The Oracle of Dating

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The Oracle of Dating Page 16

by Allison van Diepen


  And when it comes to electricity, Jared’s a freaking power station! Sometimes we’ll be working in the art room and he’ll give me this smoky look, fully aware of what it’s doing to my hormones. Then I’ll lick my lips and see his eyes go wide.

  Anyway. There’s no way I’m going to ask Jared if I’m his girlfriend or not. The Oracle knows that would sound needy. In time, he’ll clarify, and until then, I’ll play it by ear.

  “Jared is definitely your boyfriend,” Sharese says. “You don’t smooch in the hall with someone you’re just seeing.”

  “Did you say smooch?” I have to laugh. “We don’t smooch in the hallway, we just kiss now and then. We’re both not into PDA. That’s so junior high. What about you, Sharese? Are you finally going to do something about Mike P.?”

  Sharese looks dejected. “I’m such a loser. Consider Operation Dairy Freez terminated.”

  “Why give up now?” Ryan asks. “You’ve been talking about this guy for months!”

  “Because I’m living a pipe dream. I don’t even know where that expression comes from—what does a pipe have to do with a dream?”

  We all shrug.

  “I told you—pass him a note with your name and phone number, then take off,” Ryan says.

  “That’s so sixth grade.”

  “Would it be easier if someone did it for you?” I ask.

  “That’s even worse. That’s fifth grade. He’s going to think I’m immature.”

  I shake my head. “If he’s interested, he’s not going to care how you give him your number, just that you do.”

  “And if he doesn’t contact me?”

  “Then it probably means he has a girlfriend,” Ryan answers. “You’ll move on. And you won’t look back and wish you’d done things differently.”

  Just like how I felt when Jared got together with Brooke. I’d wished I’d acted earlier. I hope Sharese doesn’t miss her chance. Even if he doesn’t call her, at least she’ll know. But she’s got to decide this herself.

  “Give him the note,” Viv says, “unless you’re willing to ask him to his face.”

  “I could never ask him to his face!”

  “Ah, no big deal. We all know you never meant to make a move.” Ryan is using classic reverse psychology.

  Sharese perks up. “That’s not true! I meant to make a move. But my stomach feels sick when I even think about it. I could, literally, throw up.”

  “Please don’t,” we say in unison.

  “Maybe I’m old-school,” Sharese admits. “Part of me thinks that he would’ve asked me out, or slipped me a note, if he felt the same way.”

  “Why, because he’s a guy?” Ryan asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not up to the guy anymore,” Viv says.

  I nod. “Women who think like that will get left behind. The proactive ones will find men. Especially considering the male-female ratio in New York City.”

  “You sound like the Oracle of Dating,” Ryan says.

  Little does he know. “Look, Sharese. Mike P. is not the type of guy to ask you out while he’s serving you ice cream. He’s way too shy for that. Plus, guys don’t tend to premeditate like that. Isn’t that right, Ryan?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Sharese straightens. “You’re right. I’m going to do it! Sometimes you have to take a chance.”

  OPERATION DAIRY FREEZ enters its final phase.

  I check my watch—7:35 p.m. “You can go in any time, Sharese. He should be at the cash by now.”

  Amy and I are with her for moral support, which she appears to badly need, because she’s asked us about ten times how she looks.

  Sharese takes a deep breath. “You’re sure I don’t have anything on my face?”

  Amy laughs. “I told you, you look gorgeous!”

  “Absolutely Sharesalicious.”

  “Thanks, guys. Here goes!”

  Sharese gets off the bench, straightens her clothes and heads inside the shop. I look at my watch. This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes; we haven’t seen anyone go inside in the last while, so we know he’s not busy.

  “I’m so glad she’s finally doing this,” Amy says. “I’m sick to death of hearing about this guy.”

  “I hope it works out. He’d be crazy not to go for her.”

  “Oh, he’ll go for her. No guy would pass up a chance like this unless, well, he has a girlfriend. But I peg him for single.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can tell. It’s a gift. What can I say?”

  Sharese steps out of the door, her eyes full of tears.

  We rush up to her. “What happened?”

  “He’s…gone.” Her lips barely move.

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?” Amy asks. “He’s not working today?”

  “He stopped working there last week. They wouldn’t give me a number where I can reach him. I’ve lost my chance!”

  Amy puts an arm around her, guiding her to the bench. “You didn’t necessarily lose your chance. We’ll probably spot him working somewhere else.”

  “Amy’s right,” I say. “You could easily run into him.” But who’s to say he didn’t get a job in Manhattan? Who knows if he even lives in this neighborhood?

  Sharese rubs her eyes, smearing her mascara. “I’m such an idiot. I had months to do something but I was too chicken!”

  Amy gives her a little nudge. “Aw, c’mon, don’t you believe in fate?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Then you know that if it’s meant to be, you’ll cross paths again. If you don’t run into him, that means the relationship wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. Some quiet guys are very possessive, you know.”

  Sharese looks at her, unsure of whether to be comforted. “You think he would have been abusive?”

