The Replacement Crush

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  Dallas and I shared a pained glance.

  “I wasn’t feeling well,” I said quickly. “Dallas brought me home.”

  Mom frowned, reaching out to touch my forehead like I was five years old.

  “I should go,” Dallas said, taking a step back from all of us.

  Mom tilted her head. “You sure? We have brownies, fresh from the bakery.”

  Paul grinned. “I splurged. White flour instead of wheat.”

  Dallas ducked his head. “Thanks, but I need to go.” He glanced at me. “Remember what I said, okay?”

  I nodded, swallowing over the lump in my throat. I needed to get to my room, stat, so I could fall apart.

  “Bye.” He nodded at Mom and Paul, his glance sweeping over me quickly, then he turned and jogged down the steps, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Vivian, what’s going on?” Mom asked.

  I pushed past her, tears streaming down my face, and ran to the safety of my room where I locked the door and cried myself to sleep.

  “Has it occurred to you that there is a certain inefficiency in constantly questioning me on things you’ve already made up your mind about?” —Spock

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sunday, November 2

  Sunday morning dawned as gray as my mood. I’d dreamed of Dallas and Jake: swirling images of desire and repulsion. I woke sweat-soaked and nauseated, telling myself to breathe. Telling myself I was safe.

  I grabbed my phone, suddenly remembering I’d fallen asleep without Googling Dallas. Text messages from Jaz, Amy, and Toff filled my screen, but I ignored them. Instead I opened my phone’s internet browser and typed in Dallas Lang, Wisconsin.

  My screen filled quickly. “Dallas Lang, Wisconsin State Teen Martial Arts Champion. Dallas Lang: Regional Champion. Dallas Lang: Can He Win Nationals?”

  Holy. Crapoli.

  I sat up, staggered to my desk, and powered up my laptop. I needed a big screen for this kind of data. As I waited for my system to come to life, I picked up The Lovers tarot card the weird psychic lady had forced on me. I’d meant to throw it away but that seemed like bad karma. Today it felt like the card burned my hands, even though I knew it was just my imagination.

  I Googled Dallas Lang again, only this time I clicked on images for results. The photos made my mouth go dry.

  In the first photo he held a trophy above his head, laughing. Shirtless. My eyes honed in on the tattoo curling around the top of his shoulder. I couldn’t tell what it was, maybe a dragon? Whatever it was, it made me reach for a glass of water. He looked like a freaking action movie star. Plus, he wasn’t wearing glasses, just like last night. I remembered when I’d interviewed him over coffee and stupidly asked him if he ever wore contacts.

  He’d shot me that sexy smile and said, “Sometimes.”

  My eyes scanned the article. “Dallas Lang, reigning state teen champion of Taekwondo, triumphed again, beating highly ranked Bradley Closs in a sparring match that should have been on pay per view. After the match, Lang and Closs posed for photos, surrounded by a surprisingly raucous group of female fans.”

  I snorted and kept reading.

  “When asked how he continued to dominate state and regional matches, Lang, ever the gracious winner, praised his sensei and his dojo.” I reached for my phone and typed a text.

  “Solved: the case of the mysterious trophies.” I glanced at the time: 9:03. Was he awake? So what; he’d see it eventually. I hit send and returned to my Googling, lingering over the images.

  My phone pinged at 9:42 a.m.

  “You going to write another article?”

  I smiled as I typed my reply. “Do you want me to?”

  “No.”

  “Why so modest?”

  “Why so curious?”

  “It’s my DNA. Mystery author mom. Remember?”

  “I remember.”

  My breath came in shallow beats.

  His next text came after a few minutes of radio silence. “How are you?”

  I knew what he meant. He wanted to know how I was mentally, physically, and every other way after last night.

  How was I? When I didn’t think about Jake and instead salivated over photos and articles about Dallas, I was fine. More than fine. But when I thought of Jake grasping me in his angry vise grip, I felt a panic attack swarm over me like a hive of angry bees.

  “You there, Vivian?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Can I call you?”

  Spock started to protest, but I ignored him. “Sure.”

