by Rachel Kiss
My biology partner slinks into the seat next to me with a sigh. She gives me a furtive little peek. Then says hesitantly, “You’re friends with Irelan, right?”
Speak of the devil.
“Why yes I am,” I say with a curious smile. “Why? Did she break your heart?”
Lori gives me a surprised gasp. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess,” I sigh.
“You don’t secretly hook up with her?” Lori asks confidential-like, seeming to hold her breath as she waits for my answer.
I do a surprised little cough. “No. Why?”
“I was just wondering. I mean, she seems to really like you. You’re the only girl she really seems to like—I mean, more than just to flirt with.”
I grunt. “Well, that’s because we don’t hook up.”
“Right. But how can you resist?” she moans.
Class starts, which is good. Because I don’t know how to answer her. When I finally come up with my answer, I scribble Lori a quick note, “I have a boyfriend.”
She writes me back. “Me too!!”
Right. That deterrence has really never gotten in Irelan’s way. It’s kind of like she doesn’t want anyone for real but Valerie. Which is sad. Because Valerie is evil. She toys with Irelan’s heart. I can’t stand it. I wish Irelan would find someone nice … but, well, not Lori. Someone better than Lori. Not that Lori isn’t great. She is. She’s just not awesome enough for Irelan.
Only … no one is.
Because Irelan is majorly awesome.
CHAPTER 3
***CHERI***
*CHERI*
I decide I’m on a mission. I will get Irelan a girlfriend. A real one. Not just a random new girl for her to hook-up with and then toss aside. But an actual girlfriend. It’s the least I can do for her, since she was so kind and sweet and patient with me during my break-up with Jackson. The girl is seriously a saint. (Well, in some ways) (not others). But she was a saint to me. Always being there for me, whenever I needed her—ditching her own plans that she didn’t even ever tell me she had.
So, you know, I majorly got in her way of girls. I knew that. And I knew it was majorly selfish of me to let her do that. But I just liked her so much. And liked spending time with her.
So … I was selfish.
But I’d make it up to her now. Now that I was back together with Jackson I could ease up on my gorgeous crutch known as Irelan. Also, if I got Irelan a girlfriend it would do a lot of other awesome things too—like get her mind off Valerie … and hopefully help get my mind off Irelan. I really needed to stop leaning on my crutch so much. It’s just—well, I seemed to have a slight crush on my crutch. I needed to nip that in the bud. Big time.
So, I went to the next LGBT meeting. Well, I didn’t actually go. But I hung out by the door outside of their meeting, and scanned the room. Irelan seemed to have a thing for redheads. I’d noticed that. Valerie is a striking redhead, and most of the girls Irelan went after were slight clones of Valerie. Just usually they were straight. And (interestingly) usually had boyfriends. It was like she really, really didn’t want anyone but Valerie. She just wanted little flings with substitute-Valeries. (The girl has issues, apparently.)
(I will tell you though, I have slightly red hair. It’s technically called “strawberry blond.” Well, that’s what my mom calls it. But so it suddenly makes me wonder—does Irelan see me as a “substitute-Valerie” too?? I never really thought about this before. Not until I started my search to find Irelan the perfect girlfriend. But the thought of being a ‘substitute’ in Irelan’s eyes is painful. It like, kills.
CHAPTER 4
***CHERI***
When I get home from the LGBT meeting, I text Irelan: “I’m having a few friends meet me at The Toast to study for our history test, you want to come?”
Only a moment later, I get a phone call. It’s Irelan. (!!)
“Sure,” she says, sounding all happy and surprised.
See, though Jackson and I are back together I didn’t forget about you Irelan. Far from it.
I give her the details of when we’re meeting and stuff, though she has to write it all down. Which is a little bit amusing, since if she had just texted me back like a normal person, I would have written the details down in a text.
When I mention this to her she says, “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to hear your voice.”
Flirt!!
CHAPTER 5
When we get to The Toast, Irelan stops in her tracks when she sees I’m leading her to a table where Joyce Thompson is sitting. (Joyce is a beautiful red-head by the way.)
Irelan freezes when she sees her. “Um, Joyce is studying with us?” she asks, sounding a bit uneasy.
“Yeah. Why? Is that a problem?”
Irelan rubs the back of her neck, still not moving. Just gazing at Joyce off in the distance with reluctance in her eyes. Luckily, Joyce hasn’t noticed us yet. (No girl likes to be looked at with reluctance.)
Irelan runs a hand over her face. “It’s not exactly a ‘problem,’” she says, though she doesn’t exactly sound too confident about those words. Drawing out a breath, she finally goes on to explain, since she knows I’m waiting for it—an explanation to why she looks so uneasy about my awesome set-up (that no one knows about yet but me). Irelan states hesitantly, “I—we—recently had a joining of tongues.”
She says this as the other girl I invited shows up at the table and sits down beside Joyce—another beautiful redhead, Shannon Myers.
Irelan groans.
