“Reese!”
I sigh heavily and look back up Justin’s driveway at Sean who’s waving his hand to get my attention. Stopping, I drop my skateboard to the ground and wait for him to catch up with me.
“Hey,” he says. The greeting is unnecessary but I repeat it back to him all the same, looking down at my board and rocking it with my feet when I do, “I’m really sorry about bringing up Laney. I tried really hard to keep it under wraps, but you saw how well that worked,” he gives me a lopsided smile and then continues, “He had the biggest crush on her before you, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. She’s real shy—blushed a lot when she came to talk to me.”
I nod, and shrug my shoulders indifferently, “Yeah, I get it. You don’t have to apologize to me every second you have a chance. It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” I frown, “I just get jealous easy, you know? I’m afraid he’ll get bored of me and dump me.”
Sean rubs the back of his neck and looks down, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he does so.
“You don’t understand. I do have to apologize. I told you he’d leave you, I made that fear. I’m really sorry about it. I don’t want you worrying about that all of the time.” He explains and then kneels down to set his board on the ground beside mine. When he stands up he’s fidgeting with the notebook that has all of the lyrics the boys came up with this morning. I glance back up at the garage where Justin is leaning against the frame of the open garage entry watching Sean and I. There is a glint of curiosity and I can tell that I’m not the only one who gets easily jealous.
“It’s okay Sean, I promise. Just stop apologizing all of the time. I don’t want you worrying about it either.” I tell him, my eyes tearing away from Justin to look back at Sean.
“Okay,” he mumbles.
“Okay,” I repeat and give him a small smile before stepping on my skateboard and pushing away. Great, I got that taken care of. Now, I must find out the details of complicated relationship number two: Alex and Stephanie.
~*~
Not seeing any cars in Stephanie’s driveway, I almost skip going to Stephanie’s but figure I’ll give it a try anyway. Standing on her porch, I bang my fist rapidly against the pale yellow door and don’t stop until someone pulls it open—and I’m glad it’s Stephanie.
She looks at me, puzzled. She’s still in her pajamas, which are childish despite her change in style. Her hair is loose with no braids and her feet clad in light pink slippers.
“Um, hi?” she greets me, looking wary and half sleepy even though it’s eleven thirty in the morning.
Unable to contain it, I bounce up in down the way she usually does and get this ridiculous smile on my face.
“You owe me an explanation!” I say giddily, peeking over her shoulder “Is anyone home?”
She raises an eyebrow. Gosh, it’s like we’ve switched roles or something. It’s freaking me out, especially when she tells me that nobody is home but her and cautiously pulls the door open a little wider to let me in.
“I’m tired,” she tells me after closing the door and rubbing her eyes, “Exams are next week and I’ve been studying nonstop.”
I nod my head, agreeing with her statement, but won’t let her get me off topic and smile broadly when I say one word, “Alex.”
Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush instantly. She’s almost unable to hold down a smile so she turns away from me and walks to the kitchen. I follow her and lean against the white countertops as she pulls a glass from a cabinet and pours orange juice in it. I’ve been in her house before, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from darting around the kitchen while I wait for her. Her mom has this thing for flowers. From floral wallpaper to washcloths—I’m surrounded.
“Stephanie,” I taunt when she does nothing but sip from her orange juice glass and smile coyly. Her smile only gets bigger. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?” I ask, leaning forward, to the point where I am inches from her and my arms are extended behind me clutching the counter so I don’t fall on my face. She shrugs and bites her lip, trying to stop something. A squeal perhaps?
“What you said about me being so used to people being rude to me,” she begins and I nod encouragingly, “You were right. Alex came to talk to me Wednesday after the show and he was genuinely nice and I thought, maybe, we could try going out again.” She shrugs, “He’s not your cocky, self-absorbed Justin who knows how to charm a girl, but I think he’s so much better.”
