Dallas scooted his chair away from the desk. “More popcorn,” he said, grabbing the bowl.
“Let’s pause it.” I reached for his keyboard, but he put out a hand to stop me, sending sparks shooting up my arm.
“No,” he said softly. “I’ve seen it plenty of times. You keep watching.” He disappeared into the kitchen while I watched Spock have a meltdown. That would not be me. I’d maintain my Vulcan cool and complete my mission. The last thing I needed was more drama in my life.
I made notes on the list of girls who’d asked Dallas to the dance. When he returned with a fresh bowl of steaming popcorn, I handed him the list.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Your replacement girlfriend list. Start with Kylie.” She was the nicest of the three.
My heart broke into a million pieces as I imagined them dancing together.
We both ignored Bones yelling on the screen while Dallas read my notes. He raised his eyes to mine. “You honestly think she’s my top target? The best match for a McNerd like me?” He took a bite of popcorn and chewed slowly, then swallowed, his gaze never wavering from mine. “You can’t think of anyone else who might be a better match?”
We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us blinking. It took all my Vulcan cool not to snatch the list out of his hand and tell him his perfect match was sitting right here. But I didn’t.
Love was dangerous. Unpredictable. I was better off reading about it. So instead of telling Dallas the truth, I just nodded, reaching for more popcorn, not even flinching as the steam burned my fingers. For the next few minutes, it took everything in me to keep the tears from falling.
“Of my friend I can only say this: of all the souls that I met on my travels, his was the most… human.”
—Captain Kirk
CHAPTER TWENTY
Friday, September 19th
Somehow I managed to avoid Dallas the rest of the week, and today was a teacher planning day so we didn’t have school. I had a busy day planned, including posting a new book review and interviewing Reg and his friends for the newspaper.
And not inviting Dallas to join me for the interviews.
Today’s blog post was all about the aliens, specifically Aelyx from the Alienated series and Daemon from the Lux series. I’d bribed Jaz with a couple of free smoothies in exchange for a cool anime style drawing of the hot aliens looking steamy and kissable, and I’d posted a funny kissing quiz. The quiz asked about the best place for a first kiss (car, couch, or back row in a movie theater) and the all important first kiss question: tongue or no tongue?
After I found the perfect animated GIF to post with my blog, I texted Amy, asking her to give it one last look. She replied with a row of hearts and a thumbs-up, so I hit publish and closed my laptop, relieved to check one item off my to-do list.
I stopped into the bookstore to see Mom before I headed to the beach to find Reg and was surprised to see Dallas leaning on the counter talking to Mom.
He glanced up, but his smile was tight, and I wondered if he felt as awkward as I did after our last conversation about the girls on his RC list.
“Hey.” I pulled at the strings of my faded Dibs on Mr. Darcy hoodie.
He stepped back from the counter clutching an envelope. “Just stopped by for my paycheck,” he said. “I’ve gotta run.”
Mom glanced between us, her invisible writer’s antennae scanning us for signs of conflict or drama.
“Oh, uh, sure.” So articulate, Viv. “Well, uh. Have a good day.” I shrugged, hating that we’d been reduced to this awkward formality with each other.
He nodded again, then focused on my mom. “Thanks again, Ms. Galdi.”
“Of course,” she said, her smile way too bright. “We’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Ugh. Tomorrow. Inventory. More alone time with him. I pretended to be fascinated by a stack of self-help books that had to be from the seventies. Get Your Groove Back: Guide to a Groovy Middle Age and Far-out Fitness: Fun Ways to Lose the Fat.
“Yeah,” I heard Dallas say. “See you then.”
I waited until I heard the door close before I made eye contact with my mom.
“What’s going on with you two?” she asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Nothing.” I flipped through the Far-Out Fitness book. Had people actually worn leg warmers in public back then? With those awful exercise leotards? Yuck.
“Vivian Josephine Galdi. Come here.”
Uh oh. The middle name meant business. I shuffled to the counter, avoiding direct eye contact.
