The Boyfriend Bracket

by Kate Evangelista

  “Okay … then,” she said, backing away a step. “I’ll just be on my way.”

  “No!” He caught himself. “I mean, do you really have to go?”

  Was it hope that he saw in her eyes? His heart hammered in his chest. Then came the words that made him want to dance, even though he was the worst dancer in the world.

  “I can stay.”

  He tilted his head toward the food trucks. “I was just about to grab lunch. Want to join me? My treat?”

  She smiled tentatively. “I can eat.”

  They found an empty picnic table. Will asked Stella what she wanted and said he would go grab their orders while she saved the table for them. She didn’t disappoint when she picked the pulled-pork spring rolls and the fried mac-and-cheese bites.

  Why he was smiling from ear to ear as he stood in line was lost to Will. He was just ordering food. Which he was about to eat. With Stella. What was there to smile about? The sun was shining. He had scored a signed comic book. Accidentally ran into the girl he couldn’t get out of his head. Small stuff. Good stuff.

  All throughout lunch, Will was ashamed of having done only three things. He ate. He mumbled or grunted replies to questions aimed his way. And he stared. If Stella hadn’t been so focused on enjoying her food, she would have totally caught him ogling her like an idiot.

  When had Stella—Slappy with the braids and braces—become drop-dead gorgeous? He’d liked her before, but now? She was goddamn dangerous. Who knew a summer without Cam or Will would allow Stella to come out of her shell? This was bad. It was really bad.

  “Oh, there’s pie!” Stella said. The excitement in her voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “My treat!”

  She opened her bag and grabbed her wallet. A small book fell out as she did so. Will was about to call her attention to it, but she had already scampered away to buy dessert. Curious, Will reached out for the book. It was handmade, and on the cover it said BOYFRIEND BRACKET in glittering letters.

  “What the hell?” He grimaced as he flipped through the book.

  Inside were pictures and information on eight guys. If Will remembered correctly, they all went to Oak Hills High. One of them had even been on the football team with him. The guy she was with at the frat party. On the back of the first four pages were notes in Stella’s cursive writing.

  For Tommy Larrabee, she’d written, “Give Tommy another chance. He’s a nice guy. Passionate.”

  For Kevin Marquez, she’d written, “Cute, but too self-involved. Totally no connection.”

  For Daniel Connors all she’d written was “Pervert.”

  And for the fourth guy, Joey Esposito, she’d written, “I like him.”

  Those three words were the worst of them all. They were three stabs in the gut for Will. Not only was she dating, but she had a roster of guys she had placed in a bracket so she could pick a boyfriend. Most of the guys in the book were total idiots. The kind he and Cam had worked hard to scare away from her.

  “Apple pie à la mode!” Stella announced like she had won a prize.

  In a panic, Will pocketed the book. He winced. He should have returned it to her bag when he’d had a chance. Now he was stuck.

  Instead of sitting opposite him like she had during lunch, Stella slid into the bench he was on. “Will? Don’t you want the pie?”

  His name from Stella’s sweet voice made all the nerve endings inside him pay attention. It was like a fireworks display beneath his skin. He was too aware of her. Aware of her citrus perfume and coconut shampoo.

  “Y-yeah,” he said.

  For the second it took her to hand him the pie, Will’s gaze never left her lips. He liked how pale pink they were against her skin. He wanted to punch himself for thinking how soft that mouth would be against his. Maybe as soft and smooth as her hair? Okay, weirdo, quit it.

  He gripped the plate so hard he was surprised the cardboard didn’t rip.

  “Okay.” Stella settled herself beside him.

  The sides of their thighs touched before Will moved to the farthest corner of the bench. Which wasn’t very far. There was barely an inch separating them. Will prayed for mercy as he dug into the pie. The ice cream’s coolness wasn’t enough to ease the furnace that his body had become.

  “Okay,” Stella repeated. “You’re officially acting weird. What’s going on?”

  It was weird, all right.

  Will swallowed wrong. A coughing fit had him doubling over. Stella placed an open palm on his back and slapped him repeatedly. Sweet Jesus, it was agony. He liked her touch so much that he hated himself for liking it. He forced himself to straighten. Then he cleared his throat.

  “I’m fine,” he squeaked out. More throat clearing. “I’m fine.”

  Stella studied him with a too-honest expression. “I don’t believe you.”

  He stifled a groan. She was stubborn like her brother. And too perceptive by half. It wasn’t like he could confront her about the book. He still hadn’t wrapped his mind around it. And over his dead body were they discussing how her skin was a beautiful contrast against his own and how all he wanted was to sink his fingers into her hair. But it was clear that Stella wasn’t about to drop the topic, so he went with the safest reason for his weirdness.

  “I’m stuck,” he said, staring at the slowly melting vanilla on the half-eaten pie.

  “Oh?” she encouraged.

  “There’s this story I’m writing.” She didn’t need to know about the comic. Will didn’t want to discover how she would react to finding out.

  “For school?”

  He nodded, hating himself for lying. He was years away from storyboarding, but she didn’t know that.

