Almost

by Anne Eliot

  “Hiking, now roller skating? I will say ‘no’ if the next one involves a zip line or rock climbing.” He smiles. “That explains all the screaming, I suppose. Is this true, Jess?” He steps into the room.

  “Dad!” I quickly pull the covers over our heads so Dad will think I'm embarrassed instead of hiding mine and Kika's blotchy, post-crying faces. “It's true. Okay?” I call through the comforter. “It's not that kind of date. We're friends, going skating with a bunch of other friends. That's all. Hear me? Friends. And I'm telling Kika all about it, not you, Dad…so carry on…report back to Mom, please.”

  Kika giggles in the dark next to me. “Yeah Dad, this is girl stuff,” she adds.

  “I assume we will get to meet this mystery guy,” Dad says. From the sound of his voice he hasn't budged.

  “Nope. You're never going to meet him!” I shout, and mean it. “He's just a friend. No reason for anyone to meet the parents. Yet,” I add.

  Right on cue, Kika giggles again. “Unless she kisses him, and he becomes her boyfriend. Then we get to meet him. You promised.”

  “Because that's not, at all, EVER, happening,” I say. “If I do kiss this guy, I'll bring him by the house so Dad can kill him. How's that?”

  “Sounds perfect.” Dad laughs while Kika bursts into another fit of giggles. “And kill him I will,” Dad adds, which makes Kika laugh louder.

  I try to laugh too, but I'm about to suffocate. “Okay, Dad…I'm humiliated enough here, you can go anytime.”

  Thankfully, when I peek out of the blanket, Kika's still sighing and giggling. Her threat to tell our parents about my nightmare is forgotten, and Dad is long gone.

  Divert successful.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jess

  My first time roller skating has gone way beyond my low expectations. I've actually given it a rating of perfect despite the fact that the entire place is kind of whacked. Everything off the rink is covered with blue carpet and smells like old socks and stale sweat masked with Pine-Sol. It also blasts eighties pop non-stop, and has headache-worthy seventies disco lights.

  But to me, it's become Cinderella's ballroom. I'm the girl crashing the party and dancing with the prince. This is total progress. Icing on the cake: Thanks to this date, I'd faced two other major teen firsts besides roller skating tonight: 1. An 11PM curfew and, 2. My new interrogator-style parents.

  It's like the worried, do-whatever-you-want-sweetie-pie parents I used to have never existed. Tonight I'd been slapped with real live crankiness, a deadline and a long lecture about safety and making good choices before I'd left the house.

  Double progress. This second date with Gray has earned me a first class ticket on the normal train! But it's also come with an unexpected price. Because my parents are worried I might have a boyfriend, my perfect ‘give me privacy' set-up is now at an end.

  I knew this would happen eventually, but the third week into my contract with Gray seems way too soon for the prying to begin. I suppose it's my fault for being too good at all this lying.

  In order for Mom and Dad to allow me to leave the house at all, I'd promised that I'd bring Corey Nash home for a barbecue next Sunday. Worse, Corey's supposed to pick me up and drive me the next time we go out. The speeding away from the driveway trick really pissed off Dad. They said if I was officially calling these outing dates—a word I'd used more than popcorn at the movies the past few days—then my boyfriend needed to man up. “Unless you're hiding something, honey,” Mom had said, suspicion dripping off her.

  I search for Gray, who'd offered to get us drinks but now seems to have disappeared. Gripping the half-wall that separates me from the zooming people skating on the rink, I half skate, half walk, toward a sitting area. I'm trying to imagine scenarios that might work to delay the barbecue.

  Maybe Gray could convince Corey to be his ‘stand in’ for one night; but I shudder at that thought. It would mean involving Corey in our contract, and I'm starting to like that everyone believes we're a real couple. Plus, Corey would blab the truth to the whole planet. Maybe not right away, but somewhere he'd slip up. The guy is just that type. Plus, I'd already imagined going back to school with only Gray and I holding onto this secret summer.

  That feels safe—livable. Corey Nash…in my front yard eating Dad's special chili slapped on a grilled burger while pretending to be my boyfriend? That feels like the worst idea in the world.

