The Book Boyfriend

Thirteen.

“I need to go.”

“I know.”

“We’re not over?”

“No Beau. We’re not.”

I was being crushed against his chest in seconds, struggling to move a weird choking sound came from me as I tried to talk and he let me go.

“Can I call you my girlfriend?”

The thought made me smile, “Sure thing boyfriend.”

-

Coming home John went straight to the office and I headed home, glad to see Jess. We had dinner with our Nana tonight and I wanted to try and get through everything with Jess before going out. In a sense of déjà vu I walked in and found our dining table covered in candles only this time they were lavender and if thought the vanilla/raspberry combo was toxic, this was on the same scale as a nuclear bomb.

“What are you doing?” The bags were left in the doorway and I headed into the kitchen to open the windows.

“Your stupid spell thing worked, so I’m doing mine again!” She muttered the last few words and we both paused.

“I don’t think it was because of the spell Jess. We went to a party filled with celebrities, if you hadn’t yacked you could be seeing Grayson right now!” Her concentration was completely focused on pouring the ashes into the red organza bag I had used.

“No, he didn’t match anything on my list and he already told me he was only after a quickie.”

“Beau isn’t Brock.” I pointed out, but she shook her head.

“He so his. He is what I imagined Brock to look like. Emotionally insecure, amazingly talented. ROCK STAR! How can you say they’re not alike?”

The more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t deny it. They even had a bad case of the ex.

“The band liked Amelia, they hate me.”

“They don’t know you! Give them time. So sit, tell me about your weekend!” Jess demanded, leaving the candles still burning I could see me having to clean them up again.

“What if I only like him because of Brock?” All my talk about seeing Beau, not the rock star, could have been for nothing if all I could see is a fictional character.

“You don’t. You met him before you knew who he was and when you did, you didn’t care. I heard you talking to him every night, that’s real. Do you even think of Brock when you talk to him?” I shook my head, sometimes I did, but not when we were talking about life. It was when he was on stage that I identified him to Brock the most, the author captured all that perfectly. “Then you’re not comparing them like you would compare a new boyfriend with an old one. I do it all the time. We go out to eat, I judge what they order. He ordered a steak; he orders a salad – what does that mean?”

“You’re special aren’t you?” I teased and she slapped my arm.

“Now spill, tell me about your weekend!”

I held nothing back, if anyone tells me anything – my best friend gets told too. By the time I finished with the flight back home she had opened and closed her mouth a hundred times. I was about to slap her to make sure she was still awake when she got up and ran over to where her stinky spell bag sat on the table.

“Please, please, please work for me!” She yelled at it over and over. “You get this suddenly glamorous life and I’m left working out activities that involve sticking uncooked pasta onto paper! I’m going to say it Bec, I am jealous!”