I gasp. “What? Shannon too?!”
Irelan squeezes her eyes shut. “Have you invited a table full of redheads?”
“Just those two. But have you made-out with a table full of redheads??”
Irelan’s jaw slants to the side in a self-mocking way. “Look, I’ve needed distractions since Valerie and I parted ways.”
I point out dryly, “Your attention disorder seems to be in high gear.”
“Look, your attention isn’t super focused when you’re away from your fix either.” She points this out just as dryly. Though obviously entertained by the kettle calling the pot black. Or whatever.
Irelan backs up slightly as she eyes the table. Like she’s not up for the cat-fight she knows she’s going to cause. But before she can make a clean get away, both girls spot us and sprout excited smiles.
They wave at us. (Well, Irelan.)
Irelan gulps and waves back. Weakly.
The girls gesture for us to come over.
Irelan sighs, but I pull her along.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I wasn’t aware you already made the LGBT club rounds—I mean, since you avoid the meetings.”
“The meetings—not the members,” Irelan mutters. “And since when have you become my social chair?”
“Since you’ve done such a terrible job of it.”
“I’ve always done a terrible job of it,” she points out.
Okay, then since I’ve needed her to do a better job of it—but I don’t tell her this. Since it will lead to more questions.
Questions I don’t want to answer.
As soon as we get to the table, both girls look at Irelan like they want to eat her. I swear—there is hunger in their eyes. I should have warned them Irelan didn’t know she was on the menu. Of course, I also hadn’t given either of them a heads up that Irelan would be joining us. I’d wanted everything to just come about naturally. (Well, naturally after my trickery to get them here—together where Irelan could have a light-dawning moment and discover that she wanted one of these sweet beauties. But apparently she’d already had a moment—with both of them.)
“Hi Irelan,” Joyce says with a big flirty smile as Irelan reluctantly takes a seat. Joyce gives her flirty-eyes. “I had fun with you the other night.”
Shannon frowns. “What night?!”
Irelan grunts and quickly hops up. “Um, I have a phone call I have to take.”
She dashes away as the two girl
s discover they’d had “fun” with Irelan on the same night. Face-palm.
After a rather long while of them bickering (bitterly) about the details of their same-night sexy-times with Irelan, I text her: “Are you coming back?”
“No.”
Then she types: “The next time you plan my beheading, give me a heads up first. I would have worn something more appropriate.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“An invisibility cloak. Or better yet—nothing. I wouldn’t have come. I can get myself into trouble all on my own, thanks.”
I sigh, then text: “Sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“… why?”
“Because. You deserve better than Valerie.”
“Well, you deserve better than Jackson, but I don’t go siccing your rebound-mistakes on you.”
I head-plant the table, then type: “Well, I wasn’t aware you’ve been with half the school.”
“Well, I am aware you’ve been with the other half.”
I groan. “Touché.”
CHAPTER 6
The next day, when I see Irelan in the school hallway she rolls her eyes when she sees me coming. She doesn’t do it an irritated way. It’s more in a playful way, but still.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Well, I’m trying,” she says. “I’m giving it a shot.”
I pinch her arm. “Well, stop it! I was only trying to help.”
She thumps her forehead on her locker. “Why the sudden interest in my love-life?”
I don’t want to answer, so I’m glad the bell rings.
“Saved by the bell?” she muses.
“Just—don’t be mad at me, because I don’t like that.”
“Like you’ve ever even had that happen.”
“I couldn’t bear it if it did.”
She grunts. “I’m pretty sure you’d survive,” she says dryly as Jackson sneaks up behind me and puts his arms around my waist.
“I wouldn’t,” I tell her as she saunters away.
CHAPTER 7
When I get to math class, I mouth to Irelan, “Are you going to the GSLT meeting after school?”
She gives me a quizzical look. But it’s just her messing around. She texts, “The what?”
I give it another shot.
She slides into the seat next to me since we have a substitute who doesn’t know the seating-chart. Irelan asks whimsically, “Why can’t you get the letters straight?”
She says it around a smile, pleased with her pun.
“Well, you guys keep adding letters to it,” I tell her back just as whimsically, pleased to have her sitting next to me—though it has the pretty girl Irelan normally sits next to scowling at me.
Irelan raises her eyebrows. “Us ‘guys?’ No one consults me about the letters. I have no say in the letters.”
The girl Irelan usually sits next to keeps giving me dirty looks. I mention this to Irelan in a confidential whisper. Irelan rolls her eyes. “Are you going to have me meet her at The Toast next—with that redhead at the front of the class?”
“Do you want me to?”
Irelan grunts. “No. But I didn’t want to be part of your bizarre last set-up either. I don’t really get what you were thinking. Were you thinking of a threesome?” She raises her eyebrows, “—or a foursome?”
I scoff. “No. I thought maybe you would like one of them—not both of them. I thought maybe you would pick one of them. But of course that would have to be you being picky about whose tongue yours entwines with. I guess I should have known better.”