  “I wrote myself into a corner. My main character…” He paused, glancing at her. He liked that he was several inches taller, despite her long legs. Okay, huge mistake since she was looking up at him with that heart-shaped face. He immediately focused on the wood grain of the picnic table. “She was poisoned and lying helpless in a ravine with no hope of rescue.”

  “No antidote?”

  He loved how she immediately latched on to the idea. “None.”

  “What’s your story about that your character was poisoned?”

  At first, Will’s heart leaped out of his chest. How to tell her? But she had no idea about the comic. It was anonymous. And she wouldn’t know about his website unless he specifically told her about the link. Still, he needed to be careful.

  “My character is a witch hunter.”

  “Wow.”

  Her admiration made him feel strange, scary things. “So she’s faced with a lot of danger from the witches who want her dead.”

  “Ah, the poisoning.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. She was catching on fast. It was thrilling.

  A cute valley formed between her eyebrows. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. The wheels in her head were turning, and nothing seemed sexier to Will in that moment.

  In the guise of waiting for her response, he watched her unabashedly. Just for this afternoon. Will allowed himself this one time to be with her. Then it was back to school and, hopefully, forgetting this version of Stella existed.

  Soon enough, like the rising sun, Stella’s face brightened. “What if she’s immune?”

  “What?” It took Will a second to restart his brain and return his focus to their conversation.

  Stella smacked him playfully on the arm. “She’s immune to the poison. If she’s in danger all the time, it’s possible that she has taken precautions against poisoning. She can still feel its effects and suffer, but once the poison cycles through her system, she’ll be fine again.”

  Will put on his artist cap and ran through the scenario. It made sense. It was so simple. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  “You are brilliant! I could kiss you,” he said.

  He realized his mistake the instant the words left his mouth. The blush on her cheeks was so obvious. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “Stella … I…�
� What was he going to say? That yes, he did indeed want to kiss her? Or apologize when a part of him meant what he’d said?

  Just as he found himself about to give in to his urge to plant his lips on hers, an impish grin transformed Stella’s features. She took the fork from him and skewered a bit of apple that had fallen out of the pie and brought the piece to her mouth. After she’d chewed and swallowed happily, she said, “I better get a cut of your royalties when you get famous for this idea.”

  Like a balloon popping, the tension broke between them. Will stole back the fork and proceeded to scarf down the last of the dessert. Saved by the pie.

  FIVE

  NO JOKE

  By the end of the next school week, Stella was more than ready for the weekend. Franklin had been out since Wednesday for his Model UN conference in DC, and she missed him terribly. He had texted her that he had landed and was on his way back to her. And none too soon! Because she had been alone, the Salads had scented blood in the water and had been particularly vindictive that week. Wet gym clothes. Missing school books. And speaking of books, she had lost her Boyfriend Bracket booklet. Franklin was going to kill her!

  She sat in the middle of Nana’s living room, trying to retrace her steps. Where had she last seen the booklet? She’d definitely used it the night after leaving the frat party. She’d noticed it was gone on Tuesday. That was a lot of hours in between when she could have lost it.

  “Something the matter, my dear?” Nana asked, opening a second steamer trunk filled with clothes she had collected over the years.

  At the question, Stella wilted. “It’s just…”

  She was in vintage heaven, and she couldn’t fully appreciate it. When she had arrived looking down in the dumps, instead of their usual tea, Nana suggested she help her sort through clothes she was planning to give to Goodwill. With the help of Will, who had decided yet again to come home from UCLA to torture Stella—that was only in her head, of course—they had moved the coffee table aside. Nana had just sent him up to the attic for the third steamer trunk. Stella might have drooled a little watching him lug those trunks.

  Nana set aside the ruffled dress she was holding and inched closer, until she reached Stella’s side. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  “I’m just missing Franklin,” she said after a sigh. “He would have loved to see your dresses. They are all beautiful. I can’t imagine giving them away.”

  “You can have whichever you like.” Nana placed her hand on Stella’s. “But I get the feeling that’s not all that’s on your mind.”

  “Nana, please tell me this is the last of them?” Will asked as he entered the living room with the third steamer trunk hoisted on his shoulder, an arm around it. From the strain of Will’s biceps, Stella imagined it weighed a ton.

  Stella’s jaw practically unhinged from its sockets as she gawked at Will. In a white T-shirt and jeans, he reminded her of those Calvin Klein ads with #mycalvins in front and a model pretty much ripping off his T-shirt to showcase not only the jeans but also his abs. There wasn’t a show of abs in this case, but those biceps. It was torture. Yet she made no move to leave. She was happy right where she was.

  “Just place that over there.” Nana gestured to the last section of the living room floor that was free. She pushed to her feet and gave instructions. “Let’s make three piles for the clothes. There is Keep, Take, Donate. Keep will be the ones you think should stay with me. Take will be what Stella wants for herself. And Donate will be the clothes for Goodwill.”

  “How do we know which ones are—”

  “Stella will be in charge,” Nana said, interrupting Will’s question.

  “Where are you going?” Stella asked, throat suddenly dry for no reason.

  “I’m going out for garment bags. All the dresses will need them after they are sorted.” Nana smiled.