  Seconds later my phone rang. “Hey.” His sleepy voice sent my hormones into red alert mode.

  “So.” I swallowed. “Apparently you are a ninja bad-ass. For real.”

  “Apparently.” His reply was soft and sexy.

  “You weren’t going to tell me?”

  He sighed into the phone. “I would’ve. Eventually. If we’d…um…spent more time together.”

  I closed my eyes, willing my racketing pulse rate to slow. “So is your body like a lethal weapon? Did you have to register with the sheriff’s office when you moved here?”

  He laughed, sending shivers to all the wrong places. “I’m registered with the FBI. Covers all the states.” He sounded more awake now.

  “How convenient.” I wondered if he slept in his underwear. My entire body burned as I tried to ignore the tattooed, bare-chested images flashing through my mind.

  “So,” he said. “Seriously. You doing okay?”

  I sighed into the phone. “I guess.”

  “Did you tell your mom yet?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t say anything. We breathed together and I wondered if he was picturing me in my bed the way I was picturing him.

  “You’re working today, right? Since Sunday’s the day your mom takes off?”

  Warmth licked through me. “Stalking me again?”

  “Observing. Big difference, like I told you before.”

  I leaned into my pillow, wishing he was next to me.

  “So are you?” he asked. “Working today?”

  “Yeah.” I hesitated. “What are you doing today?”

  Silence for a few seconds, then a sigh. I pictured him tugging at his hair. “I have some stuff to do. Homework. Some other stuff. ”

  “Ninja stuff?”

  He laughed softly. “Maybe.”

  We breathed together again. I formed the words in my mind, selecting and discarding carefully before I finally spoke. “Thank you, Dallas. For—for saving me. For being a real-life hero. And for bringing me home last night.” I took a deep breath, hesitated, then let more words spill out. “You made me feel safe, Dallas.”

  I thought I heard his breath hitch but I wasn’t sure.

  “I’m glad we were there,” he said. “Really glad.”

  Neither of us said anything, then I tried to make a joke. “Your moves are way more impressive than a Vulcan nerve pinch.”

  He laughed softly. “So you’re on Team Kirk now?”

  I swallowed. Every nerve in my body tingled with an energy I couldn’t control if my life depended on it. “That’s a big leap. From Vulcan to crazy train.”

  “Kirk’s not crazy. Just passionate.” He paused. “Anyway. For what it’s worth, I think you should tell your mom. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Vivian.”

  My breath came short and fast. “I-I feel as if…I don’t know. As if I should’ve somehow been able to take care of myself better.”

  He swore under his breath. “That’s stupid. It’s simple physics, Viv. You couldn’t have fought him off.”

  I sighed into the phone. “Maybe if I had your ninja moves, I would’ve had a better chance.”

  This time he sighed. “Maybe. But he had a major advantage over you. That’s why I hate guys like that.” He was quiet for a moment. “That’s why I started in martial arts when I was a kid. After getting beat up one too many times, I wanted to learn how to fight back.”

  “Achievement unlocked
,” I whispered, and he chuckled into the phone.

  “Seriously, you shouldn’t feel as if you…failed or whatever. Sometimes other people have to step in, especially when it’s not a fair fight. Or a full-on attack, like last night.”

  I started trembling, remembering how scared I’d been.

  “Viv? You still with me?”

  I rubbed at my eyes, at the scared and angry tears. Maybe I should’ve told Mom. I didn’t want to be in the store by myself today.

  “You should call Toff. Jaz. Amy. All your friends. Have them hang out with you at the store today.”

  But he was the one I wanted next to me.

  “I wish I could come by,” he said, reading my mind, “but I need to be somewhere at ten thirty.” He hesitated. “Call Toff, okay? He’s got your back. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “I know.”

  “Promise me you’ll call your friends, okay? And tell your mom?” He hesitated. “I’ll see you at school, Vivian.”

  Vivian, not Viv. Call my friends. Like he wasn’t one of them. I exhaled, releasing a long breath. “See you,” I whispered, then I disconnected before he could hear the tears in my voice.