  I've run out of rink wall so I gingerly hold my hands out wide for balance and tap-clump my wheeled feet toward the rest area. My head's spinning. Partly due to the music and lights, partly due to the barbecue dinner problem, but mostly, because as of tonight, I'm admitting that I have a major, huge, impossible crush on Gray Porter.

  It's not Gray's fault. He's simply been himself. His paid self, that is, which is probably not even really how he truly acts at all. Either way, my pretend boyfriend has been someone so amazing tonight, that he's sent my heart into unrecoverable space.

  I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, nor do I care. Who can think straight when you're melting from happiness? Not me. I love how being near Gray paints me with goose bumps when he touches me—when he smiles into my eyes. He's done both, nonstop for the past hour. I feel my cheeks tingle and heat.

  I've crossed so far over into my self-constructed land of madness and lies that I'm sitting here admitting that what I have is way more than a crush. Somewhere, between testing the ladybug cameras at work all day and holding his hand all night, I've fallen in love with Gray Porter. Or my fake life, or my fake boyfriend. Whatever it is, whomever he is…what I'm experiencing is real, exciting, and the best feeling I've ever had in my whole life.

  This has to be love.

  I'm a casualty of my own war. Unexpected. And now, in hindsight, I see it was probably unavoidable. Today, when Gray had been handed his second paycheck, I'd been given a lame pity-smile from the HR lady who passed out the envelopes. But that woman had no idea what my pay off is. I'm the richest girl in Golden, CO.

  I'm out on a date with the most beautiful guy in our whole town, and he's treating me like I'm priceless, beautiful and breakable! Gray has earned every penny of his money tonight. He's made sure not one of my knees, elbows or my butt has once hit the slippery smooth roller-skating rink. He's also laughed at every one of my jokes. He even laughs when I'm not joking—like he's truly happy to be hanging out with me.

  Even real girlfriends don't get that. Do they?

  Once I'd figured out how to skate a little, he'd spent the last hour patiently pulling me around the rink, making certain I was safe from colliding into the walls or the other skaters.

  It might be a ‘fake’ situation and I might be a little crazy, but I'm still a real girl.

  One with a beating heart who's not immune to sweet, green-eyed smiles and tons of attention from a gorgeous guy. I feel my cheeks heat to burning. I think of his hands…hands I've been holding for hours and blush even more. Suddenly the rink grows silent and all I can hear is my own voice swelling inside my head.

  I'm in love. Love. Love.

  I pause to cover my cheeks with my hands and work to breathe normally while I console myself with the thought that it's only a mirage. I'm living fiction. It's perfectly okay to be in love with any and all fictional boyfriends, even if they aren't yours.

  Boys in books are NOT better than fake dating GRAY PORTER.

  I know deep down, Gray and this feeling are not really mine to keep. My current happiness is stolen—bought. It's only a matter of time before the clock strikes twelve and all of my magical fun flips. That's the part where everything turns back into mice, a pumpkin, and a girl with no shoes, who had a really fun summer.

  I don't mean to leave a glass slipper behind either. My parents forcing me bring Corey Nash to a barbecue is a bleak reminder of how soon I'll be out of this world and back to reality. I've got eight days before the game is up. Unless I can come up with a way to buy myself more time, this princess is getting forced out
of the ball early. Besides, my Prince Charming, nice as he might be, is in this for the money. Gray would be horrified if he knew where my thoughts led me tonight.

  Love.

  Ha! He'd run so fast and so far away from me if he knew. What guy wouldn't? But he's not going to know. So there's no harm in me thinking what I want, or in gathering as many great memories as I can for later reference. Gray said it the day we'd made this contract: that it's not a crime if we have fun together.

  As much as it's scary to feel this way, it is fun. And he's not going to know about my feelings, so it's safe enough. I make it to the round, carpeted bench without any embarrassing leg twisting incidents and I sit. A small, pent up laugh escapes because, really this whole situation is sort of hilarious. I kick my skates against the carpeted floor as fast as I can. When the wheels are humming, I lift my feet high to watch them spin and I can't stop grinning.

  I spot Michelle and Corey. They're still on the rink and lined up as finalists in the limbo contest. I toy with the idea of standing to watch, but I don't trust myself not to fall so I stay put, waiting for my boyfriend.

