by Amy Sparling
I pull back the sheets and slip into the bed, feeling a weird mixture of super exhausted and wide awake. From the kitchen, I can hear the refrigerator open and then close. A few moments later, Park calls out from the other room, “Oh sweet, the couch is already made into a bed for me. Thanks, Becca!” And then, another part spoken softer. I’m not sure if I am even supposed to hear it. Maybe he thinks I’m already asleep.
“Damn, this pillow smells amazing.”
That’s the pillow I had been lying on before he showed up. Maybe it’s the scent of my perfume or my shampoo that he smells, but the pillow was clean before I laid on it, so that only means one thing. He thinks I smell good. No, not good...amazing.
Chapter 6
I wake up at what is probably very early in the morning, but my phone is dead and the people who live in this apartment have two night stands on either side of the bed but no digital clocks to tell me what time it is. I roll over in my friend’s sheets, frowning as I look at Bayleigh’s nightstand. There’s a book, a tube of lip gloss, and a cord, but no clock.
And then I feel like a huge idiot. That cord is Bayleigh’s phone charger and we have the same type of phone. In my mad dash to charge my phone, I jump out of the bed so quickly I get tangled up in the sheets and almost bust my face on the floor. But I don’t have time to feel like an idiot because I’m too excited to finally have my portal to the world charged up again.
I kneel on the floor next to the bed, holding my phone like a dying baby bird as I wait for it to power up. When it does, an influx of text messages fills the screen. It’s eight-thirty in the morning and I am just now seeing all of the messages Bayleigh had meant for me to see last night.
Bayleigh: Yeah so don’t kill me, but Jace just told Park he can crash at our place since his credit card got declined and he can’t get a hotel.
Bayleigh: You know what that means, right?
Bayleigh: IT MEANS NO HOOKING UP IN MY BED!!
Bayleigh: (just kidding...kind of)
Bayleigh: Hello! You’re not mad at me, are you?
Bayleigh: I’m on a plane right now. Maybe I’m just not getting your texts?
Bayleigh: I love you BECCA. DON’T BE MAD AT ME PLZ.
I could have saved myself so much embarrassment if I had gotten these messages when she sent him. I would have had a warning before Park showed up. I could have fixed my makeup, chosen cuter pajamas from Bayleigh’s closet. I could have been sitting casually on the couch, drinking a cup of hot chocolate when he showed up. I definitely would not have been clutching a baseball bat like a moron when he first saw me. I roll my eyes and leave the phone to charge on the nightstand while I raid Bayleigh’s closet again for something cute to wear.
I choose a pair of her jeans that cost more money than I make all month working at C&C. They have a pair of rhinestone-decorated wings embroidered on the back pockets. I used to make fun of her for spending obscene amounts of money on just a dumb pair of jeans, but once I’m inside of them, buttoning the top button and staring at my ass in the mirror on her closet door, I wish I could take back all of my mockery and jokes. These jeans are amazing. I don’t care if I have to work overtime for months, I will save up and buy myself a pair of these magical jeans.
For now though, these are all mine. At least until Bayleigh gets back. With jeans this amazing, it really doesn’t matter what shirt I wear, but I take a long time going through my best friend’s closet anyhow. I’m trying to stall for time because I don’t want to leave this room. Of course, I’ve had to pee ever since I woke up, so I won’t be able to hold out much longer.
My phone beeps. My mom may be a little overprotective, but there’s no way she’d text me so early in the morning just to make sure I’m still alive, so that only means that Bayleigh is texting me, which is really weird because it’s early in the morning and it’s the first day of her honeymoon. Texting me should be the absolute last thing on her mind.
I’m thinking of a sarcastic comment to tell her when I walk over and check my phone. But all of my witty replies are worthless because it isn’t from Bayleigh.
Park: Wake up. I’m hungry.
Ugh, I can’t believe I’m smiling. His text was careless at best and rudely demanding at worst. Who says stuff like that? He doesn’t know me well enough to tell me to wake up. He could at least say please. But I’m smiling anyhow. Like a complete idiot.
I stare at the text and then set my phone back on the night stand. I’m hungry, too and I have to pee, but Park can wait a little bit. The world doesn’t revolve around him.
Back in the closet, I feel a sudden pressure to choose the best possible shirt. Should I go low cut and cleavage-bearing? Or tank top with a sheer long-sleeved shirt? Maybe one of Bayleigh’s motocross shirts with a logo that Park would recognize since he’s also a motocross guy.
Deep down, a part of me knows I’m being completely insane. In the whole scheme of things, as far as my life and my future and the entire universe that continues to exist outside of me and my stupid problems, I know it doesn’t really matter what I wear or say or do today. Park is just some guy who lives two thousand miles away and has his whole life that does not involve me. But even when my brain urges to me to just shut up and be myself and stop freaking out over what I look like and how I act, my heart still wants me to try. To just try and see what happens.
So I take the pink shirt with the Fox head logo and I fluff my hair in the mirror, and then tie it back in a cute but messy bun. Without taking a shower, there’s no way my hair can stay down today since it has leftover hairspray and glitter from last night. And yeah, I should take a shower, but showering while Park is in the other room makes me feel weirdly scared so I’ll just have to double up on deodorant and wait until I get home to wash my hair.