“Did you and Dallas have a fight? Did you two go out and break up already without telling me?”
“No!” I met her penetrating stare with my own. “We did not go out. We’re just…I don’t know. Not seeing eye-to-eye on some stuff.”
Mom crossed her arms over her crime scene tape T-shirt. “I hope you’re being nice to that boy, Vivvy. He’s so sweet. And he’s new in town. I’d hate to think my own daughter was giving him grief.”
I tugged at my hair. “I am not giving him grief! There’s nothing going on with us. No dating, no fighting. Nothing.” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because I wanted something but was unwilling to admit it.
I pushed off the counter. “I’ve gotta go. I’m heading to the beach to interview Reg and a few of the other guys, if they’re willing.” And I wasn’t inviting Dallas; I didn’t need a bodyguard.
Mom’s cranky face disappeared, replaced by an approving glow. “I’m so glad you’re doing these interviews, sweetie. If anyone can do them justice, it’s you.”
Wow. How did she do that, go from judgy mom to cheerleader mom so fast? And I thought I was moody. “Thanks Mom. I’ll see you for dinner, okay?”
Her smile lit up her face. “Paul and Toff are joining us. Pizza.”
I stifled a groan as I turned to leave. Pizza with Flipper, just what I needed.
Not.
...
Stopping into the Bean, I loaded up on croissants, donuts with sprinkles, and muffins for Reg and his friends. I was grateful Jake wasn’t around to make snide remarks about my bulging sack of yumminess, but as I exited the store I almost crashed into Dallas.
“W-what are you…are you stalking me, Dallas?” Flustered, I stepped away, almost stumbling over an oversized flower pot.
Dallas’s gaze narrowed. “No. I was going to get a smoothie. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed in the Bean at the same time as you.”
Ouch. “Sorry,” I muttered, shoving my pastry bag into my bike’s basket.
“Where are you headed?” Dallas asked.
I hesitated. “To the beach,” I said, inwardly wincing at the partial truth.
“Want company?”
His question stunned me. “I-I-uh…” I stared at his faded Nikes.
The shoes pivoted away from me. “Never mind,” he muttered.
My hand shot out, grasping his bicep, which flexed under my grip. As Jaz would say, Da-yum. “W-wait,” I stammered. “I…well…I’m going to do the homeless interviews for the Clarion.” I shrugged, meeting his wary gaze. “You can tag along if you want.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Tag along? Like a puppy?”
That made me snort-laugh, but he didn’t share my amusement. I quashed my nervous laughter. “No, not like a puppy.” I held up my empty hands. “I forgot the leash.”
“Good thing I respond to voice commands.”
“Do you respond to treats?” I teased, “Or are you motivated by slavish devotion to your human?” As soon as the words tumbled out, I wanted to kick myself.
Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Let’s find out.” He closed the gap between us, smirking down at me. “I promise I’m potty trained.”
Blushing, I turned to unlock my bike. “You’ll have to run to keep up with me.”
“Challenge accepted.”
I should’ve known competition would motivate him.
Spending more
time with him was a mistake, especially since I’d told him to focus on his own RC list, but my inner Vulcan was off duty. Straddling my bike, I shot him a challenging grin. “Last one to the overlook is a Klingon.”
Ten minutes later, I won the race, but only by a hair. Dallas ran fast and was barely out of breath after sprinting next to me.
I handed him a water bottle and he took it, tilting his head back to drain it.
“Okay, Lois Lane.” He winked. “Let’s do this.”
Reg grinned as we approached his bench. “Pastry Princess. What are you doing out here on a school day?”
“No school today.” I handed him the bag and started pouring cups of coffee. I’d brought a thermos of coffee from home along with paper cups. “I was hoping maybe I could interview you.” I glanced at the other two guys on the bench. “And your friends, if that’s okay.”
Reg took a bite of a chocolate sprinkle donut and chewed, watching his friends. They took coffee cups but eyed us warily.
“This is my friend Dallas.”
