The Replacement Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “Can’t you, um, use the same college essay for all your applications?”

  He shot me a withering look. “I can tell you haven’t started yours yet.”

  I narrowed my eyes and handed him a Reese’s peanut butter cup. “Try one. I hear chocolate soothes the savage beast.”

  He took the candy and unwrapped it, watching me the whole time, then shoved it into his mouth and turned back to the computer. Still not smiling.

  “So we’ve made it to sci-fi and fantasy,” I said. “Now it’s my turn to make fun of your categories.”

  He swallowed his candy and raised an eyebrow. “Stereotyping again, I see.”

  “Trolls, goblins, and brownies, oh my.”

  He stopped typing to look at me. “Are you creating weird category names for these books, too?”

  I shook my head, embarrassed that he hadn’t laughed. “No. Just a sorry attempt at a joke.” And lighten your cranky mood.

  “Ah. Noted.” His body relaxed, and I could almost feel the tension easing out of him.

  He spun his chair so he faced me, eyes all green and glinty behind his glasses, making me crazy. “It’s possible I do read some of those books. But I’m not an expert like you are with your genre.”

  “Hmm.” I tapped my chin, faking concern. “We might need to hire another genre expert.”

  “Or I could just research it. I’m assuming there are specialized blogs.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, lips twitching. “Like the hunkaliciousheroes blog. Now that’s a wealth of information.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Granny shoes?”

  Oh. My. God. He’d found my blog. How much had he read already? How many rants and raves about love and kissing and burning chemistry and…oh my God.

  I hid my face in my hands, then whispered between my fingers. “How’d you figure it out?”

  “You only made one tactical error. Unfortunately for you, I found it.”

  Frustrated, I dropped my hands and faced him. “Enough with the battle metaphors, Lang. Tell me how you did it.”

  He grinned, apparently over his earlier grumpiness. “You’re the only blogger who listed Murder by the Sea as her favorite bookstore.”

  I closed my eyes. He was right; I’d put it on my page of faves and raves. I wanted to melt into the floor. He might as well have read my diary.

  “You’re a great writer, Vivian. You’re funny, and you have strong opinions. That’s cool.”

  I turned back to my computer, refusing to speak or look at him.

  “So you’re not speaking to me now?”

  I shook my head. How could I possibly speak when I was this embarrassed?

  He sighed next to me. “Fine.”

  We stayed that way, not speaking, keyboards clicking, until Mom texted me.

  “My mom’s bringing you dinner. She’s worried you didn’t have time to eat before you came back here.”

  He glanced up. “She doesn’t need to do that.”

  I shrugged. “She likes feeding people, even though she’s a lousy cook.”

  His laughter made my stomach tumble over. “Lucky for you she got Chinese food.”

  “Sweet.” He resumed typing as his mouth curved into a smile.

  We worked in near silence, the only sounds our keyboards and Hiddles purring on Dallas’s lap. I wondered if I could block him from reading my blog somehow, but I doubted I could outsmart him when it came to hacking.

  “My, aren’t you two busy,” Mom called from the store kitchen. The smell of sesame chicken made my mouth water even though I’d already eaten. “It’s quiet as a church in the middle of the night.”

  “We’re focused,” I muttered.

  Dallas snorted next to me, but I refused to look at him.

  “Smells awesome.” He stood up, stretching his long, lean body. I snuck a glance as he moved into his weird karate kid stance.

  “What?” He sounded annoyed. “You do yoga; why do you think this is weird?”

  “I didn’t say it was weird.” I spun my chair to face him.

  “You’re thinking it, though. You have a lousy poker face.” He grinned at me, hugging his knee tighter to his chest.

  “Good thing I don’t gamble.”

  He switched legs, balancing on the other. “Don’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “Every battle is a gamble. You never know how a mission might turn out. ”

  “Come and get it, data monkeys!” Mom called over the clatter of plates and silverware.

  Dallas laughed, and returned to standing like a normal person. “Let’s eat, Sweet Feet.”