Park has taken all the blankets off the couch and folded them up neatly, stacking the pillow on top. That isn’t the first thing I notice when I walk into the living room. I wish it was—I wish I hadn’t stepped outside of the bedroom door and caught Park’s gaze the moment I looked up—but that’s how it ended up working out. He’s lounging on the couch, one foot on the coffee table, his right arm stretched across the back of the couch. In his left hand he holds the remote control and is flipping through channels on the television.
Our eyes meet for at least five seconds, which is three and a half seconds longer than any direct eye contact should last, and his lips part into a smile. “Good morning.” He says it all casually and sexily and that damn smile of his makes him look like the gorgeous guy in a romantic comedy—right before you find out he’s married or gay or in some other way totally unattainable.
“Morning,” I say back, looking bored and equally unattainable.
“Ready for breakfast?”
“I guess?” My nerves make my reply come out sounding like a question, but it works in my favor. Park’s eyebrows draw together and he gives me a sideways look. “Did you get my text?”
“Your text?” This time I do mean it as a question. Why should I let him know I’ve already read, and reread, and re-reread his text from this morning? A girl who is unattainable wouldn’t have bothered to read his text, so that’s exactly what I’m going to pretend. “Let me check.” I slide the phone out of my back pocket and go through the motions of pretending to read his text for the first time. “What am I, your mother?”
“God, I hope not,” he says with a little laugh.
“There’s probably food in the kitchen,” I say. “Jace is addicted to Pop tarts.”
He shakes his head. “No way. I need bacon and eggs. And waffles. Since you’re the local Texan, can you tell me where the best breakfast place is around here?”
“Sherry’s Diner is pretty good and it’s about the most Texan experience you’ll get around here. It’s just up the road a few miles.”
When he stands up, he’s suddenly towering over me, and I don’t flinch, no matter how strong the urge is to take a step backward. I didn’t notice him grab his truck keys, but
now he’s jiggling them in his hand. “You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
He swings the key around his index finger. It still has the plastic tag on it from the car dealership. “Ready for breakfast? I’ll drive.”
Now I know how Bayleigh feels when she rides around in Jace’s fancy truck. Park has one just like it. A Ford pickup with four doors and big tires and leather seats. The new car smell permeates the air as we drive down the back roads toward Sherry’s Café. We don’t have much to say, but luckily the silence never lasts too long because I’ll have to give him more directions.
Everything’s happening so fast: Park showing up, Park asking me to breakfast. I don’t really have time to process it all. Soon, we’re sitting in a corner booth near the back of the crowded café and Park orders a coffee and asks if I’d like one as well.
“Yes, please,” I say, looking up at the waitress.
“She’s a woman after my own heart,” Park says with that freaking smile of his.
“Oh yeah?” The waitress says in reply. “Coffee is all it takes to win you over?”
Oh my God. She’s flirting. And now that I look at her, she isn’t much older than I am, and definitely not bad to look at either. I glance at Park to see if he’s staring at her cute face or her nicely-shaped boobs. But he’s staring at me. He winks. “Coffee isn’t all it takes,” he says to her, still looking at me. “But it’s a good start.”
Again, he stares at me just a fraction too long for two people who are just friends. I know all of the signs point to Park flirting with me right now, especially when he takes a sugar packet from the container on the table and tosses it at me. He’s practically a kid on the playground who just pulled my hair. But I’m having a really hard time buying that a guy so freaking hot would even care to flirt with someone as plain and boring as me.
I might have gotten a kickass job and hair highlights in the past year, but besides that, I’m still pretty much just regular old Becca. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t have just a little bit of fun flirting back with him. He’ll be gone soon anyway, so it’s not like it’ll matter.
The sugar packet ammo lands in my lap and I grab it, place it in my spoon and then fling it back across the table toward him. He goes to catch it but it bounces off his hand, flies through the air and lands on the floor several feet away from our table. My eyes go wide and I try to hide my laughter.
Park shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed in me. “This Texas girl is trying to get me kicked out before I've even had breakfast.”
“What is your fascination with constantly reminding me that I’m from Texas? Is it because I’m so cool and you’re super jealous of that fact?”
I expect him to laugh and shoot back something equally sarcastic. But instead, he just sips from his coffee and then smirks at me.
“What?” I say. I stir sugar into my coffee to avoid looking at him. He shakes his head and says, “Nothing.”
“Well now you have to tell me.” I grip my coffee mug with both hands and bring it to my lips. “Why are you smirking at me like that?”
“Smirking? I’m not smirking.”
I scoff. “Excuse you, Nolan Park. I know smirking when I see it. I watch Vampire Dairies. I know smirk.”
This makes him flat out laugh out loud. “How does watching a vampire show make you an expert on what’s a smirk?”
“Um, duh.” I roll my eyes. “Have you seen Ian Somerhalder? He is the smirk king. And you happen to be making that same expression right now.”
He leans forward, resting on his elbows. His eyes pierce into mine and his lips part into a wicked smile. “Maybe I’m a vampire,” he says quietly.