Dallas nodded and held up a hand in greeting. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
Reg nodded, still chewing. I shot Dallas a nervous glance and he gave me an encouraging smile, just enough to bolster my confidence.
“It’s for the school newspaper,” I explained. “To raise awareness about the need for shelter donations.”
“I don’t want anybody’s pity,” Reg said. “Not interested in being a sob story.”
The other two nodded, still eyeing me suspiciously. I noticed that one of them didn’t look too much older than me underneath his spotty beard. The other man might’ve been in his early forties. It was hard to tell since living on the streets took such a toll on the body. I could feel Dallas tense up next to me, and I wondered if he was scared. I gave him a reassuring glance, but was surprised to find that he looked more protective than fearful. Not at all like a loyal puppy.
“No, no,” I said, hating that I’d already messed up somehow. “It’s not like that at all. I want to write about your life. Your history. Your family. Whatever you want to tell me.”
The older man snorted. “Ain’t seen my family in years.”
“Mine kicked me out,” said the younger guy. “Tried to go back once, but they’d moved.” He shrugged like he didn’t care but I saw the flash of pain in his eyes. I couldn’t even fathom the pain, the rejection.
“My daughter says I can live with her if I want,” Reg said. “But I won’t do that to her. I get these…episodes. The VA says I need meds, but I ain’t putting more shit into my body.”
Glancing at Dallas, I settled into a cross-legged position on the pavement and retrieved my journalism notebook from my backpack. Dallas sat next to me, apparently content to let me run the show. “Is it okay if I take notes? I promise I’ll let you read the article before it’s published.”
The three men eyed each other as I waited, holding my breath. Dallas squeezed my knee, then removed his hand, his supportive gesture startling me.
“I don’t read too good,” said the younger guy, ducking his head.
“I’ll read it to you,” I said, glancing at Reg for approval. He took another bite of his donut and chewed slowly. After swallowing, he took a long swig of coffee, then announced, “Viv’s all right. I trust her.” He nodded toward my notebook. “Go ahead, Princess.”
We stayed for a long time, me listening and taking notes, Dallas quiet at my side. At one point I asked if I could record them on my cell phone, but Dan, the fortyish guy, got twitchy so I didn’t.
In the end, Chris, the guy closest to my age, talked the most. It was like he’d been waiting forever for someone to listen to his story and once he started he couldn’t stop.
The sun’s warmth dissipated as the fog rolled in. An involuntary shiver shot through me and Dallas tugged off his sweatshirt and handed it to me. I glanced at him, taken aback at the protectiveness I saw in his eyes. I tugged the Badgers sweatshirt over my head, inhaling his eau de nerd scent, hoping to burn it into my nasal passages forever.
“Thank you so much.” I stood up. “I’m going to write three articles- one for each of you.” I hesitated. “If that’s okay with you. I’ll meet you back here so you can approve them first.”
Reg nodded and after a beat, Chris and Dan grunted in agreement.
Dallas stood up and shook their hands, and so did I, taking note of their dry, cracked skin and the dirt caked underneath broken fingernails and in every crevice. I wished I had Jaz’s artistic skills to capture the contrasting image of my clean, manicured hands clasping theirs.
Dallas and I ambled up the beach path together. He wheeled my bike and I trailed next to him, my mind spinning with the stories I needed to write, hoping I could do them justice.
“You’re good,” he finally said.
I paused, searching his eyes for a hidden meaning. “Good at what?”
“Asking the right questions. Knowing when to be quiet.”
His compliment warmed me even more than his sweatshirt. “Thanks.”
We walked on in companionable silence. I scanned the beach for glimpses of Fisk but saw nothing to report back to Jaz.
When we reached Mom’s store, I tried to return his sweatshirt but he shook his head.
“I know where to find you.” He tugged at his hair. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“You were very well behaved, even off your leash.” I tilted my head back, grinning. “Even without treats.”
“Slavish devotion, remember?”
