Adorkable Page 4

  “I wanted you to have a wider selection,” she explained. “Two guys, one date, double the chance of success. Isn’t it genius? This way you can choose: smart and dorky—again, basically you in boy form—or hot and…well hot.”

  “You so owe me for this.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, eyes sparkling. “But it’ll definitely give you something to put in that journal of yours. And hey, kudos on the sex hair. I’m so jealous. Mine would never do that.”

  I nearly tripped. “What?”

  Hooker nodded. “That’s a great look for you. Now all we need to do is find a better bra to give the girls a little pick-me-up, and you’re home free.”

  Rolling my eyes, I walked down the aisle, feeling queasy. Bra support was the least of my problems. That much was clear even before the previews started.

  I ended up seated between Austin and Chaz. The first offered me the armrest, asked if my seat was comfortable enough, wanted to know if I needed anything from the concession stand. By the tenth question—Why do people like the X-Men, anyway? Justice League is so much cooler—I’d had about enough. Movies were not talk time, and the incessant questions had to stop. Besides, everyone knew there was no comparison. Members of the Justice League were just X-Men wannabes, plain and simple. With him whispering in my ear every five seconds, I could barely hear the movie.

  Chaz, though not as loquacious, was just as exasperating but for different reasons. He kept trying to put his hand on my thigh no matter how many times I swatted it away. His constant attempts to try and look down my shirt resulted in me leaning so close to Austin that, at one point, we’d ended up bumping heads. Thwarted, Chaz slumped back in his seat and told me to go buy him a large coke and popcorn with extra butter. Hearing him, Austin got upset, called him a douche, and the two started arguing back and forth with me trapped in the middle.

  The fighting didn’t stop until one of the security guys came over and threatened to throw us out. After that it was, thankfully, quiet. But by then the movie was almost over.

  As the credits rolled, Chaz stretched then said, “So, I guess it’s true what they say, Spitz. You really are uptight.”

  I whipped around. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Uptight,” he said again. “You know, frigid.”

  “Who says that?” I asked in disbelief. I was glad Austin was somewhere down the row looking for his cell. He’d dropped it during the movie. I didn’t want anyone else hearing this.

  “People.” Chaz shrugged. “Lillian said you were pretty desperate.”

  Hooker had some major explaining to do.

  “Ich bin nicht das, was Du gerade über mich gesagt hast,” I hissed. “Und Du bist ein Idiot.” Going by the confused look on his face, I may or may not have said all that in German. Plus or minus, a few swear words.

  “Whatever.”

  And then he was gone. Good thing, too, because I was about two seconds away from using that left hook Becks had taught me.

  “So,” Hooker said, gliding up to me, “how’d it go?”

  Brows raised, I rounded on her. “You told him I was desperate?”

  Her eyes widened. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

  “Hooker,” I groaned.

  “Alright, alright,” she said. “I’m sorry. Chaz was kind of a last resort. Great hair, tight butt, but not much going on upstairs. What about Austin?”

  I shook my head. How was this my life?

  “Not him either, huh?” she said. “Okay, no problem. The next one will be better, I promise.”

  “There’s not going to be a next one. I’m done.” As she walked away, locking arms with the Wolverine look-alike standing at the end of the aisle, I made a last ditch effort. “You hear me, Hooker? Done. I’m serious this time.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she tossed back. “Later, Spitz.”

  “Sally?” Austin was waiting patiently near the door, phone in hand. “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, feeling sort of bad. I hadn’t even remembered he was there. “Sorry about all this. I had no idea Hooker was going to bring me another date.”

  “That’s okay,” he said.

  “Thanks for understanding.” Reaching him, I shook my head. “Austin Harris, you are too nice for your own good.”

  Austin was silent at my side, looking deep in thought, and I was scared I’d said something wrong. We’d both already had to suffer an entire two hours of Chaz Neely. That was enough to put anyone in a bad mood.

  As we stepped outside, he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Sally,” he said hesitantly, “there’s…something I want to say…but I don’t want to upset you.”

  So polite, I thought. “Okay, I’m listening.” Whatever it was couldn’t be that bad.

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

  My breath left me in a whoosh.

  “I know it’s sudden,” Austin said, taking my hand. “I know we only just met, but…I also know how I feel. I’ve never met a girl I could talk to so easily. Sally, I can just feel it. You’re the one for me.”

  It took me a beat. My shock was so great I was surprised I hadn’t swallowed my tongue.

  “Austin,” I said, trying to remain calm. The situation required delicacy.

  “Yes, love?”

  Oh, that was it. “Are you crazy?!”

  “But—”

  “No,” I said, taking a step back. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  “But Sally, I love you!”

  His face was so open, he looked so sure. Besides being totally freaked by his confession, I actually felt sorry for the guy. Austin Harris was clearly a wackadoo, but a wackadoo with a heart.

  “No, Austin—” I shook my head and made my voice as gentle as possible. “—You don’t. You hardly know me.”

  “I know how I feel,” he said, tone resolute. “I love you, Sally Spitz, and that’s all there is to it.” He paused to meet my eyes. “Do you…feel anything for me?”