  Because I love him.

  That thought has me laughing out loud, grinning and spinning my skate wheels all over again.

  He emerges through the crowd and skates toward me. He's so good at skating, the carpet doesn't even slow him down. His dark curls are wild, and his sun-bronzed cheeks are flushed. He's smiling at me again. He always does that.

  My heart clenches as I smile back. To combat the rush of excitement surging through me, I roll my eyes at him as though I'm thoroughly bored waiting for him. Without even a slip, he executes a perfect, hockey-half turn and slides on to the bench next to me. “Sorry it took so long.” He hands me a Coke.

  I don't trust my voice so I sip the drink, wondering if he ever feels out of place—or like he's losing his mind. He always seems so comfortable in his own skin. Does he ever have to keep his face straight while he's screaming inside his head?

  “Tired?” he asks.

  I still can't answer.

  “Jess, what's up?” He bends down.

  He's used that voice. The one that is sort of private and says he's speaking only to me. The one that's probably the reason I'm so nuts over him because he's been using it all night.

  He moves closer, those amazing eyes scan my face.

  “Okay. I'm a little tired,” I say and meet his gaze with my most serene expression.

  And I'm so in love with you my heart hurts.

  “I knew it.” He's watching my face like I'm some sort of lab rat.

  I look up at him, shocked. Did I say the love bit out loud?

  “And my ankles ache,” I blurt out and hold up my feet to distract him, just in case.

  He eyes my feet. I can tell from the look in his gold-green eyes he's worried. “The ankle thing is normal, but you'll tell me if the tired part becomes unlivable. We don't have to stay here. We worked a long day and—”

  “No…I'm good.” I insist. “Look, Michelle's bombed out of the contest.” I'm happy that he cares. That he knows me. But no way do I want this date to end—no matter how tired. I smile and try to joke. “Are all of our dates going to be this sporty? My dad wants to know.”

  “Yes. Unless it's too much for you?”

  “What are you planning next?”

  “ThunderLand. Saturday. We're all going. You, with me. Michelle with Corey. A few other couples might meet up with us there. It's tradition. I know we have this contract between us but I really want you to come—with me—as my date. Will you?”

  He sounds so earnest…like he's worried I'm going to turn him down. “We already talked about this outing as part of our contract, so of course I'll come.” I say, “But if I can't make it, I'll let you delete one weekend from the list. Deal?”

  “Why wouldn't you be able to come?” His face falls like I've said the wrong thing, and I suddenly can't read his expression anymore.

  “The contract is in crisis. The parents said they have to meet you, or should I say they want to meet one Corey Nash face-to-face before we have any other dates. Someone's supposed to make good and shake my dad's hand. That someone needs to look exactly like Corey Nash from the yearbook.”

  Gray pales. “Oh no…”

  “Oh yes. Epic, family barbecue. Next Sunday. My dad's already planned the menu. That's the day after ThunderLand. I'd rather skip that date weekend. Avoid the barbecue completely, make you fake sick or something and try to prolong our contract for another two weeks or so.”

  “Crap. If you don't come, I might as well not go. And that would be completely sad.” He scrunches his face into a pout.

  “It sounds like a long day for me, anyhow. The hiking thing almost did me in. I'd probably ruin your fun unless there's a special napping area in the amusement park?”

  “I'll let Corey or Michelle drive. You can sleep in the car both ways. If you're too tired we'll simply stop and hang out until the others are finished. As for your parents, tell them it's not a date. It's a bunch of people going to ThunderLand. Friends. General, normal, summer fun. Tell them you're going with the ‘golly-gee-nice-gang’ you've invented. Of course we'll pick you up with Corey in tow. As long as we're quick we should be able to manage an appropriate ‘Corey sighting’. That should put them off, right?”

  I smile and almost crack up, remembering the look on Gray's face when my parents almost attacked his car in the driveway. “Maybe…but whomever drives better not have a stick shift vehicle. Dork.”

  He laughs. “Whatever. It will be easy for me to fake some cotton candy overload and pull a tummy-ache-no-show the next day for the barbecue. Then we can have a fight or something and that way you'll still get a couple more weeks without me needing to show up at your house?”