Surprised that I’m slightly offended by the Justin comparison, I clear my throat and swallow down the urge to slap her. Then again, she is right and I know it. I just don’t like it when other people say it. Only I’m allowed to bash Justin.
Remembering I didn’t come here for me, I lean back against the counter and ask her more about Alex.
“So, that’s it then? You guys are together now, like a couple?”
She bites her lip and shrugs, placing her glass in the sink with a frown.
“I don’t know,” she answers, “we’re going out tomorrow afternoon. It’s just casual dating for right now. I don’t know if it’s a serious thing yet.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head at her denseness.
“Stephanie,” I start, holding back a small giggle, “he’s absolutely smitten. You should have heard him today talking about writing a love song because he thought you might like it.”
Her eyes widen, smile stretching across her face. And that’s when the crazy comes out. She begins jumping up and down squealing and laughing. Then, when she’s calm, she begins rambling about how amazing it would be to have the Heartbreakers write a song for her, that her life would be complete. I swear, I banged my head against her refrigerator so many times I’m surprised it’s not red.
“It’s official. Alex and I are getting married,” she tells me whilst twirling around the kitchen clutching her heart. My eyes bug out of my skull and I reach out to stop her spinning.
“Don’t tell him that.” I order, “You’ll scare him off!”
She giggles foolishly and sighs, “I won’t tell him, I swear, but I’ll be planning our wedding,” she winks.
Alex has no idea what he’s getting himself into.
~*~
Sunday I crammed for my exams. The last three days of school are filled entirely with end of the year tests. With school ending on a Wednesday, a gig night, the Heartbreakers decided to have a last day of school themed performance and while that is exciting I’m stressed out. All the lyrics for songs I hardly know are swimming in my head along with algebra ll formulas, history dates, chemical bonds, and the stress of writing an in class essay for literature with Justin looking all distracting sitting right next to me. Can someone just put me out of my misery now?
While my whole weekend revolved around books and study guides, I also had to deal with a moody A.J. who was waiting for a phone call from the grocery store he was interviewed to work at last week. He was annoying nervous he didn’t get the job and kept venting to me while I was reviewing my Spanish notes. I eventually got so frustrated I beat him with a couch cushion and went upstairs to study instead. He got a call in the evening saying her got the job anyway. He was worried about nothing.
Now, here I am sitting in my first class with a test packet in front of me. I’m having one of those moments where I wished I would have studied a lot more even though I started two weeks ago. How are we supposed to remember everything we learned from the entire school year? If you ask me, it’s too much.
I’m scribbling out absentminded answers with one hand and fisting through my hair with the other. The questions are tricky and I can already smell failure. It’s not that I’m a bad student; I’m a great one actually. It’s just that some teachers are purposefully out to get you with trick questions and questions that could have more than one answer.
If I was the cheating type, trust me I would be cheating right now. Unfortunately, I have conscious.
My teacher, Mr. Wells, announces we have five minutes left and that’s when I really begin to go nuts. It’s like everything is in slow motion. Panicking, I realize I still have two pages left of my test. I begin cursing my teacher for such a ridiculously long test and begin writing down absolute nonsense for answers. Even if I don’t know the answer to a question about the Emancipation Proclamation I think of something to write down. You can’t say I didn’t try, right?
I jump when the bell rings and regretfully hand in my not-so-great final history test. At least it’s over.
Justin, surprisingly, meets me at my locker in between classes. We have a longer break between exams and I couldn’t be happier for it because I really need to vent.
“Hey,” he smiles, pulling me into his side and planting a swift kiss on my temple, “someone looks like she could punch a wall.”
I’m still facing my locker and don’t bother to turn to him, but smile nonetheless.
“Yeah, Mr. Wells needs a good slap in the face for what he just pulled in there with that exam,” I grumble, giving Justin a side-glance to see he’s smiling amusedly, “but how was your chem. exam?’
“It was so easy Austin could have passed it—and he doesn’t even know what’s going on half the time.” Justin answers with a grin. I really hate him for having had such an easy time while I was struggling for answers the whole time I was testing.