  “Yes, friendship,” I said. “I’d love to call you my friend, Austin, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m sorry.”

  Watching the hope in his expression disappear was like a slap to the face.

  “I get it,” he said, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the pavement, looking anywhere but my face. “I really made an ass out of myself, didn’t I?”

  “No way,” I said. “You’re a nice guy, Austin. There’s someone out there for you. It’s just not me.” I held out my hand. “So…friends?”

  “Friends,” he agreed, and we shook on it. “Are you ready to go?”

  Remembering his safer than safe driving, I thought quickly. “You go on. I think I’m going to stop by Paula’s for a slice. They stay open late whenever there’s a midnight release.”

  “But how will you get home?”

  “I’ll catch a ride.” I shooed him toward his car. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

  “Alright, if you’re sure.” Austin took my hand again and kissed the back. “It was nice meeting you, Sally.”

  “You too,” I said surprised.

  On my way next door to Paula’s Pizzeria, I reviewed the events of the night. Chaz had been a complete bust, but Austin was okay. Why couldn’t I just go for someone sweet like him? I mean, sure, he was a little nuts, telling me he loved me after only one date, but there were worse things. As I watched him still navigating oh so slowly through the near-empty parking lot, though, I knew it would’ve never worked.

  I liked to drive fast, five miles over the speed limit at least, and Austin was a by the rules kind of guy. If I ever got behind the wheel, I was sure he’d have a coronary. And I wasn’t sure I could date someone who preferred Justice League over Rogue and her crew. That right there was the definition of incompatibility.

  Paula met me at the door. “Hey, Sally. Oooh that hair should come with a warning: Large and in charge and too hot to handle. You go girl, never knew you had it in you. What’ll it be?”r />
  “Water and a slice of pepperoni with pineapple, please.” I smiled as she led me to my usual table. “Thanks, Paula.”

  “Sure thing, sweetie.”

  A few moments later, Becks came out with my water and plate, set them down and sat across from me. The first thing he said was “What’s with the hair?”

  “Just trying something different,” I replied. “You like it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s cool. So how was the movie? Was it as mind-blowingly awesome as it looked in the trailer?”

  Figures Becks would be the only one to write off my so-called sex hair.

  “Don’t know.” I popped a piece of pepperoni into my mouth. “It was kind of hard to pay attention.”

  Becks smiled. “Well, this sounds interesting.”

  “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

  “Nope.” He untied his apron and laid it in front of him on the table. “I’m officially off the clock. Spill it, Sal.”

  By the time I was through, Becks was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

  “Chaz Neely?” he said, breathless. “What was Lillian thinking? That guy is such a tool.”

  “Yeah, I know.” In my re-telling, I’d left out the frigid bit. Partly because it was embarrassing and partly because I didn’t think Becks would find it funny. At all. Standing, I asked, “Could you drop me off? I didn’t want to go with Austin, thought it’d be kinda weird.”

  Still grinning, Becks stood as well. “Yeah, like the most awkward car ride ever. He really likes Justice League over the X?”

  I shrugged.

  “The guy is either seriously deluded or straight-up crazy,” he said. “My vote’s for crazy. He really told you he loved you? That’s just ridiculous.”

  “Gosh, Becks,” I said, masking my hurt with sarcasm, “I’m so happy I told you.”

  “Ah, Sal, you know what I meant.”

  “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “Never had any complaints before.”

  I went to stalk past him, but slipped on a wet patch instead, wincing as my ankle rolled. With cat-like reflexes, Becks’s arms shot out to catch me. If he hadn’t been so close, I would’ve definitely faceplanted. Knocking out a few front teeth would’ve been a perfect end to this crapshoot of an evening.

  “You okay?” Becks said.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled into his chest. His arms were locked around my waist, mine resting on his forearms. After such a trying night, his familiar scent, the comfort I found in his nearness almost undid me. I was so tired of surprises. If I had to meet one more blind date, I would literally go insane.

  “Jeez, Sal,” he laughed, resting his chin on my head. “If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask.”

  I slapped his shoulder. “Jerk.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Despite my protests, I stood there, embracing him longer than necessary. It’d been a hard night, and I didn’t even get a chance to really watch the movie. Lucky for me, Becks gave the best hugs on the planet. Even Austin’s kiss, sweet as it was, had nothing on the feel of Becks’s arms around me. It was exactly what I needed to clear my head.

  These surprise dates had to end.

  They just had to. Since demands and pleading hadn’t worked, I’d have to try a different approach. What I needed was a plan, something failsafe, something to get both Mom and especially Hooker off my back. A sure way to end the matchmaking forever. The answer didn’t come until much later, but when it did, the solution seemed so simple, so perfect.

  Now all I had to do was find the perfect guy.

  How hard could that be?

  CHAPTER 4

  “How’s that article coming, Spitz?”

  I mentally counted to ten.

  “Hello,” Priscilla said, rapping her knuckles twice on the table. “Earth to Spitz? It’s October, mid-season for God’s sake. I need an ETA on that sports article like yesterday.”

  Taking a deep breath, I gave up the counting. Numbers wouldn’t numb the pain. Priscilla Updike’s annoying voice was like listening to fingernails on a chalkboard, enough to make my ears bleed and set my teeth on edge.

