Bebe punched me in the arm. “I swear, if your head got any bigger, we wouldn’t be able to fit you in the car every morning. Of course, you could use your big noggin full of hot air to float yourself to school…” she trailed off.
“Hey, you’re the one who made me promise never to lie to you again.” I held my hands up in mock innocence. “I’m just being honest, per your instructions.” Bebe rolled her eyes, letting me know exactly how monstrous she thought my ego was. I loved it when she gave me attitude; it made me want to sweep her up and prove to her that she wasn’t immune to my charms.
“Seriously, though,” I continued, “aren’t you at least a little flattered?”
Bebe’s face turned pink, with embarrassment. “Flattered doesn’t even begin to express how I feel. I’m completely flabbergasted.” She looked down at the table. “I’m having a hard time believing that someone really thinks those things about me.”
“Don’t be so humble. I’m sure there’s plenty of guys who think that about you.”
“Oh yeah? Name one.”
“Well, for one, I think you’re all the same things that Mr. Mysterious does.” Holy flaming bag of cow dung. Did I just say that out loud? Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.
Bebe looked startled for a moment, then shook her head and laughed. “Yeah, but whoever wrote that note thinks those things in an ‘I want to have your babies’ kind of way, not an ‘I love you like my baby sister’ kind of way. Two completely different kinds of babies here.”
What the freak? If I wasn’t a gentleman, I’d have bopped her on the top of her cute little head. Jog some sense into her brain. Nothing I thought about her had ever put her in the little sister zone. I’d wanted her to have my babies since I was fourteen years old. I can’t believe I was about to say this, but clearly the thought of me loving her wasn’t going to prove her worth to her. I nodded my head toward the table where Brady and Mike were getting settled. “I’m pretty sure Brady doesn’t think of you in a strictly platonic manner…”
Bebe bit her lip as she turned her head to look at Brady. I was probably going to regret that comment later, but she looked ready to concede.
“You think Brady likes me?” she asked, as if the thought hadn’t ever crossed her mind.
“Bebe, the guy’s not even subtle about it.”
“Do you think he’s the one who wrote the note?”
“Hold on now, I didn’t say that.” I wasn’t about to let Brady get the credit for my swoon worthy literary masterpiece. “Brady doesn’t seem like the secret admirer type. I think if he liked you, he’d just come right out and say it.”
Bebe thought for a moment longer and then turned back to me. “I guess you’re right. I mean, he’s always been pretty direct whenever we talk, and he isn’t very shy about flirting.”
“I think he’s absolutely shameless around you. He’s way too forward,” I complained.
“Oh hush, Cam. Brady’s a nice guy. It’s nothing but harmless flirting.”
“As harmless as mine?”
Her face got pink again. I couldn’t tell if she was thinking about my flirting or boy wonder’s. I’d had enough of this conversation. If I couldn’t rein it in, she’d go home and start pining away for the wrong guy. “I don’t think your admirer is Brady. Actually, I’m sure it’s not Brady.”
“Well, if it’s not Brady, then who could it be?” She looked genuinely puzzled, and I sighed inwardly.
“I don’t know, Bebe. Maybe you’ll get another clue tomorrow?” She’d definitely get another clue tomorrow. One that was way too awesome for the walking toothpaste ad to come up with. Honestly, Brady was a decent guy. I shouldn’t be such an a-hole to him, even if it was mostly internally. Any other girl, and I wouldn’t give two craps about it. I’d even be ok if he dated Beth. But Bianca Barnes was off limits.
. . . . .
After the girls and I pulled into their driveway, I headed straight home, spouting off a half-truth about tons of homework. I went in the front door and looked out the window until I’d seen that they were gone. Knowing Bebe, she probably headed straight for the kitchen. She could hold her own when it came to eating after a hard workout. Since the kitchen faced the backyard, I had a very small window where I could sneak out without being noticed. I went to the garage and pulled out the old bike. The store was only a mile away, but I really did have a lot of homework, and I had no idea how long this would take.
