The Fill-In Boyfriend

by Kasie West

  “It was okay. Can we talk about it tomorrow? All that driving made me tired.”

  “Of course. I’m so happy you got to be there for your brother,” my mom said. “I’m regretting now that we didn’t go.”

  “No. It was probably better that you didn’t. He was busy.” I paused while staring at my mom. “You’re still wearing your makeup.”

  The subject change seemed to throw her for a moment. She brought her hand to her cheek. “Yes, of course.”

  “It’s late.”

  “I haven’t gotten ready for bed yet.”

  “Sorry to make you wait up.” On my way to my room my phone chimed. I pulled it out.

  Don’t watch the video. It isn’t pretty.

  Hayden’s text didn’t stop me. I had to watch it. I had to know what was up on the internet for the entire world to see. I changed into my pajamas and grabbed my laptop. I tried to watch the piece as if it weren’t me on the screen. As if it were some other seventeen-year-old girl. Even though I couldn’t do it completely, even for the small moment I tried to visualize it, I was still humiliated for the girl with the social media addiction. The girl addicted to the validation of strangers. She didn’t even know what she thought until someone told her what to think. She didn’t even know who she was. It killed me to know that Hayden had watched this.

  I shut the laptop a little too hard then buried my head under my pillow. Hayden was right. I shouldn’t have watched that. I should’ve left well enough alone with the three minutes I’d already seen.

  Drew called around nine a.m. I didn’t want to answer the phone but I wanted to hear his excuse. I wanted him to have one.

  “Hello.”

  “Gia, you weren’t supposed to come.”

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t think I could. If that was his excuse, it wasn’t a very good one.

  His tone became defensive as he rushed on. “I told you right there on the video that I was going to use it for a school project.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. I forced them down like I always did. “It’s just . . . I thought you wanted to talk to me because you cared about me not because you were doing some project.”

  “Gia, of course I care about you. I’m trying to help you and a lot of other people by bringing this out in the open. Did you know that it’s actually been proven that Facebook can cause depression? Comparing yourself to others, the need for validation, it’s not good for our mental health.”

  “Well, your film managed to do that better than Facebook ever has for me, Drew. It made me feel like crap. Like some shallow, idiotic girl who doesn’t even know her own mind.” It took a lot to admit that to him. It was hard enough admitting it to Hayden’s mom.

  “That was the message I wanted the audience to get. They were supposed to see themselves in you.”

  “I don’t think it worked. I was made fun of after the ceremony.”

  “Then those people were idiots.”

  “That didn’t sound like an apology.”

  “I should’ve told you about it.”

  That still didn’t sound like an apology. “When did you turn into a pretentious jerk?”

  “I posted it on Facebook. Didn’t you notice?”

  I let out a small gasp.

  “Gia, I—”

  I hung up the phone then because it was that or yell obscenities at him and my head already hurt enough.

  I ripped a piece of paper out of the notebook sitting on my desk and wrote down the website where his video could be found. Then I marched into the kitchen, my chest so tight with anger that I thought I might pass out. My parents were sitting at the table, my dad reading the Sunday paper, my mom the real estate section. They both looked up when I slammed the piece of paper onto the table.

  “Whoa,” my dad said, a smile coming to his lips. “What’s that all about?”

  “Your son is a douche. Just thought you should know. Dad, I’m borrowing your car. I’ll be at the library.” With that, I marched out of the kitchen.

  My parents were shocked into silence behind me.

  The librarian lowered her brow disapprovingly. “I don’t think we have any biographies on people who had to deal with d-bags.”

  “What about pretentious jerks? Who do you think is the biggest pretentious jerk in history? I want to read his biography.” Mrs. Reynolds had told me to learn people’s stories. I thought this was a great start and maybe it would help me deal with the one in my life.

  The librarian’s face lit with understanding. “Did you just go through a breakup? I do have books on how to deal with that.”

  “No, I didn’t. I just want to read a biography. What is the most popular biography?”

  “Presidents are pretty popular as well as Einstein, Anne Frank, Cleopatra.”

  “Cleopatra? Was she that Egyptian queen or something?”

  “Yes, the last pharaoh of Egypt. She was a powerful woman who was ruthless a lot of times. Even refused to share power with her own brother.”

  “Yes. That. Where?”

  “Let me show you.”

  I was forty pages in when I got a text from Hayden.

  You okay?

  Did you know that Cleopatra had to marry her own brother?! Marry him!

  Um . . .

  It was customary. But gross, right? She hated him. Mainly because she didn’t want to share power with him. I’m sure he didn’t make a “documentary” starring her, though, so really, I don’t know what her beef was. I’m sure I’ll find out soon.

  Did you just use the word “beef” in a sentence?

  Do you have a problem with that?

  I might. Where are you?

  I’m finding depth.

  Are you okay?

  I showed my parents the video.

  What did they say?

  I don’t know. I’ll find out soon enough.