She scoffs playfully. “Yeah. No kidding.”
But then her eyes peek over at me. “Seriously though, why are you suddenly messing with my love-life?”
The substitute shushes us.
But Irelan’s eyes stay questioningly on me. She gestures at my phone. Apparently indicating she wants my answer.
With a sigh, I finally I text her, “Remember the donuts?”
I mention this more for the nostalgia sake. Remind her that we’re friends.
Her jaw muscles flicker as she stares at my words. Finally she types: “Of course I remember the donuts.”
I text her back: “I’m just trying to repay you for those.”
When we were young my mom would always buy a box of donuts when she went grocery shopping. I loved those donuts! But my older brothers would hog them all and I’d only get one—if I was lucky enough to even get that.
But one time when my mom was putting away the groceries after shopping, my brothers came in the kitchen and started riffling through the grocery bags.
“Where’s the donuts?” they asked.
Mom helped them search.
“Hmm. I know I bought them,” she said when they went through every single bag and came up donut-less.
She even checked her receipt—proof. She bought them. Yet—no donuts. It was a mystery.
“The grocery bagger must have missed them, and not bagged them up,” Mom concluded with a sigh. “Sorry guys.”
So, that was the end of the donut hunt.
… until I went to bed that night. Then!—there they were when I flung back my covers. The whole box of donuts!—in my bed.
It was … astonishing.
I was shocked.
Amazed!
Sooo baffled.
Just a teeny tiny while later Irelan tapped on my bedroom window. I was shocked at that too—Irelan at my window. I was thrilled to see her. She was one of my most favorite friends—even if I wasn’t hers.
Come to think of it though, Irelan had been at my house during the donut hunt. She hadn’t been there hanging out with me though. She’d just come from soccer practice with my brothers and was playing video games with them. My brother Ethan loved Irelan dearly. Not exactly in a mushy way though, not exactly. In a “she’s so cool” kind of way. And my other brothers hung out with her too. They liked her in a “she’s a jock like us” kind of way. See, back then Irelan was kind of more their friends than mine. Maybe. Sort of.
Well, that’s what I had thought.
But when I opened my window, she asked me with a sly smile, “Did you get my present?”
My eyes flew open wide. “It was you? You hid the donuts in my bed?”
“Well, your brothers usually get them all,” she said. “I figured it was your turn.”
Awww!
A jet of warmth shot through me, right to my heart.
I smiled huge. “Thanks! Come in and have your reward.”
She blinked, but then eagerly climbed through my window.
We sat in my bed and ate the whole box of donuts, Irelan telling me all these funny stories and me giggling like the giddiest girl on earth—because I was.
I adored Irelan.
CHAPTER 8
***IRELAN***
*IRELAN*
The donut night had been one the greatest nights of my life.
Of course when Cheri had smiled so beautiful and said the magical words, “Come in and have your reward!” I had secretly hoped the “reward” would be a kiss—it wasn’t.
I did get invited into her bed though, and got to eat the box of donuts with her.
It had been totally awesome.
… though I secretly would have rather had the kiss.
Man, I long to kiss her.
CHAPTER 9
***IRELAN***
*IRELAN*
It’s been about two weeks since Jackson and Cheri have gotten back together. So, I’m surprised when I get home from soccer practice and find Cheri on my doorstep. Hmmm. She’s made me brownies.
“In a fight with Jackson?” I ask her as I happily take the brownies.
“No!—well, not exactly.”
I smile. “Sorry, but I like it when you’re in a fight,” I tell her as I munch on her delicious brownies. She makes the best. She puts frosting on them.
“Why? Because I bake you things?”
“—and unexpectedly show up at my house.”
&
nbsp; “Well, that’s not just because of the fight—that Jackson and I are not exactly having. Not exactly. But I started writing a song and it made me think about you, and miss writing with you …”
She trails off. So, I guess she’s done explaining why she’s here (like she needs a reason). I smile with this thrill going through me. I mean she’s here, even when she’s sort-of-at-least still together with Jackson. And man, just she’s here. And she baked me brownies, and she’s smiling at me. And she was thinking about me, and missed writing with me.
My smile is probably gigantic. “Hey, then let’s go inside and write that song,” I tell her.
She smiles, “Okay!”
“Thanks for the brownies, by the way,” I tell her.
We go up to my room, and—oh man! It’s clean. What has happened here?
For a moment I’m stunned. But then I follow Cheri’s gaze of horror.
Oh no! There’s a girl on my bed.
It’s this girl, Bianca.
She’s in a bikini.
A very small bikini.
Very red bikini.
Very sexy bikini.
A tiny groan escapes my lips.
“Surprise,” Bianca says.
Yeah, you could say that.
It’s not that I’m not delighted to find a hot chick on my bed—especially when she’s cleaned my room.
Only … well, I’m not delighted.
First of all, because I have my own hot chick that I’ve brought up to my room (the hot chick of my dreams) and now said dream hot chick is probably not going to stay.