  “You make it sound so simple.” I lean back and nod. This idea might just work. “If we're still alive after Mr. Foley and the LightStick project chews us up and spits us out next week, I'll do it!”

  “Yes!” He beams. “Awesome.”

  Goosebumps tickle my spine when he smiles deep into my eyes. “Swear you'll fake sick, though. Make it believable? Maybe even talk to my mom on the phone to give your regrets the next day?”

  “I could do that. No problem.” His smile dims slightly.

  I don't blame him. My mom is scary. I stretch my back. “Oww. Everything hurts.”

  “Where? Here, especially?” He reaches forward and squeezes the muscle just above my knee.

  “Yes, there. Oww. Stop!”

  “Or how about here?” He moves in on the other leg.

  “Don't even!” I haul onto his forearm to stop a second squeeze just as Michelle skates in and plops down next to us.

  “Aww. Aren't you two just the cute-cuddly-skater-daters? If you were about to kiss, save it. Your moment is ruined.” She laughs and moves closer so she can see the rink through the thinning crowd. “Aren't you going to watch Corey take the limbo trophy?”

  “He's won it three times. In case you didn't notice, I'm really comfortable here in my girlfriend's arms.” Gray has moved his hand casually onto my knee and I realize I'd been practically hugging him. It must look as though Gray and I are getting very close. My heart races. I let one hand drop to my lap, but then I force myself to remain still and leave my other hand on Gray's arm. I try to keep my expression calm and lean into him as though I'm completely used to hanging all over him. He smells amazing…again.

  Always. Ugh!

  Gray's fingers trail across my knee and I gasp, feeling almost burned where he's touching me. He tosses me a wink as he does it again. “Ahh, Jess Jordan's ticklish. Good to know,” he whispers, and his breath is hot against my ear.

  Goosebumps. Butterflies. Panic.

  “Uh. Michelle, do you want the rest of my Coke?” I pull away from Gray and offer the giant cup to Michelle, knowing full well my entire face has just flamed cherry red.

  “Thought you'd never ask!” Michelle takes it and flips the plastic top. “Limbo'
s a workout,” she says between gulps. I toss Gray a glare and he winks at me again, adding in one of his amused smiles like he knows he's rattled me. Michelle continues, “Corey's only winning the trophies to impress me. He told me so.” She looks up, pausing to chew on an ice cube. “It's kind of cute, really.”

  “Would you go out with him already? You're reaching cruelty status,” Gray chides.

  “A couple more limbo trophies and I just might give him a chance,” Michelle says.

  Gray laughs and moves in close to me again. He takes one of the hands I've fisted tightly in my lap and opens my fingers until they rest flat against his. I figure he's trying to remind me to look relaxed in front of Michelle so I uncurl my other fist and remember to breathe. I feel like I've swallowed a helium balloon. There's a chance I might simply float up to the ceiling and not be able to stop myself. I manage another long, calm breath.

  “I'm glad Jess didn't make me wait forever to date her,” Gray says, tossing me a wink. I'm sure he's just working to fill the awkward silence I've created.

  “Michelle, the summer's almost half over. Give Corey a break,” I add. “The guy's bonkers for you.”

  “Maybe I'm really enjoying how hard he's working. If I give in, I'm worried he'll stop all the cute stuff he's been doing to get my attention. Do you know he sent me flowers?”

  Gray frowns. “If you don't invite my man to the ‘couples skate’, you're going to break his heart. He told me you dogged him last week and skated with a random twelve-year old.”

  “Hey, that was a charity case. I couldn't say no to that kid. I explained that to Corey. The kid asked me first.”

  The crowd cheers and then breaks into applause. We hear Corey announced as winner over the loudspeaker.

  In seconds, Corey skates up, dips onto one knee and offers a small plastic trophy to Michelle. “My lady. Your prize,” he says, comically bowing his head as though she's the queen of England.

  Michelle, biting back a smile, takes the trophy. “You rock, Nash.”

  “Thanks.”

  The room dims as the flashing colored lights are replaced with silver-white, spinning circles of light created by the rink's giant disco ball.