The Fine Art of Pretending (24 page)

Gabi
looks up from flipping through a copy of
US Weekly
as I back into the employee break room, buttery popcorn and Coke in hand. I’m exhausted and staring at three more long hours. I fall into an empty seat at the stained utility table, and Gabi frowns, stealing a handful of my dinner.

“You need to have a party.”

“Huh?” I take a ginormous sip of my caffeinated drink, waiting for the buzz to hit my veins. “Exactly what part of my dragging ass screams ‘celebration’ to you?”

“None of it,” she admits. “Which is my point. You, my girl, need a pick-me-up.”

What I
need
is to snap out of my Brandon-fog. According to the countdown calendar, I have one month left to somehow solidify myself in the
Casual
group and get Justin to ask me to Homecoming. Writing horrifically bad poetry and crying into my pillow is no longer a luxury I can afford.

“A party, huh?”

I’m not convinced a ton of strangers trashing my house will do what Gabi hopes, but it
will
serve another purpose. My parents are out of town for the weekend, my sister is spending the next two nights at Baylee’s, and I have the house to myself. What better way to prove I’m a
Casual
than throwing a party when the ’rents are away?

As if sensing possible victory, Gabi nods. “Yep, and if you give me your key when I clock out at four tomorrow, I’ll have everything ready when you get home. All you’ll have to do is take a shower, get gorgeous, and enjoy.” She scarfs another mouthful of popcorn and leans back in her folding chair, waiting for my assent.

It takes about five seconds. “Okay, I’m in,” I say. “But you better help me hide the valuables.”

We pass the bag of popcorn back and forth between us, each working the contacts on our phones to spread the word. I hesitate over Brandon’s name before sending a quick text and then turning off my phone. If he replies, I’ll spend way too long overanalyzing every word, and I have to get back to work. When nothing remains of my dinner but a smear of neon-yellow liquid on the table, I head back out before the eight-forty-five rush trickles in.

I key my code into the register and squat down to inventory the candy. A few minutes later, a pair of jean-clad, muscular legs appears opposite the glass case. When I pop up, I am eye-to-chest with Justin.

After fouling things up so badly with Brandon, I didn’t think it was possible to feel any more depressed. Apparently, I was wrong. Staring at Justin, all the mistakes I’ve made the last month rush back. If I had just stayed focused on my mission—getting
his
attention—Brandon and I wouldn’t be in such a mess right now.

But as the expression goes, the past is the past. I can only go forward. Regain focus. There are still four weeks to turn Operation Sex Appeal from a complete and utter failure into a victorious mission of triumph.

And that starts tonight.

“Hey, here to see a movie?” Wincing at my impressive observation skills, I say, “Err, what I meant was, what movie are you here to see?”

Justin flashes a lopsided grin and points at the little boy standing next to him. “I’m taking Chase to see the new cartoon that just came out.”

“
Trolls
?”

Chase jumps up and slaps his hands on the counter. “Yeah,
Trolls
!”

Justin laughs. “Obviously, my man here is excited. And since no movie would be complete without snacks, we thought we’d come see the expert.”

I smile at his brother eagerly eyeing the options. “Chase, buddy, what’s your favorite kind of candy?”

“M&Ms,” he says decidedly. “And Reese’s Pieces. And Raisinets. And—”

“Ah, a chocolate lover, huh?” I interrupt. If he’s anything like me, he could go on forever. “A kindred spirit. Tell ya what—why don’t you narrow it down to two of your absolute favorites, and I’ll see what I can do to get your brother to buy them?”

“Two?!” he asks, beaming up at me, all thick lashes and wide brown eyes.

I nod with a smile, but when I look back at his older brother, my throat constricts again.

“Two, huh?” Justin arches his eyebrow and places his elbows on the counter. He leans in and whispers, “So what are you going to do to convince me?”

Holy cannoli
. All of the blood in my body pools in my cheeks, and I swallow hard. What on earth possessed me to suggest I had any power over this boy? Justin is a force to reckon with, and I’m a dork of epic proportions. Seeing Chase so excited was impossible to resist, but faced with the older Carter brother, looking surprisingly eager for me to pay up, I’m clueless.

“Um, offer my employee discount?”

Mortified, I close my eyes and groan.

Truly, Aly, your flirting skills are unmatched
.

Hidden behind a veil of darkness, I laugh sarcastically. “Are you convinced or what?”

“I guess,” he says, his voice warm and amused. “But your negotiation skills could use some work.” My eyes snap open, and he grins. “I’m teasing. Anything the boy wants, he can have.” He reaches down and ruffles Chase’s hair. “Big brother’s treat.”

“Yes!” Chase does a fist pump, looking utterly adorable, and then turns to me with an expression implying the topic is of grave importance. “I’ve decided. I’d like Reese’s Pieces and Raisinets, please.”

Grateful to be back on an even playing field—talking to a six-year-old—I reply, “Both very fine choices, young man.” I grab the candy and, without meeting Justin’s eyes, ask, “Anything else?”

“A large Coke,” Justin answers, resuming his position against the counter. I fill the cup with sticky soda, trying to slow my breathing, and he continues. “As for anything else, guess only you can answer that.”

