Not Okay, Cupid

by Heidi R. Kling

  “No. Not at all like that. I hate Jay’s guts. Kimmy and Jay are major cheaters. Slimeballs. Worse than slimeballs. And I would never be on a macrobiotic diet.”

  Mom laughed. “You are nothing if not hilarious, my dear.”

  “Thank you, mi madre.”

  And that was that.

  Mom wouldn’t say anything about any of it. Not about Jay, not about scheming Kimmy, and not about my fake boyfriend Felix the Cat.

  “But this whole thing with Felix is fake, right?” She took my hands in hers. “I mean, you aren’t going to really…”

  “Kiss him?”

  “Yeah. Because cooties,” she said with a big-eyed laugh.

  “Little too late for that.” I blush-groaned, and then I filled her in on that embarrassing part, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Felix

  Leaning against the wall across from her locker, I watched Hazel for a while as she fiddled with her locker. Her expression kept changing from pissed-off furrowed brows to…happy…like she was thinking about something good. Then she’d remember those D-bags and what they did, and her brows would get all scrunched up and pissed again. It was like a silent movie or something. Completely mesmerizing.

  I wanted to make her happy.

  Keep that face for a while. Perpetually, maybe.

  Then he walked up. Jay. Master of deception. King of cheaters. Emperor of dogshit.

  “Hey, Hazel,” he said to her, leaning in.

  She looked so flustered. I wanted to kill him.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  “To say…” He ran his dumb hand through his even dumber-looking hair. His hand looked so sad and lonely without his douche tennis racquet in it.

  I almost laughed out loud at that thought. But I didn’t want Baze to see me lurking like that stalker sparkling vampire my sister and Baze were into in their tweens (thank God that series was over, if I had to watch that shirtless kid flex his juiced-up muscles one more time…)

  “To say what?” Baze shouted in a very un-Baze-like tone.

  “Sorry, okay!” But he said it in a way a spoiled kid would. Like he wasn’t sorry at all.

  “I know it will be hard to get over me.” Gah. This guy didn’t know when to quit. “But you have to. Me and Kimmy are in love. And I’m taking her to the Valentine’s Day Dance. And hopefully we’ll win Cupid and Arrow.”

  Basil looked at him. Shock and awe. Cupid and Arrow was this dumb tradition we had for our Valentine’s Day dance. Akin to Prom King and Queen, the guy was crowned Cupid and had to wear a big saggy diaper, and the girl held a golden bow and arrow. It was totally lame, but all the girls were really into it. And, I thought mockingly, some of the boys, apparently.

  Just when I thought Baze would find the thought of Jay in a saggy diaper as hilarious as I did, her eyes steamed over like she was about to cry. That’s when she reeled her hand back and socked him in the eye.

  It was amazing!

  I couldn’t help myself. After I got over the initial shock, I started to clap. Slow clap to really dig it in.

  She looked over at me, all shiny-eyed and delirious—I doubt she’d ever made contact with a person in her life with the goal of damaging them, outside of me at age nine, whom she’d repeatedly kicked in the shins. But I digress…

  “Well done, Hon,” I said, approaching, continuing the slow dramatic clap before I dropped my hands and reached my arm around her. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled her in for a nice slow kiss. And instead of slugging me—it was fifty-fifty even with the pact, I mean, I’d repulsed her for years—Baze kissed me back. Kissed me so hard that I felt it in my knees. This girl could kiss.

  After, when we finally slowed down and separated (believe me, I didn’t want to, but the stupid bell rang), the douche stood there, slack-jawed and dumbfounded once again.

  “I don’t think she’s missing you a bit,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and an eyebrow raised for emphasis. “But good luck with that whole king and queen thing. Sounds really ambitious. And a worthy cause.”

  His face turned bright red, and I swear he wanted to belt me.

  But he wouldn’t do that.

  Instead he stomped away. Basil turned to me, giggling and flushed and cute as hell.

  “Did I really…punch him?”

