Just a Boyfriend Page 8

  “I need to borrow a shirt,” I told Deja.

  “Occasion, location, people attending.”

  Trying not to sigh since I needed her help, I said, “A blind/double date, movie theater and a restaurant, I don’t know which one, and it will be this girl Bethany I know from class, and two guys from the football team.”

  She stopped stirring the food in the pan and stared at me. “What do we say about football players?”

  Molly piped up from the other room. “Football players are just for fun, not for boyfriends!”

  “That’s right.” Deja nodded in agreement. “They’re not relationship material. You take them to the club for fun and then you leave them there. This is the problem with most athletes—no guy spends time getting six-pack abs to date just one girl.”

  Even I had to concede that she was a little bit right. I liked an athletic build and a broad, well-defined chest. I still had very fond and pleasant memories of Bash’s. But it could mean trouble. I was a case in point.

  “Speaking of men who can’t date one girl at a time, did I tell you I caught Fisher cheating on me?” Deja poked violently at her stir-fry with a spatula.

  “Already?” At the look on her face, I shifted gears. “I mean, oh no. That’s terrible.” Like we all hadn’t seen that coming. Even Ximena knew it was doomed to failure. Fisher had quite the reputation. “Did you beat him up?”

  “I considered it, but I just broke up with him instead.”

  Good. “I’m sorry that you guys broke up.” It seemed like the appropriate thing to say.

  Molly had wandered into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. “I’m not sorry. Fisher was the worst. I think we should throw you a party to celebrate.” When she reached into Deja’s pan, Deja smacked Molly’s hand with the spatula.

  “Don’t worry,” I told Deja while Molly gave up and went through the fridge instead. “There are plenty of Fishers in the sea.”

  “Men. Can’t live with them,” Molly announced, having settled on some slices of bologna as her snack.

  I waited for her to keep talking. “And?”

  “Nothing. That was the end of my thought.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Molly had been in a serious relationship with the same guy since she was twelve. They planned on getting married. He was in college in California, and I’d met him a couple of times over long weekends when he’d come up to visit Molly.

  I wondered if Ximena was dating anyone. I should ask her the next time I saw her. Which might be weeks from now.

  Deja turned off the heat and set the pan to one side. “Come on, let’s go find you something to wear.”

  I followed her into her room and sat on her clean, made bed. Molly’s half of the room looked like the city had claimed it as a new dumping zone.

  Deja went through her clothes one by one, considering each before moving on. “So is this just dinner and a movie, or is it a date date?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Usually where your hands and mouths end up,” she said with a wink.

  “It’s not a hang. It is, like, officially a date, I think.”

  “A date on a school night. You know that’s serious. Who are you going out with again?”

  I deliberately hadn’t mentioned any names because Deja had a brain with its own personal filing cabinet where she kept dossiers on every man on campus. “I don’t know my date’s name.”

  “And the other guy?”

  She also knew when other people were lying. It made it difficult for her flavor of the week to cheat on her, but they kept trying. “Bash.”

  Deja stopped, turning slowly on her heel to stare at me. “Your Bash? Your ex, Bash?”

  Of course. It wasn’t bad enough that she had probably already gathered intel about exactly what kind of date he’d be and how good of a kisser he was, but she also remembered that night two years ago when we were at our first away game and I’d been really missing him and had broken down and told her most of the story.

  Frankly, I’d been hoping she’d forgotten.

  No such luck.

  “Yes, that Bash. We’re trying to be friends now.”

  “But dating your ex’s friend . . . that’s just ex adjacent. More of the same.”

  “Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe not. I don’t even know who it is.”

  She gave me a superior look. “You know my stance when it comes to exes.”

  I did. There was no forgiveness and no forgetting, and striking an ex out of her life would often mean his social group as well.

  She was going to run out of people to date really soon.

  “Hanging out with your ex is like failing a test you had all the answers to,” she informed me as she pulled out a black blouse. It had slightly puffy sleeves and gathered in right under the chest. It was adorable. “But if you’re going to put yourself in the line of fire, you might as well have the right uniform. Try it on.”

  I yanked off my T-shirt and slid on the blouse. The material was soft and warm at the same time, and there was a delicate embroidery around the neckline. It was perfect. “I’m not going to war.”

  “That’s not how I remember it. Didn’t you tell him you loved him first?”

  “So?”

  “You never pull that trigger until you’ve been fired upon!”

  Fisher had been a World War II buff and it was the only explanation for all the fighting imagery. Or else she was really mad at him for cheating on her and was considering some unsavory methods of dealing with said anger.

  Problem was, I didn’t hate Bash. He wasn’t a jerk or a liar. He hadn’t cheated on me. He was someone who had once made my life feel like an actual fairy tale.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” I told her. “Bash and I are totally over. Not only has that ship sailed, it sank and is sitting on the bottom of the ocean. And eighty-five years from now, somebody in Hollywood is going to make a movie about the wreckage.”

