on the couch in my basement. I’ve just finished telling him about my and Mabel’s mini-adventure in the park.

“Because we were already getting together tonight. I thought it would seem weird.” I get up from the couch and turn away from him.

“You’re so full of shit.” He laughs.

“Screw you. I’m going to ask her out tonight. Okay?” I walk over to the cupboard with the movies in it and start straightening them, alphabetizing them, distracting myself by cleaning up. Even though it wasn’t a mess. I’ve been getting ready all day.

“You are not. You’re the biggest freaking chicken I know.”

“Just shut up, all right?” I snap at him. The girls are going to be here soon, and my hands are already sweating like an Olympian sprinter’s armpits.

“I will bet you ten bucks that I get another date with Amber before you get a date with Maybie.” He’s leaning forward on the couch looking up at me with a smug expression on his stupid face.

“I can’t believe Maybie even talked Amber into coming tonight. Even if Amber forgives you for ignoring her in favor of your phone, you were still pretty damn boring. If you want to get another date, you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than you did last weekend.”

He grins, showing his perfectly white teeth. “Well, tonight there won’t be a table between us.”

I shake my head. “You’re a tool.” The doorbell rings and my head spins toward the sound. Nick taps his hands against his knees. The bastard is all talk. He’s nervous as all hell, too.

Honestly, it kind of makes me feel better.

I wipe my palms on my jeans, and go answer the door. I take a deep breath, swing it open, and am greeted by a guy in a greasy shirt with a giant pizza box. “Thanks,” I say as I hand him the cash. I take the pizza down to the basement, where Nick has pulled down all the movies I had just so carefully organized.

***

Amber leans closer to the full-length mirror in her bedroom, her mouth stretched open as she puts on her mascara. Then she leans back, looks at her reflection and pouts. “What if it’s horrible?” she whines.

“You’ll live.”

She turns around and sticks out her bottom lip at me, putting her hands on her hips. It took her an hour to pick out her outfit. She finally settled on a pink-and-blue striped cardigan over a white slip top and her best jeans.

“It’s going to be fine,” I say in an attempt to comfort her. She’s way more nervous about this date than the first one.

So am I.

“Why are you freaking out anyway?” I ask her. “He’s the one who needs to prove he’s not a complete loser.
You’re
fine.”

“It is kind of cute he was all embarrassed about his mom texting him,” she says, twirling her mascara wand between her fingers before sliding it back into the bottle.

I know Lance asked me not to tell her, but of course I told her right away. There’s no way she would have agreed to this otherwise.

“But what if he wasn’t talking much last time because he thought
I
was boring? Or, what if he just really is boring? Ugh. He was so perfect in my head.” She plops down on her bed, wrinkling her nose.

I laugh at her. “First of all, you should always assume a guy will be about ten times dumber and a hundred times less romantic in real life than he is in your daydreams.”

She chucks the mascara bottle at me, then slouches back down and taps at her nails. She’s not normally the kind to get nervous before a date.

“Secondly,” I say loudly, making her look back up at me. “He doesn’t think you’re boring. He wouldn’t have had Lance beg me to beg you for another chance if he thought you were boring. And thirdly, he was nervous. Give him a break.” I find myself echoing Lance’s words.
She’s Aphrodite to his Zeus.

I spin away from her and pretend to look through her eye shadows.

“It is pretty sweet that he was so nervous around me,” she says. “I mean, he’s so good looking I’d just never thought about him getting nervous, ya know?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble back, trying to pretend like I’m paying attention, when really, I’m trying to calm myself down by counting how many different shades of brown shadow she owns. She keeps talking about Nick’s eyes and his smile, but all I can think about are Lance’s eyes. Lance’s smile, the way it transforms his whole face and makes it nearly impossible not to smile back.

I’ve been anxious about tonight all week, too. Every time I see Lance in school my heart gets all fluttery and my stomach starts to dance an Irish jig.

Then, after what happened with Sophie yesterday, I swear I was ready to just fall into his arms right there in front of my house. Pathetic, yes, but he was like my knight in shining armor. I don’t know what I would have done without his help.

So yeah, I was totally swooning. At least I
was
, right up until he asked if Amber and I were coming over tonight. He visibly pouted when I said something about Amber and Nick working it out.