  Jake’s angry face filled my mind, but I pushed it away. I wouldn’t let him intrude. No matter what happened with Dallas and me, today and every day from now on was going to be a Jake-free zone.

  No assholes allowed.

  ...

  I spent the afternoon working in the store, grateful to be busy. In between customers, I texted Jaz, Amy, and Claire, who were losing their collective minds about what had happened last night. They all wanted to come see me in person, but I delayed them, despite Dallas’s advice, telling them the store was too busy. I was afraid I might melt down with my friends and I didn’t want that to happen in public.

  Toff texted me late in the afternoon. I guessed he’d slept in, after partying half the night. “How’s the Wordworm?”

  “Groovy,” I texted.

  He sent back a row of cross-eyed, tongue-rolling smiley faces. “Hippie.”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “Seriously. How’s my favorite dork?”

  “Good.” I hesitated then typed again. “I Googled Dallas.”

  “Kick ass, huh? R U even more in luv with him now, dork?”

  And what if I was? Did it matter? Call your friends, Dallas had said, leaving himself out of that equation. He was remarkable, and he’d saved me, but he would’ve done the same for anyone.

  “Drop it, Flipper.”

  I set down my phone while I assisted a couple of kids looking for Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. By the time I looked at my phone again, Toff had blown it up with more messages.

  “So for real, Viv. You ok?”

  “Jake will never bother you again. Ever.”

  “Viv?

  “WTH? U lip-locked with ninja boy?”

  I blushed when I read that one. If only.

  “I’m here. Just busy @ work. Thank you Toff. 4 last night. 4 everything.”

  “U know I’d do anything 4 u.” Then he sent the tongue-out smiley face. “Almost anything.”

  He was my brother, whether I wanted one or not. “What did u do with Jake?”

  “Tied him to an anchor. Dropped him overboard.”

  “Seriously. What did you do?”

  “Made sure he got home safe. Tucked him in with his teddy bear.”

  He wasn’t going to tell me. Maybe it was just as well.

  “He won’t bother u again. Or anyone else. Bruce Lee and I took care of it.”

  My breathing slowed. I wondered what Toff and Dallas had done after Dallas dropped me off last night. Jake was still alive or I’d have heard otherwise. He was lucky. I smiled to myself; I was starting to think like my mom, plotting Jake’s imaginary death.

  A dad and his little boy approached the counter with a stack of Thomas the Train books. After they left, I texted Toff again.

  “Is it okay if you and your dad don’t come over for dinner tonight? I kind of need a break.”

  “Whatever you need, Wordworm.”

  I sent him a row of dolphin emoticons. “Thanks Flipper.”

  ...

  Mom nibbled on a piece of pizza while we curled up on the couch, half-watching an old episode of Veronica Mars.

  “So,” she said around a mouthful of cheese and veggies. “About last night…”

  “Isn’t that an old movie? Black and white, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Nice try, Vivvy.” She chewed and swallowed. “Tell me the truth. Are you okay? And what’s going on with you and Dallas?”

  I’d worried about this conversation all day, turning it over in mind. How much to tell her, if anything? I knew Dallas and Toff had scared the hell out of Jake. He wasn’t going to mess with me, or any other girl in Shady Cove.

  But was that enough, or should I report him? If so, for what? He’d grabbed me, yeah. Threatened me. But was that reportable? I closed my eyes. If Toff and Dallas hadn’t shown up... I didn’t know what to do.

  “I promise I’ll tell you, Mom. I just need some time. But as for Dallas…I guess we’re not fighting anymore.”

  She grinned. “No more lovers’ quarrel?”

  I shook my head, blushing. We were hardly lovers. What were we now? Friends again? Or just a guy who’d rescued a girl?

  She sighed happily, totally misinterpreting my blush. “I’m so glad.” She reached for another slice of pizza. “Whenever you want to talk, sweetie. About anything.”

  I nodded. “I know,” I whispered. “I will. Just not yet.”

  We sat in comfortable silence, watching TV and eating pizza. I wondered what Dallas had been doing all day. I’d hoped for another call, or at least a text, but I hadn’t heard from him.

