The Starter Boyfriend (12 page)

He rammed his hands inside the pockets of his sweatshirt, which strained the material across his shoulders. If it wasn’t for the gleam in his eye, I might have thought him upset or angry or something.

Like Adam would care if I went on a friend-date with Randy. Or a real one. With anyone.

“Excellent,” he said, mugging a grin. “We should coordinate our spy watches and assign times and places tomorrow night to meet up for misery-loves-company rendezvous.”

I laughed again, although this one didn’t give me that same sense of relief. Especially when a plastic plate of grilled hot dogs and mounds of potato salad and potato chips was rudely forced between Adam and me.

“Hey,” Randy said, accompanying the plate.

I felt my body stiffen, wondering how much he’d heard, and if trying to cover up the misery-loves-company crack would make things better or worse. Instead I asked if the guys knew each other.

They both nodded. My intention for those nods to blossom into actual words and then some sort of conversation died a quick death. Randy chewed, Adam stared, I shifted from foot to foot.

After a week or more had passed, Adam made this back-of-this-throat noise, then said he was heading out. “Back to my bros. You have a good night, okay?”

“You, too,” I said, and I was pretty sure Randy’s grunt meant the same.

Adam’s evenly spaced eyes stayed on me. “Call me if you need anything.”

I blew out a laugh. He was kidding, right? Needed him? When had I
ever
needed or relied on him? Tonight, of all nights—when I actually had a date-that-was-a-date—would fall at the very end of that spectrum.

But my laugh simply hung in the air between us, until he shrugged and turned, crossing the sand into the darkness.

Beside me, Randy gave me a matter-of-fact, “Let’s go,” but it was hard to tear my eyes or my confused thoughts from Adam’s retreating body. Not unlike how I usually felt when I turned off the lights and locked the door at night on Tux.

How weird was that?

Chapter 14

Randy and I slugged through the sand, drawn toward the glow of the bonfire. My mind was spinning with the slow realization that Adam and I had somehow crossed a line to being legitimate friends when Randy’s voice cut in.

“How do you know that slacker surfer, anyway?”

I tensed, preparing to defend Adam’s honor. Until I realized that I pretty much couldn’t. He definitely put that vibe out there, even though he was a fairly cool slacker surfer, who got decent grades and at least
talked
about going to college. “Oh,” I said instead, “our dads have a dental practice together.”

“That’s it?”

What else did he want to hear? That I’d once had an epic crush on Adam that he’d either not sensed or not wanted to act on? I just shook my head.

“Good.”

Glancing over, I saw his face backlit by the vast, dark sky, and swirls of light from the three-quarter moon. In movies, this was basically the stuff romances were made of. But not for me—not here, not now. Not with him. “Good?”

“Good that you two didn’t date. The guys would have eaten me alive for that, being with
his
ex.”

Everything inside me tightened. Nothing about my life, past or present, was his or his friends’ business. Not to mention, if he would just open his eyes, he’d see those guys didn’t give a flying fig about me. (Well, except for Science, who’d made his thick-toothed desires abundantly clear.)

And then there was the fact that Adam was a heck of a lot more fun to be around than Randy or any of his group, anyway.

This whole thing was getting old. I yanked my hood up for protection against the wind—and to put another layer of defense between him and me.

People were scattered in small groups around the bonfire. Standing on a beach chair, reading a speech or declaration of some sort, was a long-necked guy I was pretty sure was our Student Body President.

Science stood from a splintered log and raised a hand at us, sending Randy veering in that direction. I let him settle next to his friend—I was nothing if not considerate—and then plopped my own blue-jeaned butt on the far end, half of which ended up hugging thin air. Not optimum, but it beat the alternative of crushing against my date.

I’d barely taken in a moment of fire-generated warmth when Jacy appeared and pushed her rear down between the guys. I did a quick phone check for one of those important and distracting texts that I kept praying someone would send, and when I looked back up, she’d leaned forward and across Randy to fake a smile at me.

“You doing okay down there, Courtney?”

I arched a brow, figuring she could see my face just fine in the flickers of orange-yellow light. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,
babycakes
. You tell me.”