  “Sure did, Baze. A red-hot knuckle sandwich. Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “Oh, you’ve pissed me off plenty,” she said, but she was smiling goofily.

  “Guess I’m just lucky then,” I said, leaning into her ear, my voice all low.

  “It’s okay, Felix,” she said, pressing my chest away from her. “He’s gone. You don’t have to pretend to like me anymore.”

  I backed off. “Oh. Right.”

  Now it was me tugging on my hair.

  Baze just…did this to me.

  I had to constantly remind myself that I was just part of a revenge game to her.

  Just a game. Hmm.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “You know Jay’s little king and queen plan? I mean Cupid and Arrow?”

  “Yeah. Asshat. Why does he keep rubbing it in? It’s like he has zero social graces. Was he always like that, this complete jerk, was I just blind to it because I loved him?”

  “I don’t know, Baze. But I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  I paused for effect, and then when she looked like she was about to sock me if I didn’t spill, I told her the plan.

  “What if we tried to beat them to it?” I waggled my eyebrows evilly. “Throw out the old monarchy, so to speak.”

  “You mean us try to win Cupid and Arrow at the Valentine’s Day Dance? Us. You and me? I don’t think we’d stand a chance, Felix. First of all, no one knows we’re ‘together’…” She air quoted that one, and I gently pushed her fingers back down. “Secondly, who would ever vote for us? We aren’t exactly Best Couple contenders.”

  “Why not? We have as good a chance as anyone. We have at least as good a chance as them. No one knows they’re together, either. Not really. And they’re both cheaters! Who would ever vote for a cheater? Cheaters suck!”

  “That’s true. Cheaters do suck.” She said it emphatically, and I knew she was referencing more than just Jay and Kimmy. She meant my dad, too. She’d been there when we were all falling apart over his infidelity. And with a flight attendant no less! I hadn’t flown since.

  I preferred trains. Actually, I preferred staying in town, my truck, and my surfboard, yet, I digress. I had another point to make.

  “And we don’t suck,” I said emphatically.

  “No. Of course we don’t. But like I said, no one really knows we’re together.”

  “Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we? Be more public? Be more…I don’t know. Couple-y.”

  “More couply.”

  “Yes,” I said with a firm nod. “More couply.” I moved toward her, about to kiss her again. But she frowned and, to my surprise, pushed me away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hazel

  Was it just me, or did Felix look upset when I pushed him away?

  The kiss for Jay’s benefit was…again…magnificent. The boy could kiss. Again, I could see why the girls were lining up to pick a number for an afternoon with this boy, but it wasn’t real. It was a game. And I couldn’t let the fact that I was finding myself physically attracted to my fake boyfriend deter me from the task at hand: driving my two exes bat-shit insane.

  Felix held up his hands in mock defense. “Are you going to slug me like you did Jay?”

  “Maybe. Did you see his face? Man, what I wouldn’t give to have that on video.”

  “Sorry.” Felix patted down his khaki shorts. “No cells on campus.”

  “Probably smart.”

  “Probably.”

  We stood there awkwardly for a minute. He shoved his hands in his pockets. I bit my lip.

  “So, see you after schoo
l?” I finally said.

  “Okay.”

  “What should we do?”

  “What do you normally do with your girlfriends?” I asked.

  His eyes popped open, and he did this cute half-grin thing.

  “Oh right. Manwhore.”

  “Unfair,” he said in a tone that made me know it was perfectly fair.

  “Man slut?”

  “Slut-shaming ain’t cool, Baze. Didn’t you get the memo?”

  “You’re right.”

  “No double standard now,” he said, waggling his finger in my face.

  I grabbed his finger and twisted it back until he yelled mercy—one of my favorite Felix torture games from when we were kids.

  He yelled and I let him go with a laugh.

  “So do you seriously never take your girlfriends out on proper dates?”

  “I don’t have girlfriends,” he said.

  I blinked. “What?”

  “I don’t have girlfriends.”