  “As long as there’s no feelings. Especially of the tingly kind.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the tingly feels were still in effect when I was around Bash. Even though I tried my hardest to ignore them.

  Fortunately, she didn’t push me and instead asked, “Do you need help with your makeup?”

  “I’m good.” Deja’s makeover would consist of fake eyelashes and enough contouring to make me look about twenty pounds thinner, but I didn’t feel like it. There was a time and place for serious killer makeup, and then there were times when you wanted to be able to blink and touch your own face if you felt like it.

  I thanked her for the loan and was about to leave when she stopped me. “Are you sure you don’t have an ulterior motive for tonight? Hanging out with Bash again?”

  My heart started beating so hard. If I’d been strapped to a lie detector machine, I would have failed. And considering Deja was basically the human version of it, I settled on a facsimile of the truth. “I don’t want there to be a reason other than we’re trying to be friends.”

  She studied me carefully and then nodded once, as if dismissing me. Taking the win, I ran into our shared bathroom and started fixing my hair and my face.

  But the silence was giving me too much time to consider what Deja had asked. Did I want something more from Bash than friendship? I’d have to be a real glutton for punishment to try and go down that road again. He’d made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in me like that. Because touching my not-flat stomach and curvy hips had sent him running for the hills.

  Or was it that I’d told him I’d loved him? When I thought about that night, it was always easier to assume that I’d repulsed him. Because that was conceivably something I could change. One of my resolutions this year had been to lose ten pounds. I only had sixteen more to go.

  But if he didn’t love me? If I’d scared him off? If he’d run away because he’d never felt that way about me?

  There was nothing I could do about that.

&
nbsp; It was a really depressing thought.

  And it wasn’t even like I could give it the old college try and flirt my way back into Bash’s heart. Our relationship happened because he thought it was cute I was committing a felony. The last boy I tried to flirt with before him was back in kindergarten, and I peed on the jungle gym just to impress him.

  My flirting skills had not improved much since then.

  I considered canceling. Even pulled my phone out of my pocket. And I might have done it had our doorbell not rang.

  Bash. Mr. Ten Minutes Early Is Late.

  How had I forgotten his ridiculous punctuality? Deja let him in, and I heard their voices as they introduced themselves.

  I hurried up and put on the last of my lip gloss. I tugged on a pair of black boots and zipped up the sides. In the living room I found Bash charming my two roommates. Molly had even paused the game, and they were both looking at him like he had multiple women’s volleyball national championships in his pockets. I couldn’t blame them. He was looking ridiculously hot.

  I grabbed my coat. “Hey. You ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” Was it my imagination, or had his eyes lit up when he saw me?

  I told my roommates I’d see them later, and on my way out I heard Deja say, “Girl, don’t fall on any grenades tonight.”

  Bash gave me a confused look, but I got the gist of what she was saying.

  “Grenades?” he repeated.

  I just shook my head as if I hadn’t understood her, either. I wasn’t about to tell him what was going on.

  It was weird to be walking alongside him but not able to touch him. Why did he have to smell so amazing and be so pretty?

  Life was seriously unfair, and the universe was stupid.

  “How’s your healthy eating resolution going?” he asked.

  Was he as uncomfortable as I was? That was a random question. “I’ve only had one piece of cake today, so I’d say it’s going okay.”

  “One piece?” He said it like he didn’t believe me.

  He had good reason not to. “If you don’t cut the cake, it’s still technically just one piece, so I’ve only had one piece of cake today.”

  “I don’t think you can count it as a resolution if you never actually keep it.”

  “No,” I protested. “I’m resolved to do it. That doesn’t mean that I will, just that I want to. I’ve decided that, like with gifts, the thought should count.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

  “I don’t need to be mocked for my culinary choices.”

  “Hey, no mocking from me!” He held both his hands up, like he was surrendering. “I, too, had one slice of pizza today and one brownie.”

  How could he always make me laugh even when I was ready to get all indignant on him?

  We reached a four-door sedan I didn’t recognize. “Did you borrow it?” I asked.

  “Yeah. From one of my teammates.”

  “We can take my car, if you want.” I regretted the words the moment I said them. I had way too many memories of driving around with Bash in that car.

  Of making out with him in the back seat of that car.

  The look on his face made me wonder if he was remembering the same thing. “No, it’s okay. I’ll drive.”

  I put my hand on the door, and Bash called out, “Wait!” He ran around to my side and opened the door for me, bowing as he did so. “My lady.”

  Shaking my head, I got in and let him close the door behind me. A few seconds later he got in on the driver’s side. He started the car up and let the engine run to warm up the inside of the car. It was seriously cold outside.

  He asked, “Are we still on for our post-game recap tomorrow night?”