I look over at Amber as she applies her lip gloss, looking like a teenage boy’s dream come true with her pouty lips and curvy figure, and can’t help but wonder which one of us he’s really looking forward to seeing tonight.
She’s Aphrodite.

But I’m being crazy, right? He acted like he was interested in me. (Of course, I thought that about Mike, too.) And he knows Amber’s there to see Nick. He set it up. Is it possible that knowing things didn’t go well with Nick last time, he thinks maybe he can swoop in?

Stop it Maybie. You’re being crazy.
Not all guys are scum.
Not all guys are infatuated with Amber. Lance is not going after his best friend’s crush.

At least, I don’t think he is.

“I’m going to try and forget all about last time,” Amber says, “I mean, it was one bad night. Everyone’s allowed one bad night, right? I’ll just pretend like tonight’s the first date.” She waves her arms in front of her like she’s literally wiping the slate clean. “I really
want
to like him, ya know? Tonight had better be good, though.”

I smile at her, resisting the urge to roll my eyes or, better yet, chuck all her eye shadows at her. I want to be a good friend and all but sometimes I wish everything didn’t always have to be about
her
.

Where’s my pep talk?
When do I get to be Aphrodite?

“Okay,” she says, turning to me and striking a pose. “How do I look?”

I try to remember that it’s not her fault. Not her fault that she looks like teen Barbie. Not her fault that she’s always the lead, while I’m just the sidekick.

Not even her fault that she’s only thinking about her and Nick. She has no idea that I’m totally freaking out about this date, trying to figure out whether or not this
is
a date for me and Lance, or just us helping out our besties. She doesn’t know I’m suddenly all gaga over Lance.

After the huge deal I made over not wanting to go out with him, I haven’t exactly confessed to my complete 180.

“Great. You look great,” I say, and fake a smile.
Just great enough that no one will notice I’m in the room.

We walk to Lance’s, it’s a pretty little yellow house with white steps leading up to a dark grey door. We knock and Lance opens it to let us in, looking amazing in jeans and a black sweater. The sleeves are pushed up, exposing his lean, muscular forearms. I watch the muscles move under his skin as he shuts the door.
I think I’m losing my mind.

His mom walks up behind him, holding a bowl of chips and grinning at us. “It’s so nice to meet you girls! You must be Mabel.” She shakes my hand, then turns to Amber and does the same. Then she hands Lance the bowl and says, “Behave yourselves,” as we head down to the basement.

Nick is sitting on the floor next to a cupboard full of DVDs. He’s pulled a bunch of them onto the floor and is shuffling through them. He looks up when we walk in and smiles at Amber. His perfect grin does nothing for me now. Somehow, he seems far less stunning than he used to.

“How about
Psycho
?” he asks, holding up a black and white DVD case. My throat starts to tighten up.

“How about a comedy this time?” Lance, standing beside me, says quickly. I let out a sigh of relief as he puts his hand on the small of my back, just for a second, and winks. I feel my face get warm and know I’m blushing. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll think it’s the reflection from the TV. A girl can hope, right?

An hour later, we’re sitting in the dimly lit basement watching
Bridesmaids
. Amber and Nick have figured out how to get past the awkwardness of trying to come up with something to say to each other: they’re making out on the couch.

Part of me scoffs and thinks “well jeez, that was fast.” The rest of me is crazy jealous.

Chapter Nine

That jackass.
How the hell does he do it?!
I can’t believe he’s making out with Amber. I can hear them rustling behind me and it makes me want to throw up, because I know he’s going to give me all kinds of crap about how much smoother he is than me as soon as the girls go home. Not to mention I’m incredibly jealous. He so owes me for this.

Mabel sits in the recliner next to mine, looking absolutely amazing in a pale yellow, v-neck sweater. Her dark brown hair is down, the curls falling over her shoulders, and I can’t believe how much I want to run my fingers through it. My pulse races in my ears and I keep wiping the sweat off my hands onto my jeans. How does a person even go from sitting here, not talking, to, well, where Nick and Amber are?

Maybie turns and look at me a couple of times. And looks at them. I’d like to believe she’s thinking what I’m thinking, but I seriously doubt it. More likely she’s thinking,
look at them. Our job appears to be done, can I go home now?

Trying to figure this shit out is like trying to read a riddle in a foreign language. You know there’s some point, some direction there somewhere, but how are you supposed to solve the clue when you can’t even decipher the first word?