  “You never know about guys. Sometimes the innocent-looking ones are the worst. I’m just saying. No matter how it works out, it’s for the best.”

  Kudos to Amy—she’s damned good at talking B.S.

  “Maybe you’re right. I should leave it to fate. My mom always says I should put things in God’s hands.”

  I’m not sure we should be bringing God into this, but oh well. I want her to feel better.

  I realize that for Sharese, Mike P. will be a love that was never realized. A what-if that will always haunt her.

  Unless Amy’s right about fate. The jury’s out on that one.

  WHEN I GET HOME, Mom gives me the news. “Tracey called. She’s going out of town this weekend so she won’t be able to meet you for coffee. She’ll be in Connecticut with Scott.”

  I scowl. “I should’ve set his hair on fire when I had the chance!”

  Mom and Erland exchange an uncomfortable glance.

  “You can’t stand him, either, Mom. Admit it.”

  “I’m not his biggest fan. But we have to accept her decision. I am interested, however, in hearing about your new boyfriend.”

  My boyfriend?

  Was that the answer all along? Is it when your mom notices that you’re dating someone that he becomes your boyfriend?

  “You’re just trying to change the topic so I won’t be upset about Tracey and Scott.”

  “I would like to meet this Jared,” the Swede says.

  Mom nods. “Me, too. Should we have him over for dinner next week, Erland?”

  “Yes, indeed we should.”

  Huh? What the hell is going on? “You can’t invite him without asking me!”

  I picture an uncomfortable dinner in which Jared is served up a smorgasbord of questions on philosophy, theology and current events, followed by Mom’s favorite board game, Hallelujah! The exciting new game that combines Bible facts with fun!

  No, thank you.

  “Having him over for dinner is a bit much. I’ll ask him to come to the door so you can meet him sometime. You can see what he looks like.”

  “Tell us about him,” Mom says.

  “He’s a senior. He’s an artist and a musician.”<
br />
  “I hope he is not one of those young men I see on the train with those piercings and big boots,” the Swede says.

  “He’s not a goth or an emo kid, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s going to study visual arts in college.”

  Erland looks thoughtful. “Perhaps he could be an art teacher. Teachers make a good living, you know.”

  “You should tell him that, Erland.”

  “When he comes over for dinner?”

  “When you meet him at the door.”

  Subject: My boyfriend is jealous of my books!

  Dear Oracle,

  I have the most ridiculous problem. My boyfriend is jealous of my favorite book characters!

  I admit, I’m a bookie—you know, like a foodie, but with books. I’m the type of person who talks about book characters like they’re real. My bedroom wall is covered in posters of my favorite book characters (I’ve drawn them myself!). I’m not happy if I’m not reading a book, and I die a thousand deaths with anticipation as I’m waiting for books by my favorite authors to come out. My friends don’t understand why I’m like this, but I’ve got some friends online who feel the same way. Honestly, I love my books so much that I would do anything to make the characters real!

  My boyfriend gets annoyed when I go on about my favorite characters, but most of the time he puts up with it. Then yesterday, all that changed. He saw that I have a MySpace account under the name Cassandra, and that I’ve been chatting with a few guys who have Alejandro accounts. (Alejandro is Cassandra’s vampire lover in the book Eternity—hottest couple EVER!) Now, it’s true, I was chatting with these guys in a pretty romantic way, but it was just role-playing. Well, my boyfriend freaked out. He called it cheating! He wants me to close down the account and stop chatting with my Alejandros.

  My boyfriend is being such a control freak. What can I do to get him to chill out?

  Help me!

  Cassandra

  I forward the e-mail to Jared. It’s always good to have a second opinion, and a male perspective doesn’t hurt, either.

  A few minutes later, he calls me. Before I can even say hi, he says, “That girl’s a nut job.”

  “I know a few people who like role-playing. I hear it’s fun.”

  “This is what you’d call emotional infidelity, Oracle. He should dump her on her ass.”

  I smile to myself. Emotional infidelity isn’t a term you’d expect from a teenage guy. But then, I use it fairly often, and he’s obviously been reading my Web site for a while. “Yeah, it’s crazy that she thinks he shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

  “Let me reply to this one,” Jared says.

  “No way. You’re a little too, er, blunt for this business.”

  “I would just tell her the truth—that she should get her nose out of a book and into real life, and look for a guy in real life who turns her on. Obviously the guy she’s dating right now isn’t doing it for her.”

  “I don’t think it means she’s not into her boyfriend. It’s just that she also likes to fantasize about other guys.”

  “Right, guys who aren’t real. Look, she hasn’t been married to the guy for twenty years or anything. She should be fantasizing about her boyfriend. And if she isn’t, there’s a problem.”

  “You have a point there.”

  “Think about it. Who do you fantasize about, Kayla? No wait, don’t answer that.”

  “Why not? I fantasize about you.”

  “Yeah, me, too. About you, I mean.”

  Dear Cassandra,

  There is nothing wrong with being swept into the world of a book and being mesmerized by its characters. But if your obsession with these characters is negatively affecting your personal relationships and preventing you from being present in your own life, then there is a problem.

