This Ordinary Life (21 page)

W
ITH THE INTERVIEW
only a few days away, Ms. Hudson sets aside an afternoon to go over everything with me. When I get to her office, she has a plate of cookies and cups of tea for us.

“Are you ready?” she asks with a smile, her white flowery headband accentuating her dark eye makeup.

“Completely,” I say. It almost seems silly, the amount of work we're putting into me getting an internship that will have nothing to do with actually being on the radio, but you have to look like a serious candidate if you want to compete. As Ms. Hudson has always told me, a foot in the door is a foot in the door.

We listen to all my recordings, cutting and splicing the best segments together. I nibble on the chocolate chip cookies and drink my herbal tea, watching Ms. Hudson work on my submission package.

“The woman you're meeting with is an old friend of mine and she knows you're my star radio student. I have a good feeling about this. Try not to worry, you'll do great. You're a natural on the air, so think of the interview like that.”

“From your lips to the radio gods' ears.”

We spend the next half hour going over things so I can be as ready as I can for Monday's trip. By the time we're done, I feel like I can do it. I say as much to Ms. Hudson and she laughs, her curly hair bouncing with the movement.

“Of course you can,” she says. “Remember, you already
are
doing it. Now, I only have one tiny bit of advice left.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Make sure to have a calm and relaxing weekend. That will help you be on your game on Monday. Any weekend plans?”

I smile to myself, wondering what Wes has planned for us tomorrow night. “Not much. Laying low.”

Not sure what my face says, but Ms. Hudson can obviously see through me. “If you say so,” she says with a smile.

I giggle when I feel my face warm. “It should be a good weekend,” I say.

It's enough to make her not ask questions but as I pack up and leave her office and start my walk home, I realize I really mean it. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night way more than I expected I would be.

Fine, I expected it. But still.

M
OM WORKS A
double Saturday so our paths don't really cross. She comes home shortly before Wes picks me up, but since I'm in my room getting ready, I can pretty much ignore her. Which is the way I like it. She wasn't happy with me taking Danny for the EEG, but whatever. He needed it and anyway, we have insurance. She can work the rest out. She's lucky I'm taking care of him, the least she can do is figure out how to pay for it. I still haven't forgiven her for that drunken night after her promise. I just can't be duped into believing things are going to change. I've noticed she hasn't been drinking the last two days, but I refuse to let the hope get any further than the tiniest shadow of a thought.

Hope is a strange and stupid thing sometimes.

I text Wes and tell him to call when he gets here. I don't want him coming to the door and God forbid meeting Mom.

I take one last look in the mirror and stuff my lip gloss and phone into a small purse. Wes told me to dress comfortably and in something easy to move around in. Whatever that means. So I'm wearing denim shorts and a casual top. I smile at the yellow shirt. So yeah, the whole
sunny
thing is really corny. But it's cute too and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't fishing for it.

Wes texts me not even five minutes later. I'm out the door with a quick kiss to Danny and a wave to Mom. I don't wait for her response. If I don't talk to her, she doesn't exist. Hence, no bad mood or bad date juju.

Wes leans against the passenger side door. He's wearing khaki shorts and a dark green tee shirt and brown braided flip flops. The setting sun highlights the natural blond streaks in the flop of hair that lies on his forehead. He pushes it back in that simple motion of his and gives me that smile smirk smile. Wow. Calm down, flailing stomach.

“Sunny,” he says, pushing off the car, that wide, perfect grin stretched across his face. “You look amazing.”

Blood rushes to my face and I look down at my sandals. “Thanks. You too.”

“Come on,” he says, throwing an arm across my shoulders and opening my door. This time I let him.

When he slides into the driver's seat he tosses me his iPod. “Here, you control the music. You know how comical mine can be. Besides, you're a DJ and all.”

I giggle. “Okay, cool. But I need to know the theme of the night.”

“I was supposed to theme it? Shit. I worked hard enough to come up with fun stuff to do.”