“Lucky you,” I say lowly.
“Oh, c’mon,” Justin chuckles, resting his chin on my shoulder while I take a sip from the coffee I had stuck in my locker this morning, “you take your chemistry test, have an early lunch, write that literature essay, and we go home for the day. The beauty of exams is we don’t have classes all day. We just take three one hour and twenty minute tests for the last couple days and then we’re done.”
Rolling my eyes I answer, “Easy for you to say,” and slam my locker door shut, glancing up at the clock down the hallway, “I’ve got to go.”
Justin wraps his arms around my waist, not moving his chin from my shoulder and says, “Or we could cut class.”
I slap his arm and gasp at him.
“These are exams, Justin.”
“I know, I was just kidding.” He laughs, kissing my cheek afterward.
“Alright then, let me go. I’ve got a test to take and you’ve distracted me long enough.” I scold him, trying to loosen his arms from where they rest atop my hip bones.
He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, shaking his head.
Ugh! Really, Justin? You think you’re being cute, but in reality I just want to knock you out. I have an exam to get to!
“Honestly, we both know how I feel about PDA,” I try again while tugging at his arms in a vain attempt to loosen myself from his hold. This is not the time. I now have only three minutes to get to class. If he wanted to be all cute and coupley he could have done that over the weekend. It’s his own fault he decided to talk about Laney instead of cuddle me.
He hums, placing a chaste kiss on my neck before pulling away entirely, leaving me to straighten my clothes and point an accusing finger at him.
“Bit bipolar, are we?” he winks and threads his fingers with mine to lead me to my next class.
“What?” I gasp, my eyes narrowing at the assumption. He only chuckles in response. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively, squeezing his hand until I feel his knuckles rubbing together under my hand.
“Yikes!” he hisses, dropping my hand and shaking the pain away, “And abusive,” he adds to his previous sentence.
I give him a warning look.
“I’m not bipolar,” I say firmly and then glance down at his hand, “or abusive!”
He scoffs, “Look, all I’m saying is that one second you hate me for not being coupley enough and the next second you’re beating me off you when I try,” he shrugs.
I groan in annoyance and poke my elbow into his side.
“Justin, it’s just that I like to keep my private life private, okay? It never used to be a problem until I joined the band. Now, everyone is waiting for me to mess up to ring in some juicy gossip. I’m just being careful. Pressure ruins relationships, right?” I explain to him and he nods understandingly. Still, I know he’s never had a problem with being open, so it’s going to take a lot to be more discreet about things. He’s going to struggle with this. Usually, he’d use our relationship as an advantage to get more fans coming to the gigs on Wednesday. Now that he knows what I want, though, he’s going to have to tone it down.
Truth is, I hate it when other people’s relationships are flaunted around. It makes the couple seem fake. I want a genuine, under the radar relationship. Anything else would feel forced and advertised. Like: “Hey look, I have a boyfriend, aren’t I cool?” It’s pathetic. I want something real, something that will last.
“I get it,” he tells me when we stop in front of my chemistry classroom, “but it won’t stop me from kissing you when I want,” he says cheekily and leans down to capture my lips with his own. The warning bell rings and I hum as I pull away, rolling my eyes in the process.
“See you later,” he sings, wiggling his eyebrows and jogging away to catch his class on time. I wave, shaking my head at him and turning to enter my classroom for the next exam.
~*~
I’m actually forced to sit in the cafeteria with the boys during lunch. Mrs. Boots isn’t even at school today and her door is shut and locked tightly. I reluctantly drop my book bag beside Austin’s and set my lunch down next to his on the table before taking my seat.
Awesome. I love being surrounded by loud, crazy teenagers—not.
“Surprise, surprise, Strawberry Shortcake has joined us for lunch today.” Alex jokes, popping a grape into his mouth afterward and leaning over his tray. The others agree, Austin even giggling a little. I personally don’t see what’s so funny.