My teasing persona fled, leaving behind a stammering idiot. “Uh oh—I…”
“See you tomorrow, Vivian.” His grin took my breath away.
And then he was gone, zipping away on his Vespa as I buried my nose in his sweatshirt.
Slavish devotion indeed.
“No! Leave me!”
—Spock
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Saturday, September 20
The Lonely Hearts gathered in the store’s kitchen, feasting on sugary and salty snacks. The group was especially loud and rambunctious today, so I tapped on a glass with a knife to get everyone’s attention. Staring at the butter knife reminded me of watching the Star Trek episode with Dallas.
“Okay, everyone, settle down,” I said, pushing away images of Dallas and me huddled in front of his laptop, sharing popcorn and soda. “Before we discuss the book, I want to talk about an idea for the store.”
The chatter faded and everyone waited, smiling and expectant. “So most of you know Mom’s computerizing things. We’re almost done setting up a database.”
Mrs. Sloane spoke up. “With the help of that handsome young man.”
Amy glanced up from her yarn and needles, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“Right.” I sighed. “Anyway. While working on the inventory, I came up with the idea of setting up a special display featuring romances by hero category.”
“Like the tall, dark, and brooding type,” said Mrs. Sloane.
“Yes.” I smiled conspiratorially. “We’re calling those the Heathcliffs.” That had been Dallas’s idea. I’d been shocked he knew about Wuthering Heights. He’d just rolled his eyes and said he wasn’t a cultural Neanderthal.
“What other categories?” asked Megan. She took notes on her laptop like the diligent grad student she was.
I hesitated. “Well, I’ll tell you some of my ideas, but I’d like your input, too.”
“How about Power Rangers?” asked Amy.
“What?” I stared at her.
“Remember that kids’ show? Maybe it would be a good name for those Navy SEAL heroes.”
I grinned. “I like it.”
Everyone got excited, tossing out funny category names. When I told them about the McNerd category, Megan cheered and did a goofy seated robot dance.
We were all laughing so hard that Mrs. Sloane had to cup her hands around her mouth to project her next comment. “The funniest sex scene I ever read involved a McNerd and
a protractor.”
We all collapsed into raucous laughter, none of us hearing the back screen door open. When everyone suddenly froze, I knew exactly who’d wandered into the kitchen. I hyper-focused on Amy, whose expression told me Dallas had definitely overheard Mrs. Sloane. Mortified, I refused to turn around to face him.
“Um, sorry,” he mumbled behind me. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” His footsteps moved quickly across the kitchen and as soon as the door banged shut behind him, everyone collapsed into laughter again.
I took a deep breath, willing myself to focus. “Okay, ladies. Time to talk about the book.”
...
As usual, Amy stuck around to help me clean up after the meeting. After I’d dried the last cup to within an inch of its life, she yanked the dishtowel out of my hands.
“You can’t avoid him forever.”
“Sure I can. All I need is my sleeping bag and I can live in the kitchen for the rest of my life.”
Amy laughed. “With his timing, he’d just barge in here while you were changing clothes.”
“Oh God. Don’t even say it.” I shivered.
“Just pretend nothing happened.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really? Pretend he didn’t hear something totally inappropriate about hot McNerds and protractors?”
Amy giggled. “What book did she mean, anyway? I need to read it.”
The kitchen door flew open and Mom rushed in, looking harried. “Vivvy, I need you. A group of Lodge guests just descended on us. They all want romances.” She grinned at me. “Poor Dallas. I think he wanted to melt into the floor when they started talking about vampire and werewolf…um…you know.”
“Sounds like an emergency,” Amy said. “You’d better go save the McNerd.”
Mom looked confused. “The what?”
“Never mind,” I said, pushing past Mom. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Call me later,” Amy mouthed.
I heard the women all the way across the store. They’d found the romance section, and sounded just as rambunctious as my book club.
After what seemed like forever, amidst much raucous laughter and commentary, I’d found everyone at least one book. When the boisterous group descended on the counter to pay, debating about which heroes were sexiest, Dallas jumped up.
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