As I walked in, my mind was drawing a blank. I strolled through the food aisles. Candy seemed so cliché. Then I headed past the ultra tiny floral department. Flowers were kind of cliché, too. Besides, if I wanted to get her flowers, I’d have to get them from somewhere else because the selection here was puny.
I walked through clothes and toys, but those were an obvious no. Then I headed to sporting goods, where I contemplated for a while before deciding that my original assessment was still accurate. Basketball paraphernalia, while practical, was not likely to send the right message. Neither were housewares, so I skipped the entire middle of the store.
I was about to complete the perimeter lap as I approached the media section. I walked past books and magazines and started thumbing through the DVDs. That’s when I saw it: a copy of Hoosiers. It was Bebe’s second favorite basketball movie, right behind Love & Basketball. I happen to know that her current copy has so many scratches that it’s pretty much worthless. It’s an iconic movie. Anyone who knows Bebe’s into basketball, which is everyone, could have picked it. That means I wouldn’t be completely revealing myself.
It was the best idea I’d come up with so far, but it still seemed kind of lame to give her only a movie. I grabbed the DVD and kept walking, making my way to the front of the store where there was a vending machine. All this thinking and wandering was making my brain hurt. Maybe some caffeine would help me gain inspiration.
I put my money in the machine and pushed the button for a Dr Pepper. If Bebe was here, she’d have insisted I get Diet Coke so she could drink most of it. And I’d have done it because I’m whipped. Maybe I should put the movie back and buy her a few two-liters of Diet Coke. Or maybe I could get her the Diet Coke to go with the movie? Heck, why not grab some popcorn, too?
The idea hit me like a ton of bricks. Instead of just getting her one of her favorite movies, I could get her a whole date package. To be shared with me upon revealing who I was, of course. I could make it fancy, like a gift basket. Chicks like that kind of stuff, right? I know my mom did, but I’m not sure she was young enough to be considered a chick. I needed confirmation from a less geriatric source. I pulled out my phone to text Beth.
C: So I want to get Bebe a gift, but I’m not sure what to get. I was thinking of putting together a gift basket with her favorite movie, popcorn, candy, Diet Coke, etc. Then suggest we use it together. Is that a lame idea?
B: No way. I love it. Totally cute. You come up with that all by yourself? ;-)
C: Yes, I’m not completely useless.
B: I think she’ll like it. Not too sappy or overwhelming, but personal and fun.
C: Glad you approve, cuz assembling a gift basket will challenge my membership in the man club. If anyone finds out, they’ll pull my card for sure.
B: Well, then, I guess mum’s the word.
C: Thanks.
I put my phone back in my pocket and grabbed a shopping cart. I had the movie; now I just needed the snacks. I’m a Dr Pepper junkie and Bebe knows that, so just to be safe, I grabbed a regular Coke to go with the diet one I’d picked up for her. I also grabbed a three-pack of microwave popcorn and some candy. Bebe’s favorite is Junior Mints. I know this, but I don’t think it’s as common knowledge as her Diet Coke addiction. If I picked up the Junior Mints, would she realize it was me? I decided to play it safe and went with a random assortment of chocolate. Now I needed a basket.
I figured I could find something in the home decor section that I’d previously skipped. When I got there, I looked around, making sure the coast w
as clear, as if I were about to commit some heinous crime. Then I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head. If I ran into someone I knew, it would be very bad. I’m not sure how I’d explain the fact that I was shopping for a decorative basket. I headed up the aisle, grabbed the first thing that looked big enough, and got out of there as fast as I could.
Once I was safely away from the home decor, I stopped and arranged my items in the basket to see how it would look. All the important elements were there, but it was still lacking appeal. It looked too plain. Like a helpless teenage boy put it together. What was I missing? I thought back to all the gift baskets my mom had received or put together over the years. They always had something fluffy in the bottom, like dried grass or fancy paper pieces for the gift items to sit on. And every last one of them had a big-ass bow on the top.