Babycakes? That was so wrong from her mouth.

I frowned, only to see her “meet” my frown and “ante up” an eye dragger.

Randy must have sensed the static because his big old arm shot out and around me. Probably in a comforting way, but give me a break. I slid off the end of the log, my intent being a purposeful and graceful exit. The reality was more like a hard thump on my hip, and then toppling all the way over on my right side to take a nice bite of sand.

Laughs sounded from somewhere around me.

Okay, Olympic gymnast, I was not. Still, I wasn’t usually a total klutz, either. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Jacy was descended from a long line of witches and some serious nose-wiggling had been involved in my calamity.

Standing to brush myself off, I was totally done with her head games. “Come on, Jacy, let’s take a walk.”

She did an exaggerated head wiggle, then stood to her feet and followed me.

I felt numerous sets of eyes on us as if we were about to have some kind of serious “Jersey Shore” hair-pulling war.

When I figured we were out of general earshot, I stopped and nailed her with a glare. “Look, like I told you the other day, he means nothing to me. You’re wasting your time harassing me.”

“Harassing you? I’m just defending myself.”

“Defending your territory, you mean. Like telling your friends that there would be murder if one of them went to Homecoming with Randy.”

She screwed her face into a
What the
—? “That’s the second time you’ve...where’d you hear that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, considering I never said that? Yeah, it pretty much does.”

I studied her (surely lying) eyes, my thoughts floating back. It had been in front of my locker with Flea, Madison and Saffron the morning of the “Lost Dog” flyer. Saffron had shaken a finger at me—like I was her bestie, rather than someone she’d tried to keep from knowing about her big party—assuring me I’d be a great match for him, and reminding me that I’d be safe from Jacy’s wrath since I wasn’t part of that crowd.

Still, no way I was ratting out my teammate to this girl. Especially when Randy himself had told me the same thing, like it had been common knowledge. Feeling no reason to protect him, I lifted a hand to point at his back.

“Randy?” she asked. After I nodded, she said his name louder. And louder again. Until he turned his head, then got his butt off the log and wandered toward us.

“You told Courtney,” Jacy blasted, “that I threatened my friends to keep them from going to Homecoming with you?”

Emotions blew across his face before settling on what looked like confusion. “Well, didn’t you?”

“No way! First of all, that’s just cold. And none of my real friends would have gone with you, anyway. They’d know it would hurt me.”

“Well, that’s what I heard.”

“From who?” she demanded.

He rolled his eyes heavenward as if in deep thought, and then focused his gaze back on her. “Saffron. Yeah, Saffron.”

“
Saffron
?” Jacy and I echoed. Me because she was also my informant, and Jacy because, well, just because.

“In the courtyard,” he went on, nodding. “When she stopped to help me pull down those effed-up flyers you made.”

“That I didn’t make.”

My gaze ping-ponging between them, I wasn’t sure who was lying, who was telling the truth, and even whose team I was on.

“She told you I made them?” Jacy pushed on.

“Yeah, but she didn’t have to.”

Score another for Saffron because she had told me Jacy had made the flyers, too. Not to forget that little tale she told me about Jacy “letting” Randy go to the dance with me for a free tuxedo rental. Which, of course, was totally bogus. And when I’d pushed her on that, she’d back-pedaled to admit she might have gotten it wrong. Just another way of saying it was all B.S.

Watching Randy and Jacy continue to stare each other down, I couldn’t help wonder what else Saffron had lied about.

“Come on, Jace,” Randy said, the anger falling from his tone. “Who else would have made those flyers? Who else just broke up with me? Who else hated me?”

“I didn’t... I don’t... I don’t hate you. Anything but.” She dropped her head. “Randy, your mom, when she insisted I tell you the color of my dress at that very moment, I lost it, okay? I lost it.”

I could hear her voice thickening, knowing tears wouldn’t be far behind. Making me feel like a total third wheel, not the one who had called this Old Western Showdown.

“We both know she how she feels about me,” she choked out. “I don’t see how we could
ever
make things work between us as long as she is calling the shots.”