  I gaped at him, horrified he’d just called me by my blog name, but he was gone before I could think of a retort.

  “So how do you like Shady Cove, Dallas?” Mom asked as I joined them in the kitchen. “Are you making new friends?”

  He’d just taken a bite of rice and chicken, so I answered for him. “He likes the weather except for the fog. Misses some of his old friends.” I paused. “Also, he collects trophies for some secret sport. I’m guessing miniature golf.” I gave Dallas a syrupy sweet smile.

  “Shady Cove is different than I expected,” he said after swallowing, keeping his eyes on me. “But Vivian has offered to help me out. Introduce me to some people I might like to get to know better.”

  He shot me a wicked grin, then licked his lips, distracting me from making a snarky retort.

  Mom beamed at me. “That’s lovely, sweetie. It’s so important to make newcomers feel welcome.” She turned her high beams on Dallas. “I’m so glad Vivvy is helping to ease the transition for you.” She paused to sip water. “Vivvy grew up here, so she knows everyone. Who to avoid. Who you should get to know better.”

  Dallas’s eyes sparked with amusement. “That sounds like our mission.” He smirked at me. “Right, Galdi?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him while Mom opened a fortune cookie, blissfully oblivious. We continued eating, shooting each other death glares. Except his were full of silent laughter while mine were full of false bravado as I wrestled desperately to calm the fireworks exploding inside of me.

  ...

  Mom headed back to the house after dinner, reminding us not to work too late. As soon as Dallas and I sat down at our computers, he shot me a sideways glance. “So if you’re not going to hide behind your ear buds tonight, you can help me out with something.”

  My stomach tumbled over. “What?”

  He spun his chair and Hiddles meowed from his lap, annoyed. “My replacement girlfriend list. You owe me some names. Considering all the grief caused by your article, it’s the least you can do.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You’re serious?”

  He nodded. “Sure, why not? Besides, we just told your mom you were going to introduce me to some people. And you know my shallow criteria from the day you interviewed me.”

  I took a breath. He was totally messing with me.

  “Plus,” he said, “this crazy replacement mission seems to be working for you. At least according to Drew.”

  Now he was taunting me. Or was he? Maybe he thought I actually liked Drew. “Uh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “No? Drew seems to think so.”

  “Drew’s an idiot.” I picked up a book and glared at the beautiful fairy on the cover. I bet she didn’t have to worry about replacement crushes. She probably had some hot fey boy chasing after her.

  Dallas propped his ankle on his thigh, causing Hiddles to jump off his lap. “So Drew’s off the list?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Dallas drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Who’s your next target?”

  “That’s on a need-to-know basis. And you don’t need to know.”

  Dallas’s gaze didn’t waver. “Fine. Then let’s talk about my list.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tried to look annoyed rather than jealous. “You don’t need a list.”

  He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his neck, showing off hi
s ridiculously toned arms. I made another mental note to Google hot cello players since I still hadn’t gotten around to it. Dallas’s arms flexed as he watched me, making my throat go dry. “So you figured out my perfect match already?” He gave me a slow, mysterious smile. “I knew you would. Eventually.”

  We stared at each other for a long, tension-charged moment. When I spoke, my voice was raspy. “You don’t need a list because you already have three names.”

  He frowned. “No I don’t.”

  I tugged at the skirt I’d worn over patterned leggings today. Jaz told me it was sexy cute. I caught Dallas glancing at the place where my hand had just been. My pulse sped up, wondering if he thought I looked sexy cute.

  “Red alert. Red alert. Focus, Vivian. Focus.” It wasn’t Spock’s voice I heard this time, but the warning voice from the original Enterprise. How many imaginary voices could live in my mind at once?

  “Your list is the three girls who asked you to the Surfer Ball.” I forced a smug smile, but I wasn’t feeling it.

  He blinked at me. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” It was my turn to lean back in my chair. “Tell me their names.”