  I don’t think anyone would blame your boyfriend for feeling the way he does. Having “pretty romantic” conversations with other guys, whether it involves role-playing or not, would make most boyfriends uncomfortable. My guess is that his freak-out was not just about that one issue. I think it stemmed from knowing that these characters play such a central role in your life. The online role-playing might’ve been the last straw.

  It’s time to put some distance between you and the characters you love. You don’t want to look back on your life and see that it was spent in a dreamworld. Make your real life more interesting so that you won’t want to trade it for a fictional one. You can do it!

  Sincerely,

  The Oracle

  THE NEXT DAY Gerstad hands back our projects. My hands quiver as I open the cover. Jared is looking over my shoulder.

  A-.

  I squeal and give Jared a hug. I can’t believe Gerstad was so generous! Maybe she realized it was the best I could do considering I have no artistic talent.

  She gives Jared back his project. He opens the cover, looks in and nods. I’m not quick enough to glimpse the grade.

  “What’d you get?”

  “I did well.”

  “Are you going to show me or not?”

  “If you want.” He shows me that it’s an A+.

  “Awesome! You deserve it. If you’d gotten any less than that, I would’ve staged a protest.”

  I can hardly wait until after school when we’re going for coffee. When the bell rings at the end of class, Jared takes a note out of his bag. “I wrote something for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see. Just don’t get caught reading it in class. See you out front at three-fifteen.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I give him a kiss and hurry to my next class. As I sit there, the note is burning a hole in my pocket. And yet I can’t take it out. Not only did Jared warn me, but Mr. Werner is notorious for confiscating notes and reading them out loud.

  So I ask for the bathroom pass and once there, I open the note, which is covered with Jared’s artful doodles.

  Dear Kayla,

  It’s 2:00 a.m. and I should be asleep, but I keep thinking about you. I played back your messages just to hear your voice. Your voice is warm and husky and downright sexy. I remember everything you’ve whispered in my ear.

  Every time I kissed you, every time I touched you, is another event I replay over and over in my mind. Sometimes, when your warm lips touch mine in the hallway, I picture myself grabbing you and pulling you into some deserted broom closet. From there, my imagination runs wild. I’m pressing you against a wall. Your hands tangle in my hair. Your eyes are closed and your lips are full and sweet. I’m amazed at how passionate you are, Kayla. The first time we kissed I felt like I was scorched. And since then all I can think about is getting close to you again…

  The note is practically going up in flames in my trembling hands. My body is going into overdrive and I’m standing in the stinking bathroom!

  Wait a minute. Does he expect…? What does he expect?

  A wave of fear chases away some of my excitement. Does he think that because I’m so passionate and I call myself a dating expert that I’m also a sexpert?

  I’m a minister’s daughter, for God’s sake! He doesn’t think… Does he think I’m not a virgin?

  Is he not a virgin?

  My mind is spinning out of control.

  I stuff the note into my pocket and go back to class. I can’t pay attention to the lesson because I’m afraid Jared thinks I’m some sort of sex bomb. I mean, I’m sure I will be someday, but not now.

  It’s my fault. I admitted to him last night that I fantasize about him. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to close the deal!

  Has Jared already filled his bedroom with candles and rose petals? Has he already visited the drug store?

  No, no, no! This is going too fast! I need to talk to him before it’s too late.

  WHEN I WALK OUT THE front doors, he’s waiting for me. “So?” He reaches out to grab my hips and drag me close to him. “Did you like the note?”

  “Uh…” I take his hand. “Let’s walk.” />
  We head toward the subway station. It’s garbage day and the truck hasn’t come around yet. I’m trying not to breathe in.

  “Easy.” He gives my hand a tug so I’ll slow down. “Kayla, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I thought you’d like it.”

  “I did. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  I stop walking and turn to him. “I don’t want you to have expectations…in that area. Girls call the Oracle all the time wishing they hadn’t done it. I don’t want to make that mistake.”

  Jared stares at me. My heart drops. I wonder if this is it. He’s going to dump me on the spot.

  Then his lips twitch, giving way to a grin. “I knew I should have put a disclaimer.”

  “What?

  “The note is a fantasy, that’s all. I know you’re a virgin. How far we go is up to you.”

  I sigh with relief. “I’m so glad you said that. The truth is, I loved the note. It really turned me on. But I didn’t want you to think, you know, that I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “If I were looking for that sort of girlfriend, I wouldn’t be with you. That would be stupid.”

  Girlfriend? Am I his girlfriend?

  Yes!

  He squeezes my hand. “You can trust me.”

  Jared is the most wonderful guy ever.

  Totally relaxed now, we start walking again. A thought occurs to me. “Wait a minute—why’d you assume I was a virgin?”

  Jared smiles and shakes his head.

  AN HOUR LATER, I’m stirring my soy mocha-frappa-whatever, enjoying its sweet taste, but paying far more attention to Jared’s hand on my thigh.

  “How’s business?” he asks.

  “The Web site’s getting more than a hundred hits a day. I’m hoping that by the New Year, I won’t have to work at Eddie’s anymore.”

 

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