  He knew I wasn’t born yesterday. “Who are all those girls you’re driving around with then? Leaving campus with? Hiding in your room?”

  I knew him way too well, and he knew it. He couldn’t BS his way out of this with me.

  “They are my…female companions.”

  I burst out laughing. “Ah. I see. And they’re okay with this fine title?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you ever ask them?”

  “Of course not.”

  Now it was Felix who was laughing. He had a nice laugh. Not too high, not too low, just right. Like Goldilocks finding that right temperature porridge after two previous tries…and then the perfectly sized chair…and then the perfectly sized bed…

  Hazel!

  Stop thy mind from wandering there.

  This. That. Kissing. Is as far as this is going to go.

  “So what did you and your creepy ex douchebag do for fun? And nothing over PG-13, please. My delicate mind can’t go there.” Felix dared me extrapolate.

  “Ha. Please. So we’d do normal things, I don’t know: dinner, movies, school functions, picnics at the beach at sunset…he was quite romantic.” Sometimes. Once in a while, anyway. But I wasn’t going to confess all that to Felix James.

  “Great. So now I get to relive all of this with my sister? All this faux chivalry?”

  “It wasn’t…it wasn’t…I didn’t think it was fake at the time. And with Kimmy…I don’t really want to think about that, okay.”

  “Sure. Sure, Baze.” He looked all flustered, like he had no idea what to do with an upset girl. And he didn’t! He didn’t spend any time out of the Mack truck express. Picturing the two of them—Kimmy and Jay— at the drive-in (one of the last in California; I’m a very nostalgic person), taking long walks on the beach at sunset (I’d bring brownies, he’d bring leftover BBQ chicken), Jay asking me questions about college, about our futures, and me really answering, or at least pretending to answer. And him listening. Well, at least pretending to listen. Ugh. Crap. It was just so…hopeless…and futile. How could he be in love with my best friend?

  It was all so unfair and frustrating.

  “So. How about we meet at the soda fountain? Make a new memory?” the boy who looked exactly like Felix the Alley Cat offered up.

  “Did you just get abducted by space aliens? Like this very second whilst I was standing here feeling sorry for myself? Because the Felix I know doesn’t even know what a soda fountain is, never mind how to ask a girl to go to one with him.”

  He blinked. “I know what a soda fountain is! In fact, I like cream soda. I go there with my mom.”

  “You go there with your mom?”

  “Yes. I like the red spinny chairs.”

  “You slay me, Felix. You seriously slay me.”

  “So…” He leaned in. Were his eyes really that green? Jesus. “Is it a fake date?”

  “Yes,” I said, sucking in a breath. “It’s a fake date.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Felix

  I wasn’t kidding about the soda fountain.

  It’s this great little spot downtown that was remodeled to look like a genuine soda fountain place from the fifties—you know, the black-and-white checkered tiles, the cooks in white hats and checkered pants, vinyl shimmering booths the color of candy apples. I’d been going there with my mom and Kimmy since I was a kid. I’d have a bad day, bad grade, gotten picked on at school. Anything bad, Mom would take me there. She’d give me two quarters for the jukebox and let me order whatever I wanted: burger, fries, a cream soda, chocolate shake, more fries (hey, I’m a big eater), and whatever was bothering me just washed away.

  I was hoping the soda fountain would help Baze the same way it helped me, and now that I had an outlined plan for us—oh, God, being around Hazel so much was seriously affecting me! —I needed to start implementing it.

  Cupid and Arrow.

  How hard would it be?

  I pictured myself on the auditorium stage in the giant diaper and no shirt. The no shirt thing would be no prob. My abs and chest were in great shape from surfing, but the giant diaper… Hmm. Well, if anyone could pull it off, it’d be me. And it’d be worth it for Hazel to get her revenge.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hazel

  I hadn’t gone to the Soda Fountain since I was a kid.