“She’s not calling the shots, baby,” he said, moving in with that arm he seemed to like to drape around girls’ shoulders. Giving me a big old conk on the noggin that his arm around me earlier had been about Jacy, too. His friends didn’t find me hot, weren’t congratulating him on “trading up.” He’d been trying to make Jacy jealous. Because he was hurting. Because he was in love with her.

“I stand up to my mom, Jace. Really, I do.”

I found myself shaking my head, totally siding with Jacy on that one. Mama Schiff had her boy totally whipped. And until he made a clean break—like went off to college—it was in Jacy’s best interest to keep her distance.

Then I realized: wait, what was I thinking? And what was I doing, caught in the middle of this love-fest? I was supposed to be his date, for God’s sake!

“Hey, so,” I said, and did a throat clear.

They turned toward me, her head on his shoulder, his arm around hers. Looking like the perfect all-American Homecoming couple. And bringing to mind a totally random song from my “Sesame Street” watching days: “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn’t belong...”

That thing, of course, being me.

“I’m going to let you two work on this tonight. And then, Randy, how about we talk in the morning and decide what’s what with us going to the dance?”

His brow went all heavy, and he took a step away from Jacy and toward me. He was probably having an attack of conscience that he’d just screwed this thing up Homecoming King royally.

Jacy was fast, moving around in front of him. “Thanks, Courtney. You’re amazing to do this for us.”

I just shook my head, then pivoted for the trek back across the sand. Wishing I’d stood my ground about driving my car here, but figuring I could catch a ride back to campus with someone. Or make a call.

Besides, transportation seemed the least of my concerns. Because what I could not get out of my head was the sincerity in Jacy’s adamant denials and Randy’s confusion. And the fact that the same name kept coming up again and again in all of this.

Chapter 15

I trudged across the beach toward the pavilion, feeling itchy all over from sand and a generally creepy night.

Not only did I need a ride, but I was dying to bounce these crazy thoughts about Saffron off someone—namely, Flea. Just not tonight in case the girls were all still together at the frozen yogurt store. Or back at one of their houses. Like if Saffron had suggested a sleepover after they’d walked away from me, or—

Stop! I told myself, glancing toward the pavilion lights. One thing at a time. And right now, I had to concentrate on getting to my car.

I went to dig out my phone, only to hear the deep bellow of my name, shouted in a voice so familiar that I knew that job was already done.

Yep, sitting on an empty picnic table was the Big Kahuna himself, his sandaled feet on the bench, hood pushed back, his eyes on me. A few teachers and moms blurred the background, crumbling up tablecloths and covering veggie platters, but the closer I got to him, the stronger I felt a you-and-me-against-the-world thing.

Weird, right? Just the honest truth.

“Hey, little girl,” Adam called out when I got in apparent razzing range. “Why aren’t you around the campfire, singing ‘Kumbaya’ with the other kiddies?”

I waffled between a sarcastic “yeah-yeah” and the smile that wanted out, settling on hiking up on the table beside him. I sat close enough to siphon off some of his body heat, but careful not to give him any bogus messages like that I missed him or wanted to be with him. I mean,
really
.

“I’m done with that for now.” I didn’t want to come across too desperate about needing a ride. “What’s your excuse? Why are you still here?”

“Oh, my buddies took off, but I wasn’t done watching these jocks act like they discovered and owned the beach. I actually heard a guy tell a girl that being near the ocean is good for the soul because you can only see its beginning, but never its end.” He made a fingers-down-the-throat noise. “Is that what these guys say when they’re trying to get some?”

I pushed my hood off, too. “I wouldn’t know. But sounds more like a line from a sympathy card to me.” Or something twisted out of Science’s mouth.

“What do they think my bros and me are out here doing everyday? You can’t surf the beginning or middle of the ocean. It’s all about riding it in.”

I shook my head and considered telling him the crazy stuff
I’d
just heard on the beach—about his Homecoming date. But even though he had a right to know, I couldn’t bring myself to go there, not right then. Sitting so close together, beneath the big sky and all the stars, well, Saffron was about the last person I wanted to evoke.