“No, but when I do the morning show, there's always a theme to the day and the music revolves around that. Hello, I thought you've been listening to my show?”

His mouth quirks up in an adorably confused expression. “I have, but… I don't get it?”

“Okay, fine.” I scroll through his playlists. “Can you at least tell me where we're going?”

“Of course. First stop, train station.”

“Wait, what?”

“Second stop, Times Square.”

I can't help it, I squeal. “Oh my God, really? New York is one of my favoritest places.”

Wes looks proud of himself as he turns out of my neighborhood. I tap the screen and play some dance music. Something
with a lot of bass. My heart thuds to the pulse of the music and excitement knots in my stomach. He turns up the volume as we drive toward the city.

F
IRST OF ALL
, who knew there was a massive and awesome laser tag center in Times Square? Apparently Wes did.

We run around the huge, dark rooms, lit only by neon artwork and black lights, chasing and shooting each other with laser guns. I think I land shots on Wes more than he lands them on me, but we're not really keeping score.

I'm at one of the reload stations, my gun locked into the machine that “charges” it with laser. I look over my shoulder, ducking out of view while in my vulnerable and unarmed position. The contraption lights up, telling me I'm ready to go, and I move quickly to get back onto the pseudo battlefield. When I turn, laser gun in hand, Wes is right in front of me, aiming at the canvas target on my vest. The laser lights up the target and he laughs like a maniac as I try to duck and weave around him.

We race into the next room, which is just as dark with plenty of shadowed hiding spots. I crouch behind a tower and wait. Catching him unaware when he turns the corner, I jump out and shoot the back of his vest, laughing as I run away. Eventually, our guns stop working, signaling the end of our paid time. We return our lasers and vests and walk into the bright lobby, wincing at the light.

Wes hands me a huge bottle of water and I take a big gulp.

“That was amazing.” I nod toward the high tech battlefield, my adrenaline still rushing.

Wes smiles, cheeks flushed and with that flop of hair disheveled and pointing in different directions. “I've never been here. But laser tag used to be one of my favorite things in the world
when I was a kid. It's gotten way more high tech since then. That was awesome! You hungry?”

My stomach groans in response and I grin. “Yeah. I think I worked up an appetite.”

We press together as we make our way through the crowded streets. Wes wraps an arm around my waist to guide me. I lean into him, craning my neck to take in the skyscrapers and the animated ads on each building we pass, as high as I can see. The subway rumbles beneath our feet as we pass over the grates, the warm air rushing against our legs. We pass street vendor after street vendor selling souvenirs and artwork. Some of them sell food too, and the smell of roasted nuts and souvlaki meat adds to the intoxicating energy and sensory overload of New York. I bask in it.

“What are you thinking about?” Wes asks as he pulls a door open to usher me into a pizza place.

“New York,” I say. “The energy is crazy awesome here. I'll be back on Monday for my interview. I can't imagine actually getting to be a part of all this every day.”

Wes moves toward the dining room in the back, holding my hand to pull me through the crowd.

“You'll get it,” he says definitively as he holds up two fingers to the hostess across the aisle.

I shrug as she seats us and push away all thoughts of the competition. “I really, really hope so. This is all I've ever wanted to do.”

“You want to practice on me?” Wes asks as he opens my menu for me.

“Nah. I'm ready. I'm not even thinking about it until Ms. Hudson and I get on that train on Monday morning.”

“You getting pizza or pasta?”

I frown at the menu. “I don't eat gluten, so I'm not sure I'm getting anything.”

“What!” Wes's face drops. “Why didn't you tell me? Let's go somewhere else.” He stands halfway and by the time I grab his hand I'm laughing loud enough to draw the attention of people around us.

“Got you!” I say, still laughing.

“You are pure evil.”

“Come on. That was a good one. You totally fell for it.”

He holds the menu in front of his face and doesn't answer. I walk my fingers across the table and hook them under his menu and wave.