I shrug. “Doubtful. Vampires would be way hotter than you.”
“Ouch. Texas girls are meaner than California girls.”
I lift my fork from the table and point it at him. “Call me a Texas girl one more time and I’ll stab this through your eyeball.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay okay. I’ll stop. I just have to call you that because I don’t know anything else about you.”
The waitress brings our food and all conversation stops while Park dives into his order of eggs and bacon with extra bacon. “So tell me about yourself,” he says. “What are some exciting things about Becca the bridesmaid?”
“Well I’m a big fan of the Vampire Diaries,” I say. “Not just the show. I’ve read all the books. And I read them back in the old days before they had a TV show and before they were super popular.” Park nods and gives me his smirk again and I realize I’ve just rambled off something really lame and stupid about myself. God, Becca. In an effort to redeem myself, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve been practicing on a BMX bike lately and I’m getting good at the foam pit.”
This seems to get his attention. He actually stops shoveling food into his mouth for an entire moment so he can talk. “Really? That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, well it’s not that impressive. I’m basically just pedaling into a pile of foam blocks. I can’t do any tricks yet.”
“Most girls are terrified of the foam pit. I can never even get them to walk up the half pipe just to watch me ride.”
“They’re not scared,” I say, stirring my coffee even though the sugar has been thoroughly mixed for a while now. “They’re just flirting with you. Making themselves seem so fragile it’s sexy. Stuff like that.”
This makes him laugh. “You’re probably right, but I don’t get why girls think it’s sexy to be terrified of everything fun.”
“Don’t ask me,” I say with a snort of laughter. “I don’t know the first thing about being sexy.”
He smiles but this time it isn’t one of those smirky bordering-on-being-an-asshole smiles. It’s how he looked last night when he was walking my best friend down the aisle. This smile is as genuine as it can get. Then we make eye contact and he lowers his gaze to his plate, shaking his head a little as if he can’t believe what he’s thinking.
“Go on,” I say, waving my fork at him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He takes another bite of his breakfast. “You don’t want to know.”
“Fine, don’t tell me,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll just be over here on my side of the booth thinking stupid things about you to make you feel insecure.”
When he looks at me again, I know I’ve done it. I’ve said the magic words to break him open and make him tell me what he’s thinking. I really hope it’s something I want to hear.
His eyes slowly find mine as he moves his fork around on his plate. “I’m thinking...that you’re one of the good ones.”
I open my mouth to reply, but for the first time in my life, I don’t have anything to say. Park continues, “You’re a sweet girl. That’s what I’m thinking. You talk about books and you wear matching pajamas and you’ll do anything for your best friend.”
“Hey now, those pajamas were Bayleigh’s,” I interject, but he keeps talking.
“I like being around you.”
I rest my chin in my hands. “Why is that?”
He doesn’t even stumble over his words. “You’re exactly the kind of girl I would date.”
I swallow. “And well, you know,” he says, swirling his fork around in the air. “You’re the kind of girl I’d work really hard for, like I’d call and text and shit. And it’d all be for nothing because then I’d break your heart.”
“Why the hell would you work hard to win over a girl and then break her heart?”
His smile fades. “It isn’t on purpose. It’s never on purpose. I might be a dick sometimes but I don’t go out of my way to hurt someone.”
I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “So it’s happened before? This dating a nice girl and breaking her heart scenario?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly so that it puffs up his cheeks. “It’s happened before.”
“Sounds like you didn�
�t try hard enough to keep her.”
He shakes his head and dives back into his food, his solemn moment of remembrance now forgotten. “I didn’t want to keep any of them.”
“So you don’t want to be a dick and yet you’re openly admitting to being a dick?” I say. “I don’t think you’re a very nice person, Park.”
He shrugs. Gives me that killer smile of his. “I’m nice when I want to be.”
Chapter 7
Park wasn’t kidding about how his copy of Jace and Bayleigh’s apartment key is seriously subpar. It takes him three tries and several curse words before he gets the door unlocked. When he finally does, he has to work to get the key back out of the lock.
“Let me see that,” I say, reaching for his key. His key is shiny and crisp where the machine had recently carved it out. Mine is a little worn down on the edges. Although the ridges are the same shape on both keys, his is slightly bigger. “You got a crappy one,” I say, handing it back. “They gave me the good key. Probably because they like me more than they like you.”
“I just need to use the key more,” he says, plopping on the couch and stretching out his body to cover the full length of it. He lies on his back and rests his hands behind his neck. “Guess I need to come visit you more often.”
I lift an eyebrow. “I don’t live here, so good luck on that.”
“Where do you live?”
“In Lawson…where C&C BMX Park is. Duh.”
“Ah, even better. I have friends in Lawson.” His eyes follow me as I walk from the living room to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I twist off the cap and take a sip. Then I pour some of the water in Jace’s plant near the window. I watered the other one, the bonsai, last night so it should be good for a while. Park clucks his tongue. “And now I have a new friend in Lawson.”
I think he’s flirting. But after all of that heart breaking talk, I’m not sure I even want to associate with him. He’s gorgeous. But he’s dangerous. He breaks girls hearts and openly admits it. Who does that?