  Looking up at the beautiful bohemian in front of her, Stella caught the gleam in Nana’s eyes, but she didn’t quite understand what it was for. A part of her wanted to insist that Nana stay. Not leave her with Will. The flea market experience was enough for Franklin to lecture her for an hour straight about the merits of their bracket. The other part of her—the part where naughty thoughts came from—was glad Nana was leaving.

  “You’ll be fine,” Nana said, as if reading Stella’s mind. To Will, she said, “You mind what Stella says. She’s in charge of the clothes. You’re just the muscle.”

  Will rolled his eyes but still bent down to receive a kiss on the cheek from his grandmother. Stella’s heart melted. The love was real there. It was in every molecule between them.

  When the front door shut and Will returned from escorting Nana out, Stella busied herself with assessing the clothes. She wanted to keep them all, but she had no space. Plus she wasn’t that selfish. She knew the feeling of finding something wonderful at a thrift store. She was willing to share.

  “All right, boss,” Will said, opening the third trunk. “What’s the plan?”

  A flood of heat rushed through Stella. She liked Will calling her “boss” way too much. She almost forgot what she’d been about to say. “Take the dresses out of the trunk one by one and see if they have any stains or rips that need repairs. Then show them to me.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Another thrill went through Stella.

  In the hopes of not spontaneously combusting, she focused on sorting the dresses. They worked in semi-silence. Semi-because Will would once in a while ask her opinion on a dress. The routine brought back memories of her tough past few days.

  “What’s wrong?” Will asked as Stella folded a white dress with electric pleats on the skirt. That one she was definitely taking.

  Once again, she felt herself wilt. “Lemon Lambert’s being a monumental bitch, that’s all.”

  He scratched his cheek. “Isn’t she Lance Lambert’s sister?”

  Her nod was half-hearted. “Usually I can take the Salads’ bullying, but Franklin was out most of the week, so there’s no buffer. It’s stupid.”

  “Bullying is never stupid,” he said, scowling. “You should report it.”

  “Seriously.” She waved both her hands. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Mostly just trash in the locker. Hiding my books. Kids’ stuff. I only need to put up with it for a few more months, then it’s off to college.”

  “Doesn’t make it right.”

  “Will.” Her shoulders drooped.

  Sensing she needed a shift in topic, Will asked, “Have you sent out your applications?”

  “All but one.”

  “Which one?”

  She bit her lower lip. “Parsons.” Her stomach jiggled like jelly at the thought. She would never admit her insecurities to Franklin about getting in, but there was something about being with Will that made her feel … safe. That was the best word to describe it. “This school, it’s just really important, you know?”

  “Like UCLA was to me.”

  “Exactly!” She clapped and pointed. She loved how he understood her right away. “I don’t want to mess up this application. One mistake and it could mean I’m not going to college for at least a year.”

  “You still have the other schools you applied to, right?”

  “It’s not the same.” She shook her head. “Parsons is it for me. I need to get in.”

  “Then you’ll get in.” He said it with so much conviction that she believed him.

  A smile relaxed the tight muscles on her face. She hadn’t even known she was scowling until Will’s reassurance talked her off the ledge. “Thanks.”

  “At your service.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes. There was a pause. A spark. A moment when the air felt charged between them. If they weren’t on opposite sides of the living room, Stella was sure they would have kissed. But that was crazy. Will didn’t like her that way.

  So she was the one who changed the topic. “Now if I can only find this book I lost, everything will be peaches.”


  “What book?” Will stared at her with an intensity she couldn’t understand.

  “It’s nothing, really.” She downplayed it. “Just something Franklin made for me. If I don’t find it, he’ll be sad.” Most likely mad. But that was neither here nor there.

  Still studying her, Will reached for the back pocket of his jeans and pulled something out. Stella followed his hand with her gaze. In seconds he produced something small and sparkly. She swallowed.

  “Why do you have that?” she asked in a whisper. More like her voice was disappearing. Afraid of the coming consequences.

  “Care to explain what this Boyfriend Bracket nonsense is all about?” He waved the booklet like it was something to be thrown away.

  “How did you get that?” Her eyes widened when she connected the dots. “The flea market. You went through my purse?”

  “Of course not!” Will said in his defense. “When you grabbed your wallet to buy pie it fell out. So naturally I picked it up.”

  “Then why did you keep it?”

  “You know Cam won’t like this.”

  Stella felt all the blood in her body rush to her feet. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me.”

  There was a seriousness in Will that made her uneasy. He would tell Cam. It was part of their stupid bro code. The question was: Why had he waited this long? He’d had the booklet the entire time.

  “That’s an invasion of my privacy.” Maybe she could guilt Will into giving the booklet back and not saying anything to her brother.

  “You want this back? You have to explain it to me.”

  Huffing, Stella sat back on her haunches and rubbed a hand down her face. Fine. If that was what he wanted, then it was easy enough to do.

  “Franklin put together a system to help me narrow down my options.”

  “What for?” Horror filled Will’s face.

  “Okay, before you judge—”

  “Judging? I’m not judging.”

  Eyes narrowing, Stella circled a finger in front of his face. “That stupid look you have on says so.”

  “I just want to understand. That’s all. And how this all connects to the frat party.”