  Before I could lose my nerve, I picked up my phone and typed a quick text message. “Harvey Climpet.”

  A few minutes he later he sent his reply: “???”

  “Google it, ninja.”

  It took him less than a minute to figure it out.

  “Your mom writes under a man’s name?? Well-played, Spock. Hu’tegh.”

  My butterflies did a little jig when they saw the nickname.

  “Hu’tegh?”

  “Google it.”

  So I did. Hu’tegh was Klingon for ‘damn.’ What a McNerd. I typed quickly. “So this is how Wisconsinites get around the no swearing rule?”

  “Yep.” A hesitation, then another text. “U doing ok?”

  Mom cleared her throat. “No texting during dinner, Vivvy.”

  I raised my eyes. “Are you serious? We’re watching TV.”

  She nodded toward the pizza box on the coffee table. “And eating dinner.”

  Shaking my head, I sent Dallas one last text. “G2G. But yeah. I’m good.” Everything in me wanted to add an X and an O to the end of my text, but no way would I do that until I could figure out how he really felt about me.

  It was time for me to put on my big girl panties and tell Dallas how I felt. How I’d always felt.

  And if I was finally going to tell him, I had to make it good.

  “Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!”

  —Dr. “Bones” McCoy

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Wednesday, November 5

  "Hello, Vivian. Today’s not your usual book delivery day. Can I help you with something?” Ms. Garcia’s warm smile welcomed me as I stood in her office doorway.

  “I wondered if I could speak with Mrs. Sinatra. Just a quick, um interim, book drop-off. ” Fisk had told me his gran’s code name that only he used.

  Ms. Garcia raised her eyebrows. “How did you—” She caught herself and tried to look official. Fisk/Hector must have told her who he really was and sworn her to secrecy, too. “We don’t have anyone here by that name.”

  I grinned and held up a bag full of paperbacks. “She reads fast. Her grandson asked that I keep her supplied.” I still hadn’t met Fisk’s gran since she wasn’t very mobile. Mrs
. Sloane brought her list when I set up shop in the community room and then delivered the books to her.

  Ms. Garcia’s face relaxed. “Isn’t Hector a sweetie? All right, come with me.” I followed her down the narrow hallway, waving and saying “hi” to my regular customers until Ms. Garcia knocked on a closed door.

  “Come in,” said a wobbly voice. Ms. Garcia opened the door and ushered me inside.

  This room was nicer than the others: better furniture with lots of plants and flowers on all the surfaces. And a framed poster of Fisk winning the America Sings competition several years ago before his career took off.

  “Well, hello, sweetheart,” Mrs. Sinatra aka Fisk’s gran said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  I held up the bag. “More books.” I waited until Ms. Garcia closed the door, then spoke quickly. “My name is Vivian. Bookstore girl?” I smiled hopefully. “I’ve met your grandson and I need to get a message to him. But I don’t have his number since he’s, like, famous.” I took a breath. “Can you call him for me, please? I hate to intrude, but it’s important.”

  She frowned. “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really.” I decided to confide in her. “I’m trying to fix something I messed up. And I think Fisk can help me.”

  She nodded. “All right, hon. I’ll tell him. He knows where to find you?”

  I nodded. “Thank you.” I patted her hand. “I’m glad I got to meet you. Your grandson’s a great guy and he cares about you a lot.”

  “He’s the bee’s knees,” she said, and I grinned, thinking of Iggy and how much he’d love my plan. But I couldn’t tell him or anyone else.

  I slid off the bed, grateful for her help but also nervous.

  If Fisk came through, this was going to be the scariest, dorkiest thing I’d ever done in my life.

  ...

  For a rock star Fisk was shockingly prompt. He’d sent a message through his gran, via Ms. Garcia, that he’d come by the store tonight after closing. I’d just shut the door when I saw the Unabomber emerge from the shadows. I grinned at him and unlocked the door.

  “Hi,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to respond so fast.”

  He glanced around the darkened store, then tugged off his hood and sunglasses. “I figured it was urgent.” He stared down at me, looking genuinely concerned. “What is it, Vivian?”