  Looking up, I forced a smile. “It’s coming along, should be ready by Saturday.”

  “You just make sure it is.” She fluffed her hair which was already over the limit on the fluffiness scale. Blonde, busty and a big fan of Mary Kay, Priscilla was the image that came to mind when most people pictured the Southern bombshell. “And don’t skimp on the word count. Everyone knows they only read our newsletter to check the scores and see highlights. Make sure you include those this time instead of going off on one of your silly human interest slants.”

  The bossy attitude, though, was why I called her Pisszilla—only in my head, of course.

  As Pisszilla moved on to her next victim, I looked down at the list I’d started at the beginning of the period. Journalism was the sole writing class Chariot High offered, and I usually paid extra-close attention. But since our evil editor was the only one talking, I didn’t feel the need. She wouldn’t even notice if I left the room. Now that she was busy biting someone else’s head off (apparently each of the horoscopes last week had ended in gruesome death, a detail Pisszilla was none too happy about), I could turn my mind to more important matters.

  It seemed so obvious. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Last night at 3:42 a.m., when I’d been half-asleep, half-delirious, I’d come up with the perfect solution to my matchmaking blues.

  A fake boyfriend.

  Hooker couldn’t set me up if I was already set up, so to speak. All I needed was someone to play my boyfriend for a while, and I’d be golden. The key to success was finding the right guy.

  On the sheet of paper I had stealthily tucked beneath the crook of my arm—in case someone decided to be a real jerk and snatch it—I’d outlined my criteria under the heading:

  THE IDEAL F.B.F.

  1) Must be able to keep a secret.

  2) Must not be afraid of Hooker.

  3) Must be MALE (no more misunderstandings)

  4) Must be willing to work cheap and agree to a month’s worth of service

  5) Must be able to keep hands to themselves and separate F.B.F duties from reality

  Numbers one, two, three and five were the most important, but four was nonnegotiable. The timeframe of a month would make it more believable, especially to Mom. Then when the guy called it quits, there’d be no question of me dating again. I’d be too heartbroken, too devastated at the loss of my so-called first love. The plan was so freaking perfect. I barely stopped myself from busting out the maniacal laughter as the bell rang. Hooker wasn’t the only scheming mastermind in this school.

  Now, if I could just find someone who met all the requirements, I wouldn’t have to go on another blind date for the rest of my life.

  The thought had me smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt.

  “Spitz.”

  I turned and found Ash Stryker, soccer star and fellow news staffer, staring at me, frowning.

  “Something wrong with your face?”

  Trust Ash to ruin my good mood. Dropping the manic grin, I deadpanned, “No. Something wrong with yours?”

  He shook his head, still looking at me like I was the strangest thing. “Listen, I wanted to give you a message. The team doesn’t appreciate you focusing all your stories on one player. There are ten other guys out there besides your boyfriend. It wouldn’t kill you to quote one of them sometime.”

  “Wait—” I couldn’t believe this. “—you can’t be saying what I think you’re saying. Have you actually read any of my pieces?”

  An eyebrow raise was all I got from number forty-three.

  “Ash, you do know I was the one who gave you your nickname?” I’d christened him The Whip last year, describing his quick dribbling and the sound his foot made as it connected with the ball. That was when he’d been an up-and-coming sophomore. Now, as a junior, The Whip was a starter on var
sity, not quite as good as Becks but definitely talented—and arrogant. “I mean, seriously, The Whip? People didn’t just come up with that on their own.”

  “My mom was calling me that way before you ever wrote your little article.”

  And did I mention cocky as all get out? Sweeping blond hair, lean frame, easy smile. The guy had most girls falling at his feet—lucky for me, I wasn’t most girls.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I said, walking past him and patting his shoulder. “Good talk.”

  “You’re an odd one, Spitz.”

  “That’s what they say.” Stopping in the hall, I turned back around. “And by the way, Becks and I are just friends.”

  Ash grunted and slipped past me, the back of his shiny white and green jersey dissolving into the mass of students on their way to first period. Shrugging, I went to my locker.

  I got about ten steps before some girl I didn’t know grabbed me.

  “You and Becks?” She laughed, looking me up and down. “Most hilarious thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “Huh?” I said, confused.

  As she rejoined her giggling group of friends, another girl (Shelia, Shelly...something like that) came up to me as I reached my locker.

  “Ignore her. She’s just jealous.” She rolled her eyes. “Personally, I knew it all along. Y’all are just the cutest couple I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “Okay...”

  Shelia/Shelly/something-or-other smiled conspiratorially. “He any good?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Well, duh,” she laughed. “Your boy Becks.”

  Oh, I thought, soccer. Finally catching her drift, I said, “Oh yeah, he’s phenomenal.”

  “I’ll just bet he is.” She winked. “Body and face like that, how could he not be, right?”

  I didn’t see what Becks’s face had to do with him being good at sports; but I didn’t want to embarrass her either, so I just nodded. “It should get him into a good college.”

  Her jaw dropped. “They give scholarships for that kind of thing?”

  “Oh, yeah sure,” I said. “Tons of them.”