  I feared seeing my parents’ reactions. I was already mad enough at my brother. I wasn’t sure I could handle more anger when faced with their hurt too. Especially because it wasn’t often I saw them hurt. They were so good at playing The Perfect Parents that I wasn’t sure how The Devastated Parents would look. My phone vibrated with an incoming call and I answered it with a whisper.

  “Hello?”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  I closed the book, left it on the table, and walked toward the door. “I’m in the library.”

  “That’s where all the Cleopatra facts were coming from?”

  I opened the door and stepped outside. A breeze lifted the hair off my forehead and I sat on the closest bench. “Yes. What are you doing?”

  “Not much. I called because you weren’t answering my text.”

  I was confused. “I answered your text, like, five times. Did you send me another one?”

  “You avoided my question, like, five times. I was asking if you are okay.”

  “Oh. Yes. I guess. I don’t know.”

  He laughed. “Is this multiple choice?”

  “My brother’s just a jerk, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m sorry, Gia, I really am.”

  “You know what’s funny? He couldn’t even say sorry about what he did, and it was his mistake and you had nothing to do with it and I think you’ve apologized three times.” On a whim I added, “Are you busy?”

  “Just practicing a scene.”

  “Do you want to get ice cream? I’ll run lines with you.”

  He hummed a little and I thought he was going to turn me down so I added, “My friends and I always get ice cream when something bad happens. It’s how I get over things.” I cringed, angry that I chose to make him feel sorry for me again to get him to meet me.

  “Okay, sure. Text me the address.”

  CHAPTER 25

  It wasn’t until after I hung up the phone and texted him the address that I realized I was not dressed appropriately for a date. Not that this was a date. But it was definitely an I-have-a-crush-on-this-guy-and-want-him-to-actually-like-me-and-not-continue-to-f
eel-sorry-for-me-so-I-shouldn’t-show-up-in-yoga-pants-and-a-tank-with-no-makeup kind of thing. It was too late, though. He’d have to see me this way unless I wanted to cancel.

  I didn’t want to cancel. It didn’t matter anyway. He had seen my brother’s home video of me and I had looked—well, aside from dumb and shallow—awful. And maybe worrying about him seeing me look awful on top of dumb and shallow made me even more dumb and shallow, but it’s how I felt. And I really wanted to see him so I pushed those thoughts aside. I’d had a bad day and the idea of seeing him was the only highlight so far.

  It was cold in the ice cream shop. I wondered if they had to keep it cold for the ice cream or if it was the workers’ preference. Because as the eater of the ice cream, I wanted a little warmth. I always ended up at the metal tables outside.

  I looked at all the flavors again while I waited for Hayden, not sure if I should order without him or wait.

  “Are you ready?” the guy behind the counter asked.

  “I’m still waiting for someone,” I told him again.

  “You go to my school,” he said. “Gia, right?”

  My eyes snapped to his. Another person I didn’t know. Being in leadership lent itself to people knowing my name and me not knowing theirs in return, but I was feeling extra sensitive about that fact lately. “Have we met before?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” I said with a sigh, then realized how it sounded. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to meet you, I just thought I forgot your name.”

  He pointed to his nametag, which said, Blake.

  “Oh. Right. I just meant that I thought I should’ve known your name without having to look and . . . never mind.”

  “Are you ready to order yet?”

  I raised my eyebrows. Was I picking up that habit from Hayden?

  “Oh yeah, you’re waiting for someone.” Why did he say that like he didn’t believe me? I hadn’t been waiting too long, had I? I glanced at my cell phone. I’d been here for fifteen minutes. Maybe Hayden wasn’t coming after all.

  “I’ll just wait outside . . . is what I would’ve said a few days ago.”

  A line of confusion formed between his brows.

  “So . . .” My eyes went to his nametag again. “Blake. Are you a senior?”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded. “What’s your story?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, what do you like to do? Are you into sports?”

  “I run track.”

  “Cool.”

  The door opened accompanied by a beeping noise and I turned toward it with a relieved breath.

  Hayden greeted me with his easy smile. He had on glasses that I had almost forgotten he wore. He looked cute in them. How had I ever thought guys wearing glasses weren’t my type? I had a feeling anything Hayden wore at this point would become my type. “Hey.”

  He didn’t even take in my outfit like I thought he would. He just walked to my side and peered in at the flavors along with me.

  “What’s good?” he asked Blake.

  “I don’t know. I’m not really an ice cream fan.”

  “What?” Hayden asked, his voice incredulous. “How does a guy who doesn’t like ice cream end up working in an ice cream shop?”

  “My parents own it.”

  “That makes sense. How long have they owned it?”

  “Twenty years.”

  “So you grew up here?”

  Blake pointed to the floor. “I basically grew up right here.”

  “Raised by ice cream. I can understand why you might not like it.”

  Blake laughed. “I loathe it.”

  And that’s how you find out someone’s story, I thought. How did he do that so naturally?

  Hayden smiled over at me. “What are you getting?”

  “Um . . . I was looking at the Rocky Road but I’m not a huge fan of nuts.”