Justin is seated across from me and watches me with a small smile as I snap open my water bottle and take a sip from it. Then, he turns back to his pizza. The table becomes quiet except for Austin and Kris’ low chit-chat. My eyes dart from person to person warily. Something’s not right here. Sean is scratching his neck softly, looking around nervously. He’s shaking the table as he bounces his knees jerkingly.
“Sean?” I ask, and his head whips over, the table no longer shaking. “Are you okay?” I question and he shrugs, swallowing thickly.
“Laney is coming to sit with us today.” He announces shortly after clearing his throat. My eyes instantly shoot back to look at Justin. He inhales suddenly and becomes very interested in the pepperoni on his pizza. Fantastic.
“Oh,” I nod, “well I can’t wait to meet her.”
The atmosphere around our table is heavy, tense. Now that I know about Laney I can’t really get this uncomfortable knot in my stomach to go away. I feel kind of sick, like I can predict how this lunch date is going to go. Something is going to go wrong and it’s probably going to be my fault.
Feeling some of the boys’ eyes on me, I pretend not to notice. Instead, I take a bite of my sandwich and chew carefully. I’m not going to overreact over something so silly, I decide. She’s Sean’s date, after all. She has nothing to do with me and Justin.
All of a sudden a tall, dark-haired girl is standing at Sean’s side with a lunch tray in hand and a shy smile on her lips. I blink multiple times as I take in her appearance. She’s pretty, really pretty. She’s a lot taller than me with black hair that curls down past her shoulders. Her eyes are striking: large and intensely blue. I’m jealous of how perfect she looks and how serene she is. She plays the cute card well. Standing next to her I would seem rude, obnoxious, and tom-boyish. We’re complete opposites.
“Guys, this is Laney.” Sean introduces her after standing up and placing a hand on the small of her back. Her cheeks flush a soft rosy color and she looks down at her tray, hiding her blue eyes. We all wave at her and mumble hellos and she bites her lip in obvious embarrassment. After clearing his throat, Sean continues, “Laney, this is Justin, Alex, Kris, Austin, and Reese.” She looks up and smiles at us and then Sean motions her to take a seat. The seat right next to me.
Throughout the rest of lunch I’m gripping my knee under the table painfully. The girl fails to have any flaws. Her voice is soft and pure. She’s polite. She doesn’t cuss. Her laugh is angelic. She has straight teeth. She compliments my singing. The boys absolutely adore her. She has great taste in music. The girl is everything I’m not. The problem is I can’t hate her. She’s too sweet to hate. I want to hate her because she seems flawless, but at the same time she’s genuinely nice and I respect that.
Laney started out quiet, but Sean slowly coaxed her into talking more. After a while, she began to ignore the guys and just started talking to me. She even invited me to hang out with her after the gig on Wednesday, giggling about how I need girl time. I can already see what she’s picturing, painting each other’s nails and talking about our boyfriends. Should I have mentioned I hate stereotypical girl stuff? Well, I didn’t. Instead, to prove that I can tolerate another girl hanging around us, I accepted. Won’t my mother be proud?
I chose to block out the guys when talking to Laney. I didn’t want to see them drooling over her, especially not Justin. Instead, I had made as much eye contact as possible, only looking away from her to look at my lunch tray. I also didn’t want to see their surprise that I was actually talking to her. Yes, I can play nice. She’s not that bad. Heck, I’m even surprising myself.
I’m glad when lunch is finally over and I can just get away from her. I need time to adjust to hanging out with more of the female species. I’m used to hanging around with guys. You know, rough hands, crude humor, generally smell like the gym locker room. The only other times I’ve hung out with other girls are with my sister and Stephanie. I’m not used to having to hang out with a female who’s all girly and sweet. It’s weird. I feel like I can’t be sarcastic, like I have to act perfect too. Maybe this is a good thing, but I can’t be sure yet. All I know is that I’ll be seeing a lot more of Laney Stewart.