“Seriously, though.” I say, even though I'm still giggling. “This is the best night ever.”

When he finally drops his menu, a pouty frown takes over his face. Reluctantly, he reaches across the table and takes both of my hands in his. I wiggle them as if to escape, playing like I'll pull them away. He tightens his grasp.

“It's not over yet,” he says.

“I can already tell you,” I say. “The whole night, all of it, is awesome. Even the parts that haven't happened yet.”

Wes's eyes soften, even his smirk disappearing as his smile widens bigger than I've ever seen it.

I guess the laser tag made us hungrier than we realized because we order appetizers, salads and pasta and even though the portions are gigantic, I can't help myself—I eat every bite.

“Thanks for dinner.” I hook my arm through his as we step back onto the busy sidewalk.

“Of course,” he says, steering me down a side street. We walk that way through the warm night, arm in arm, for what feels like both five minutes and five hours, talking about everything under the glittering New York lights.

“Ah, we're here!” Wes stops in front of what looks like an innocuous glass doorway. I look up and see a huge vertical sign that says M
IDTOWN
C
OMICS
and drop my face into my hands.

“Oh God, I can't get away from comics, even outside my house!” But I laugh as we push through the door and up a narrow staircase. Once inside, I follow Wes around as he explains various comic book characters and comic book styles to me. I'm clueless to most of what he talks about, but his excitement over it is pretty adorable. He buys a few things and after we check out, hands me a bag.

“A few for Danny,” he says. “Some Iron Man ones that aren't so easy to find.”

“That's his favorite!” My stomach starts to do that swirly acrobatic backflip thing again.

“I remember,” he said. “A true comic fan never forgets another man's favorite.”

This time when I hook my arm through his, I press a little bit tighter than I did before.

“Our final stop,” he says a few minutes later, waving his hand with a flourish. My eyes widen when I look up and into the big glass window.

“Junction Records?” I clap my hands and rush through the door, Wes right behind me. While most people would probably lose themselves in the records and CDs first, I scan the store and head upstairs where I can see the equipment area. I pick up set after set of headphones and play with the sound boards. Even though some of this stuff is for performance DJs who mix records and get people on the dance floor, there is
some
overlap with the stuff I've always wanted to try out.

I slip on a pair of yellow Bortan headphones. They are the best of the best in the radio business. They're also crazy expensive. I close my eyes and press them against my ears. They feel like a million bucks. I imagine this is what some girls feel like when they wear diamonds.

A poster on the back wall of the section catches my eye. It's Brian, Sarah, Johnny and Latisha of the Get Up and Go Morning
Show, endorsing the Bortan brand. Seeing their faces invigorates me. I run my hand along the poster. I am going to be in the same room as these people in less than 48 hours! I put the headphones back and grab Wes's hand, dragging him toward the records. We wander around a bit more, along with tons of other New Yorkers and tourists shopping in the famous store.

By the time we get back to Penn Station, I'm soaring on the high of the evening. We walk through the tiled hallways, his arm around me with my head on his shoulder. It's crowded when we get to the platform and Wes stands behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I lean back against him and he rests his chin on the top of my head, his fingers drumming softly against my stomach.

“Best night ever,” I whisper on a shuddery breath.

We fill the train ride with nonstop talking and joking, but once we reach the car, we're quiet for almost the whole drive. I steal glances at Wes and contemplate things. If someone had told me I'd be breaking up with my boyfriend of almost a year and then finding this other guy, an amazing guy, really, I would've never believed it. I've always been completely against the rebound thing. I don't want to like Wes as much as I do already, but somehow, he's wiggled his way into my life. He's gotten under my skin. He's not only adorably cute and sweet and nice, but he's understanding too. He gets my family, and he's so great to Danny. I've even told him more about Mom than I have almost anyone except for Frankie. And he's nothing like Sebastian was. I feel deep in my bones that Wes would be trustworthy. That he
is
trustworthy. Wes is different than other boys.