  It was this retro place, kitschy, cool—but since Jay was so into health food, I’d struck it off my list of fun places to go. This was the one reason my mom and Jay got along, he turned his nose up at the classic burger and fries joint—since Mom disallowed red meat in the house, period. Me? God. Just the smell of the grilling burgers upon entering the diner made me drool.

  No sign of Felix. He wouldn’t stand me up. Right? I mean, this whole fake-date- relationship thing was his idea.

  I checked my phone. I was right on time, but the place was crowded with families and tween kids putting pennies in their chocolate malts, and laughing hysterically. This behavior was met with mostly disinterest from the employees who were busy getting other people’s orders ready.

  The jukebox was playing that Taylor Swift song about getting even with the cheating ex by pounding his headlights out with a crowbar. It was a catchy tune, so I knew it just from it randomly coming on the radio all the time, but the country song was completely athematic with the 1950s restaurant and fit perfectly with my revenge mode. Not to mention Felix’s new plan about Cupid and Arrow. So I knew right away who’d pushed that button.

  Felix, grinning like the sneaky cat he was, stretched his long legs out of a vinyl both and rose to greet me. Our eyes met across the room.

  “I knew you’d like this one,” he said.

  I grinned as I approached the table. “Got a crowbar I can borrow?”

  Felix stretched out his long, muscled arm and flexed. “This is all the crowbar you need, baby.”

  I laughed out loud.

  “Go on. Check it out for size.”

  Encouraging me to give his nicely muscled biceps a squeeze only dissuaded me from doing so. “No way am I feeding your already inflated ego, my friend.”

  “Come on now…see if it’s up to par.”

  “Up to par?”

  “With your left hook!” he said, and then he squeezed my arm, which was anything but muscle-bound.

  I laughed again. “You’re never going to stop talking about that, are you?”

  “Me? Never! It was the best thing that happened at school all year. Well,” he said, peering deeply into my eyes in that way of his that made my knees and stomach and everything else betray me and go weak, “the second best thing.”

  His eyes flickered down to my mouth, and he did that little eyebrow-raise thing, so I had to slug him.

  We were just like ten-year-olds!

  “Come on,” he said without missing a beat. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me gently up to the counter. “It’s on me. Order up. You’re too skinny anyhow.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah. You never were
before. You used to be very…healthy-looking.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Chubby. I was chubby. You can say it. Just don’t say the F-word or my mom will kick your butt.”

  “The F-word?”

  “Fat.”

  He whistled, the sound like a bomb falling out of the sky. “Ah. Believe me, I won’t. I don’t want to mess with yo mama, but you were never overweight—at least not in my eyes. You always looked great. Too many girls are too skinny nowadays anyway. What’s the point? Guys don’t even like too skinny.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Totally.” He nodded. “It’s other girls who give girls this weird street cred for being thin.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Why do you think that?”

  “Kimmy.”

  “Kimmy?”

  “Yes, Kimmy. My sister. She’s the one who I see poring over all these magazines of skinny ladies. And her friends—her friends other than you anyway—are always complimenting her on seeing her ribs and all this weird crap.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  Kimmy was my best friend. She was thin—I guess maybe too thin now. I’d been so busy I hadn’t really noticed—was she doing that to please her new friends? Yikes.

  “It’s super-weird.”

  “Jay likes thin though,” I said.

  “Jay’s a dipshit.”

  “That he is. But you broke my mom’s no-cursing rule.”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “But she isn’t here, is she?”

  “You’re a bad boy, Felix James.”

  “It’s my best trait.”

  We were quiet for a second, and then I asked him if he thought I was the F-word.

  “No!” he protested, genuinely upset that I’d misinterpreted what was meant to be a compliment. “Just healthy. Like someone who eats actual food. Other than tofu on a bed of lettuce like the d-bag tennis pro, and my whackadoodle weed sister.”

  I laughed. “I am craving a burger. And thank you. For a bad-boy jerk, you’ve been really cool lately. I…I appreciate it.”

  He grinned. “Then order up, sistah. Go ahead. It’s on me.”