  He dropped his eyes, and a slight blush crept up his neck. My hormones protested wildly, demanding that I launch myself from my chair onto his lap. I reached for my water bottle again.

  “Um, okay.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still not looking at me. “One was Jamie something. Tall. Blond.”

  Also gorgeous, I filled in mentally. Figures. I reached for a piece of paper and wrote Jamie Quinn.

  “Next,” I prompted, forcing myself to sound bored.

  He watched me closely, like he knew I was acting a role. I bit my lip, and his eyes shot to my mouth.

  “Next,” I said again.

  He frowned. “Kylie.”

  I nodded, scrawling her name on my list. Also gorgeous. Who would have guessed all these girls had a thing for McNerds? I snuck another glance at him. Well, he didn’t exactly fit the stereotype.

  “And?” I said. “Last one?”

  “Um, Tara, I think?”

  Great. Of course the gorgeous Tara had asked him out. Even Iggy had tried to test his gayness with her. Just imagining she and Dallas naked together made me clench my pencil so hard it cracked.

  “You don’t need my help, Dallas.”

  He tugged at his jeans. “But I don’t know these girls, and you do. You can at least tell me about them.”

  This was frakking killing me. I could not do this.

  Just kiss him, my hormones whispered like sirens leading me to certain death. Just one little kiss. Then you’ll know for sure if his feelings match yours.

  My hormones were psychotic. As if I’d just randomly lean across the space between us and—

  Dallas’s phone rang, making us both jump.

  “I’ll see what I can find,” Dallas said to the caller. “But no promises.” He disconnected. “My sister,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “She wants to know if you have any more books in the Crystal Unicorn series.”

  “I’ll check.” I was grateful for an excuse to get away from him since my imagination was stuck in a repeat loop, fantasizing about kissing him.

  Vivian to Spock! May-day! May-day!

  I lingered in the kids’ section, trying to slow my heart rate. How many guys could show up at a new school and have three uber hot girls throw themselves at him? Not many. I wished I was Becca’s age, preoccupied with unicorns instead of crazy fantasies that turned me into a stuttering idiot.

  I glanced at the clock: 9:35. He’d be leaving soon, then I could escape to my bedroom fortress. I couldn’t wait to bury myself in a book and shut out thoughts of Dallas and stupid Drew. And Jake the Snake.

  “Here.” I set two Crystal Unicorn books on the desk. “No charge.”

  Dallas glanced at me. “Why not?”

  “Consider it a peace offering, for the talent show thing.” I shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “Sorry about that.” I glanced up, relieved to see he looked intrigued rather than mad.

  “Hmm,” he said. “If I were into Crystal Unicorns, this might be a fair trade.” His eyes were full of laughter, making my insides do cartwheels. “But since I am not a Crystal Unicorn fan, I think you need to come up with a better peace offering.”

  Sinking into my chair, I twisted a curl around my fingers. His eyes tracked my hand, then flicked to my face. “Well?” he prompted. “You have any better ideas?”

  The ideas I had could never be said aloud. “Not really.”

  “I do. How about popcorn?”

  “Popcorn?” I stared at him, confused. “How can you still be hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry. Plus you ate half my dinner.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “We both know there’s a case of popcorn in there.”

  “So I make popcorn and you forgive me for throwing you under the bus with Drew?”

  His easy grin made my breath catch. “Not quite. You have to watch something with me while we eat the popcorn.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You’re going to force me to watch a McNerd show, aren’t you? Let me guess. The Big Bang Theory?”

  His eyebrows knotted. “Go make the popcorn.”

  I glanced at the clock. “I told my mom we’d be done at Ten. Ten thirty at the latest.”

  “If we start now we’ll be done by ten thirty.” He wasn’t giving up. “Come on, Galdi. Live dangerously.”

  “Fine. But then we’re even, Lang.”

  “Popcorn,” he ordered, pointing toward the kitchen.

  I texted Mom while listening to the kernels explode inside the microwave like fireworks. “Be home a little after 10:30.”