  “Blake, Gia here likes the flavor of nuts but not the texture. Can you pick them all out for her?”

  I elbowed him in the side. “Actually I don’t like the flavor either.”

  “Then why would you even consider Rocky Road?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I like the other things in it so much that they almost outweigh the nuts.”

  “Gia, you are weird.”

  “Thank you. So what are you getting?”

  “I was thinking about vanilla but then I thought, ‘That is so boring. Gia will think I’m the most boring person ever.’”

  “It’s true.”

  “So then I thought, ‘I bet Blake here will tell me what to order,’ but he was no help whatsoever. Thanks a lot, Blake.”

  “No problem.”

  “So now I’m thinking strawberry is my only option.” He nodded his head once to Blake. “This size.” He pointed to the middle cup then turned to me. “You’re still looking at the Rocky Road. Why are you still looking at the Rocky Road?”

  “I don’t know. It looks so good and then I talk myself into thinking I’m going to like it this time and I never do.”

  “I will save you from yourself, then. You cannot get the Rocky Road. Anything else . . . except vanilla because that’s so boring. Who would even think of getting that? I don’t even know why they stock it.”

  I smiled.

  “It’s actually the most popular ice cream flavor,” Blake said while adding a scoop of strawberry to a cup.

  “Well, I feel validated now. I should’ve gotten the vanilla.”

  My shoulders tightened with his word choice. Validation. The thing I was apparently unhealthily addicted to. Maybe I should ask Twitter what ice cream flavor I should eat. “I’ll have the Caramelo crunch,” I said before I started feeling too sorry for myself. “Same size.”

  We each paid for our own ice cream and I led him out of the cold to a black metal table outside. He sat down then immediately stood back up, pulling something from his back pocket and dropping it to the table—a booklet that had been folded in half and was now slowly unfurling.

  “You said you’d practice lines with me. I wasn’t kidding about needing to. I perform this tomorrow.”

  “Oh, of course.” I grabbed the play, but my eyes lingered on him.

  “What?” he said. “You’re looking at my hair like you want to whip out your little bottle of gel and fix it for the third time.”

  I smiled. I hadn’t been thinking that at all. His hair was him and it was growing on me. “No, I like your hair and your glasses too, by the way. You look cute.”

  He pushed them up on his nose. “My eyes were tired after all that driving yesterday.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, please. I wanted to.”

  I nodded and read the title of the play. “The Odd Couple. Is this that one where the one guy is a mess and the other is a neat freak?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And you are?”

  “A mess.” Then he looked at the book in my hands. “Oh, you mean in the play? I’m the neat freak. Felix.”

  “So wait, you’re a mess in real life?”

  “Yes, can’t you tell?”

  “You seem put together.”

  “Oh, I’m tidy enough. I’m just a mess.”

  “How so?”

  “In more ways than we have time to discuss.” He pointed to the book. “Act two, scene one.”

  “Well, if you’re a mess then I’m a natural disaster.”

  “The cutest natural disaster I’ve ever seen.”

  My cheeks went warm. “Okay, act two, scene one.”

  CHAPTER 26

  We’d run through the scene twice and I’d only had to prompt him once. “You make a really good slightly crazy guy.”

  He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

  “So who plays Oscar?”

  “Just another guy in my class.”

  “Is he as good as you?”

  He met my eyes with a smile. “How am I supposed to answer that? If I say no, I sound conceited. If I say yes, you’ll thin
k I’m nothing special.”

  I stirred my spoon around my empty cup. “I wish I could go watch the scene.”

  “You’d be bored.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Do you like to watch live theater?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Hayden put his hand over his heart. “I’m shocked, Gia. I don’t know if we can be friends.”

  Just as I was about to laugh, I heard a voice from behind me that stopped me cold.

  “Gia?”

  I closed my eyes for a beat then turned around to see Jules. “Hi.”

  Jules smiled at Hayden. “Bradley, right?”

  I cringed, took a deep breath, then said, “N—”

  Hayden stood, and cut me off with, “Yes. And you are?”

  Hayden knew who Jules was. It wasn’t apparent from the look of innocence on his face, though. I wanted to laugh but I managed to keep it in.

  “Jules. We met at prom. . . . You probably don’t remember because you were busy with . . . things.” She looked between the two of us. “I didn’t realize you two were back together. Gia was just telling us about this other guy she was dating.”

  “No, I’m not dating that other guy,” I said quickly, worried Hayden would think I was telling people we were dating. I pointed to Hayden. “And we’re not dating either. We’re just talking.” Was she trying to get me in trouble with “Bradley” by telling him I was dating someone else?

  She looked me up and down. “Did you just come from the gym? You’re looking very . . . natural today.”

  “You’re right,” Hayden said. “She’s a natural beauty.” Hayden had transitioned into his Bradley role well. He even reached down and took my hand in his, regardless of the fact that I’d just told Jules we weren’t dating. I shot him a look but didn’t take my hand back.