Even
I
can’t misinterpret that line. My heart pounds in my ears, and a giddy smile threatens to erupt as I pass Justin his drink with trembling hands. He wraps his hands around mine, removes the drink with his left, and caresses my empty hand with his right. Slowly, I meet his eyes, and his mouth kicks up in the lopsided grin that sets girls’ stomachs fluttering.

“I’m glad I saw you tonight, Aly.”

“Yeah, you, too,” I say breathlessly, mentally shaking myself for being the world’s worst flirt. “It’s, uh, really sweet of you to spend your Friday night with your little brother.”

His lopsided grin morphs into a slow and sexy smile, and I instinctively bite my lower lip. “Aly, I’m not a complete asshat.”

Justin laughs as he says it, so I know he’s joking, but I still feel like crap. It’s not that I thought he was bad; I just knew he earned his reputation for a reason. But apparently, Mr. Big, Bad Player Man has an unexpected sweet side, too. We stand there for a moment—him smiling, me gaping—before Chase grabs his arm. “We’re gonna miss the movie!”

I snap out of the trance and giggle. “Sorry, bud, but don’t worry. You have plenty of time. The previews haven’t even started yet.”

Justin lets go of my hand and takes out his wallet. Pulling out a twenty-dollar bill, he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” At my perplexed look, he laughs. “Your house? The party?” He holds up his cell phone, proving just how fast word spreads. Technology is a scary beast.

“Right, of course.” I hand him his change, praying I’ll stop being such a freak by then. “I’m glad you can come.”

They head toward theater number five, where
Trolls
doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, and Barbara sidles up to me.

“T-r-o-u-b-l-e,” she mutters, handing me a stack of large cups.

“What?” I ask, snapping my gaze away from Justin’s retreating backside.

She points in his direction and shakes a long, weathered finger. “That boy is what. I know trouble, and that was it.”

My smile returns, and I say, “You know, Barb, you’re right. Justin is nothing but trouble.”

And a perfect distraction
.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4TH

4 weeks until Homecoming

BRANDON
LONESTAR THEATRES, 5:25 p.m
.

“You
missed a hell of a night, man. Only one fight went to a judge’s decision.” I climb out of Justin’s Jeep Wrangler and shake my head. “It was a nonstop, brutal ass-kicking.”

Drew and Carlos hop out the back and meet us in the crowded parking lot. Last night I hosted our annual fight night: beer, chicken wings, and UFC pay-per-view. Since freshman year, the tradition has gone on without fail. But this year Justin bailed.

“Something came up last minute.”

Or someone
. Whenever Justin is vague with the details, I know a girl is involved.

“But next one’s on me,” he says, slapping my shoulder. “Fight, wings, I’ll even class things up with some Crown, all right?”

“Yeah, whatever.” I nod in acknowledgment, trying to shake off my shitty mood. It’s been a long-ass day. Our team won their match this morning, but standing on the sideline with Aly was awkward as hell. Her practice ran late so we didn’t get a chance to talk beforehand, and she ran out after like her car was on fire. Mom was stressed about bills, work was violently hot, and Justin was being straight-up weird. When Earl called it a day at the carwash, I knew I couldn’t just sit around waiting for Aly’s party tonight. I needed to see her again. Right now, a smile to show that we’re okay would mean everything.

We get our tickets, and the four of us enter the lobby. Immediately my eyes find Aly. She’s across the room handing an elderly couple their change, and as they walk away, her gaze shifts in our direction. Time seems to stop. But then her adorable face lights up in a smile and a tiny dimple pops in her right cheek.

It’s the first time in over a week she’s looked at me like that. My neck muscles relax, and I let go of tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Things are getting back to normal.

We cross the room, and I crack my knuckles, racking my brain for something to say. As I do, Justin edges in front of me.

Aly shakes her head and that smile widens. “Can I help you?”

His hands on the glass case, Justin peers down at the candy choices with a stupid frown. “I don’t know. Got anything good here?”

She giggles. “You oughta know. You’re starting to become one of our regulars.”

I look between them and ask the ever-brilliant, “Huh?”

Justin looks up as if he forgot I was there.
Right
. Aly gnaws on her lip. “Justin was here last night,” she explains. “He brought his little brother Chase to see
Trolls.”

“Is that right?” I ask, smiling tightly.

The concept of “family time” isn’t in Justin’s vocabulary. Since I’ve known him, the only things he’s done with his parents were when he absolutely had to. As for Chase, Justin’s a decent brother, but he acts in his own interests. He had motives for the impromptu sibling bonding.

I knew he bailed on us for a girl. I just hadn’t expected that girl to be Aly.

Justin won’t look me in the eyes. Behind me, I can feel Drew going Dr. Phil on me in his touchyfeely head. I don’t need to talk about my feelings. I know what they are. Pissed. Confused. Hurt for no reason. And, more than anything, fucking
jealous
.

The same fire that had me stalking across the gym floor last Friday scorches my veins as Justin and Aly gawk at each other. My mind flashes to Polo-Boy and my desire to put the guy’s head through the wall. I eye the glass case in front of Justin and tighten my fists.