  I recalled him mentioning something about it, but I’d thought he’d been joking. Because, no. The word was no. It was such an easy word to say. N. O. No. I didn’t even have to open my mouth all the way to make the correct sounds.

  And I was trying to say it. It probably would have been good for his ego to be told no every once in a while. In a way, I was helping him prepare for real life if I refused him.

  Then he had to go and add on, “You know, so we can compare notes and see which one of us did the best job of setting up the other.”

  Oh, it was so on. Bethany had to be better than whomever Bash had chosen. “Yeah. I’m totally going to win. Speaking of, you never did tell me who I’m going out with.”

  If he said it was Dalton Johnson, I was going to punch him in the throat.

  “His name is Todd Woodby. He can be a little goofy, but he’s basically a good guy. You might like him.”

  “I might like him?” I repeated. That sounded bad. Nobody knew me as well as Bash had. How could he not know whether or not I’d like a specific guy? “Is this where you tell me he’s okay and/or average as a person? It’s not really a ringing endorsement.”

  Bash put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. “I don’t know what kind of guys you like.”

  You. I like guys like you.

  Even though I didn’t speak, Bash apparently felt the need to keep defending himself as he pulled out onto the road that went toward the main campus. “For all you know, he might be the love of your life, and when you look back on tonight, you’ll be like, ‘I was the luckiest duck, and it’s all thanks to my excellent friend Bash.’”

  “Quack, quack,” I told him, my eyebrows furrowed.

  “I didn’t know you could quack sarcastically.”

  “Have you not been paying attention?” I asked him. “I do everything sarcastically.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen you do lots of things with a totally open and sincere heart. I used to love that about you.”

  I was so glad that his gaze was focused on the road and he couldn’t see my reaction, because there was no way I could have hidden the tears that sprang up in my eyes, how I couldn’t quite calm down my breathing. My throat felt thick and my heart too heavy for my body.

  Bash always could see me. The real me.

  Grenades. Exploding grenades everywhere.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BASH

  We arrived at the movie theater not long after I picked Ember up. I’d told Bethany and Woodby to meet us there, and as we pulled into the parking lot, I realized that it had never occurred to me to tell Ember the same thing. I probably should have; it would have made the most sense and taken less time. But from the beginning I had planned on going over and picking her up.

  Even though she wasn’t my date.

  And she had her own car and could have easily driven herself.

  What kind of mixed-up signals was I sending out?

  Crazy signals that Ember was obviously picking up on because she had started acting strangely. Things had seemed to be going good at first, and then, I don’t know. Something shifted. I wanted to ask her what had happened but figured it was better not to.

  For the sake of the friendship and all.

  We parked the car and walked in silence to the front of the theater, where Woodby was waiting for us.

  He came over to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Todd. You must be Ember.”

  She nodded and smiled at him. “I am. Nice to meet you.”

  Then he held out his arms and hugged her hello. And in a moment of blinding jealousy, I almost decked him on the spot.

  “Wow,” Woodby said, finally stepping back. Which was good, because I was about to pry them apart. “Bash said you were beautiful. He obviously underpromised and overdelivered.”

  It was so smarmy and stupid. Was Ember going to fall for this line?

  She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at me. And there was something in her expression, something so bewildered and vulnerable that it made me catch my breath.

  Then she faced Woodby again. “That’s so nice. Thank you. We should go in.”

  The snow had started to fall again, and he agreed. He ran over to open the door for both of us. As she brushed past me, maki
ng all of my nerve endings riot with sensation, she murmured, “Are you kidding me with this guy? I am so going to win.”

  I tried to hide my smirk. I should have known she wouldn’t have been taken in by such a cheesy line.

  She turned back to smile mischievously at me, and I almost tripped over my own feet. With the snow coming down, the light from the theater backlighting her, she looked stunning. I’d had the same reaction when I saw her in her apartment just a few minutes ago. I’d forgotten how to breathe.

  And it wasn’t because she was somehow more beautiful than normal. She did look nice, and I could tell she’d made an effort, but that wasn’t it. It was the same reaction I had every time I saw her. Like being struck by lightning.

  At first I thought it was the shock of being around her again or that in our time apart I’d somehow forgotten how gorgeous she was and how she made my heart feel like if it skipped any more beats I’d wind up in an emergency room. But since it kept happening, I was starting to accept that this was just how I was going to feel every time I saw her.

  Like I’d been headbutted in the stomach.

  I collected myself and followed them into the lobby. Bethany was waiting inside, and her face lit up when she saw us. Ember introduced her to Woodby, and then Bethany made her way over to me.

  “Hey,” I said. “You made it.”

  “I did! I had my roommate drop me off.” Then she stood up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  My gut reaction was to feel . . . guilt. Like I had done something wrong in front of Ember.