“Damn it. You have got to be kidding me.” I swore out loud as I realized what I’d have to do. I’d already risked enough by shopping for home decor, and now I had to go to the craft section and buy ribbon? I hope Bebe appreciated this dumb basket. Once I picked up some ribbon and fake grass, I’d need to head to the women’s underwear section and buy myself a bra.
After securing the last items I needed, at great risk to my reputation, I went to the checkout and placed everything on the belt. The cashier was a college-age guy. Why couldn’t it have been a girl? I could’ve told her what I was doing and probably ended up getting her phone number. Instead, some douche who looked like the long-lost member of One Direction looked at me, looked down at my purchase, looked back up at me, and raised his eyebrow in question.
“It’s a present for my best friend…who happens to be a girl…” I don’t know why I felt like I had to defend myself. I should be confident enough in my masculinity to buy all the pink polka-dot ribbon I wanted.
“Riiiiight…” the cocky cashier responded with a smirk.
What the hell? Could this be any more horrifying? The guy bagged my items and then looked up at me, considering something before he spoke. “I better double bag these for you. You know, so nobody sees what’s inside. Hate for you to run into your ‘friend’ and ruin the surprise.”
His hands were busy with my bag, but his voice clearly suggested the air quotes around the word friend. I didn’t bother thanking him as I took my bag and headed out the door. I hoped Bebe responded well. I’d hate to think I’d made a fool of myself for nothing.
BIANCA
Cameron had told me I was beautiful. And funny and amazing. Ok, he didn’t actually say it, but he openly agreed with my mysterious letter writer, and I thought that should count. I know it’s not the same when you say those things about a friend as it is when you say them about someone you’re romantically interested in. But for the rest of the day yesterday, I’d pretended that Cam was my secret admirer. That he’d been pining away for me since the day we met. I fantasized about him telling me in person and then sweeping me into his arms and kissing me senseless. I’d told myself that I could have one afternoon of daydreams before I had to come back to reality. It wasn’t very fair to my real secret admirer if I pretended he was someone else.
I woke up Thursday morning with the letter still on my mind, or more accurately, the letter writer. Who was he, and would he ever reveal himself? The unknown was driving me nuts. No one came forward about it being a joke, no TV host jumping out when I least expected it. It seemed that someone out there really did like me.
I was a little worried that my secret admirer would be somebody weird or gross. Or maybe a super nerd like Josh Sutton. I know it’s shallow, but was it too much to hope that he’s super hot and cool? Or, at the very least, just super hot? What if the guy asked me out? After pouring his heart out to me, I couldn’t say no. That would majorly suck. I got ready for the morning on autopilot and went down to the kitchen. Cam walked in as I was spreading cream cheese on my bagel.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He greeted me, then plucked the bagel out of my hands. Rather than complaining, I put another one in the toaster. “Wow. No argument? No physical abuse? No nasty name calling?” He took a bite of my breakfast as he placed his free hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling ok this morning?”
I swatted it away. “I’m fine. Just distracted, that’s all.”
“Could it have something to do with a certain love letter?”
“Could it? How could it be anything else? You read it. Either this person is a sociopath or the sweetest guy on the planet. I hope for my sake it’s the latter, but with my luck, you never know…”
Beth responded as she rushed into the kitchen. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Bea. He’s probably totally normal, and when you find out who it is, you’ll feel silly for worrying.” She grabbed an apple and banana out of the fruit bowl and headed for the side door. “Come on, slowpokes; I was late to first period yesterday.”
I grabbed my new bagel, then shot Cam a glare, warning him of imminent death should he touch this one. He followed me to the car. “Maybe now that he got the hard part out of the way, he’ll tell you who he is?” Cam reassured me as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Besides, you’re forgetting something very important.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You have me. And I have it on good authority that I make an excellent fake date.” His dimples came out. “If he’s a weirdo, you can tell him you already have a boyfriend, but thanks anyway.” He seemed pleased with his idea.