  Her response flew back. “Do I need to come over there?”

  Oh my God. “No!”

  “Don’t push it, kiddo. 10:45 or I’ll come check on you.”

  What did she think she’d find? Dallas and me…no, I couldn’t go there. I poured the popcorn into a bowl and grabbed two sodas from the fridge. When I emerged from the kitchen I heard the tinny theme song from the original Star Trek series.

  “No way.” I laughed as I plunked down the popcorn and sodas.

  “Way,” Dallas said, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

  I wished we were in my house, snuggled together on the couch in front of our television. I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing away the image.

  “You okay?” Dallas asked.

  I opened my eyes and focused on the screen, embarrassed. Spock and some random crew member were dressed in weird orange hazmat uniforms decorated with gold swirls. I loved watching shows from the sixties because the styles were weird yet retro cool. I reached for a handful of popcorn, my hand brushing Dallas’s.

  “Sorry,” we said at the same time, yanking our hands out of the bowl. I wondered if he’d felt the same jolt of connection I had, but I wasn’t about to look at his face. Instead, I focused on the crewman I knew would end up dead because he was nameless and wearing a red shirt, which meant certain death in the Star Trek world. Lo and behold, he contracted some alien virus two minutes later.

  We both cracked up at a goofy scene where the infected crewman threatened people with a butter knife, but then the guy ended up stabbing himself with it.

  “Could you get injured from a butter knife?” I asked.

  “Apparently so. Maybe because they’re futuristic butter knives with laser edges.” Dallas shot me a sideways grin.

  I took a drink of soda. “So why’d you pick this particular episode?” I asked.

  “Watch and learn, young Padawan.”

  “You’re mixing up your references. Star Wars…Star Trek.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Like I don’t know that? Just watch.”

  The episode was vaguely familiar, but since I’d watched them with my dad before he and Mom had split, I couldn’t recall them easily.

  But then a shirtless Sulu ran down a hallway, yelling and brandishing a fencing foil. Oh no. This was the episode where
Nurse Chapel told Spock she loved him, and he freaked out, because he got the virus, too. The virus made people’s emotions rise to the surface, sort of like when they were drunk.

  I scooted my chair away from Dallas as if that would alleviate my rising anxiety. “So I’m guessing you’re making me watch this because of Spock,” I said, as an insurance ad filled the screen.

  Dallas turned, his chair bumping into mine since we sat so close together. “Yep. I figured if you’re following some weird Spock strategy as part of your mission, you should see that he doesn’t always follow his Vulcan code. Sometimes his humanity wins out.”

  “But he only loses control because of that stupid virus. I’m not in danger of getting some alien virus that will make me all drunk and stupid.”

  Dallas shoved his glasses up his nose. “You honestly think you can stay logical about this? Totally ignore your feelings?”

  I swallowed nervously, hardly believing we were having this conversation.

  “I think I can try.” I breathed. The show resumed and I turned away from him. “I’m sticking to my mission,” I said softly, more to myself than him.

  “All because you want a date to the stupid Surfer Ball?”

  My face burned. “I-I know it sounds stupid to you…but I’d really like to go with someone nice. Someone fun.”

  He watched me in that intense way that made it hard to breathe. “I’d never call you stupid.” He took a drink from his soda, still watching me. “But I don’t see why you’re putting all this effort into something you can fix so easily.”

  We stared at each other, not speaking, until I broke the stalemate. “What do you mean?”

  “Just ask your obvious target to the stupid dance and get it over with. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

  “The obvious target?” Was he saying what I thought he was?

  He nodded. “I’m sure someone appreciated your fake Spock tattoo. Probably not Drew, though. Or the homework guy.”

  I turned away, focusing on Dallas’s laptop screen where Nurse Chapel told Spock she loved him and he freaked out, telling her he was sorry he couldn’t love her back. He escaped to a hallway and cried. Usually I laughed at the over-the-top acting in Star Trek, but for some reason I almost felt like crying, too.