“And you, my friend, are forgetting something important as well,” I countered.
“Which is?”
“That your fake homecoming date turned into a real one because you had to keep up pretenses. If I told this guy we’re dating, we’d have to actually date. At least for a little while, so I didn’t look like a lying jerk.”
We’d reached the car, and Cam opened the back door for me. He leaned on it, pinning me with his stare. “I could think of a lot worse things than dating you.”
I held his gaze. Call me crazy, but in that second, he looked sincere. Like he might actually want to be my boyfriend. My brain melted, and my heart pumped faster. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. After a second, I realized that he was still staring at me and I was staring back. I shook my head. It isn’t real, Bianca. Don’t let your heart play games with your head. It will only make you miserable. I had to stop thinking like this. I was a victim of torture, but the torturer was myself.
I slid into the backseat. Cam shut the door, then got in front. I was quiet as we headed to school. Determined to focus my thoughts on healthier things. I thought about Brady. Cam had suggested that Brady liked me. I assumed that all the flirting and joking was a friendly gesture, but what if it wasn’t? What if he really did like me? What if he was my secret admirer? That wouldn’t be so bad.
Brady is fun, sweet, and way good-looking. His smile is amazing. Plus, we have quite a bit in common, even besides basketball. I enjoyed talking to him and spending time with him. I decided right then and there that I was going to stop living in the clouds and start dating in reality. I was going to show Brady I was interested in him. Besides, I still needed a date to the homecoming dance. Maybe if I played my cards right, he’d ask me.
We pulled into school and parked in our usual spot. Cam opened my door for me again, and I thanked him as I stepped out. He’d been quite the gentleman this morning. What had gotten into him? “What’s with all the special treatment this morning?” I asked. “Opening my doors for me? Who are you, and what have you done with my Cameron?”
“Your Cameron is still in here. He’s just decided not to let some dumb secret admirer outdo him.” His comment was playful, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a hint of jealousy in it.
The three of us arrived at our lockers, and when I opened mine, I gasped at what I found. “What the heck?” Sitting inside, on top of my books, was a gift basket.
Beth leaned around my door and started squeaking. Her words were indecipherable other than to convey a heightened sense of excitement
. “Oh, Bea.” She finally got out, “He got you a present.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I assessed that I should be reacting similarly to Beth. What if he was watching? He’d be disappointed at my lack of enthusiasm. But all I could think about was how he got into my locker. Another note would have been easy to slip in through the vents, but to put a whole basket in means that my secret admirer needed my combination. I did a quick scan of the hall. There were loads of kids, but nobody seemed to be paying particular attention to us.
“Hang on a second, Beth,” Cam spoke up. “Maybe we should check and make sure it’s actually from the same guy.”
“Get real, Cam.” Yes, I snorted… “You honestly think this could be from someone else? One secret admirer is shocking enough, but two of them fighting for my affections is a physical impossibility.”
I reached into my locker and pulled out the basket. It was really sweet. Someone had gone through a lot of effort to make it personalized. It had a DVD of the movie Hoosiers, one of my favorites, along with all the provisions for a movie night: popcorn, candy, and even a Diet Coke. It was so personal that there’s no way he bought the basket as is. Whoever this guy was, he actually put it together himself. Complete with decorative grass in the bottom and a big pink polka-dot bow on the top. A bow that’d been handmade. The contents of the basket were thoughtful, but I was even more impressed by the effort. Hanging from the basket was a little note card. I read it out loud.
I hope you like this movie as much as I do. I’m also hoping you’ll keep the basket and goodies someplace safe for now. Maybe we can get together soon for a movie date. :-)
Yours -?
“Well, that didn’t help solve the mystery,” I grumbled.
“Bea, why are you always so negative? You focused on the one bad thing. This guy just asked you out. In the sweetest way imaginable. Aren’t you at least a tiny bit excited?” Beth’s bottom lip stuck out in a serious pout, and I gave in a little.
Perfectly Oblivious (The Perfect Series Book 1) Page 12
