He winked at me, “You’re looking a little flushed.”
I did a totally fake grimace. “Yeah. That’s my player-odometer going off.”
He raised his eyebrows and murmured (sounding strangely sincere), “I’m not playing, Audrey. I wish I was, but I’ve got a Frisbee bruise over my eye to prove that I’m not.”
Just then a model type beauty queen chick called him away from us.
“Yeah, so much for not playing,” I muttered under my breath.
Carly heard me.
“Ohhh, you like him,” she moaned. “No! Yuck! Be strong. He is a player.” But then she thought better of it. “Well, if he’s going to get together with anyone, I’d rather it was you than the girls that are always buzzing around him.”
I bit my lip. “But like you said—he’s a player.”
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t play with you—unless he meant it. You live right next door and you’re practically his sister.”
“Right—that’s what he thinks of me as … his sister.”
“Well, no. The head noogies are a sister-thing. The rest of it is new. And cringe-worthy. But hey, if you like it.”
Well, I did. I liked it a lot.
I thought for sure Dutch was going to ask me out. I mean, the way he looked at me these days—yowza! But then one day when I was at Carly’s (aka: Dutch’s sister’s) she got a text from him. Well, really it was a group chat. I don’t think he realized Carly was part of the group’s chat, because his message wasn’t really something he’d text Carly about.
But his text said: “My plans got axed. I need a hot date. Anyone know an available girl I can use for the night to get my ex jealous?”
I watched as Carly typed, “I know someone.”
After a moment Dutch wrote back in a private message to Carly: “It can’t be Audrey, Carly.”
My heart sank reading that.
I felt like I’d been slugged in the stomach. How many times could he reject me? Even now when he stared at me like I’m chocolate and he’s starving to death. He still didn’t see me as dating material?
“I know where he’s going,” Carly told me, looking sympathetic. “You could just show up there—looking hot. And make him eat his words.”
I scoffed, “Right. Just show up.”
Though of course I didn’t even want to. Not now. Now I never wanted to lay eyes on him again. Jerk!
“It’s that fancy house at the top of the hill,” Carly said. “They’re throwing some sort of huge art party. They bought a bunch of his paintings. He’s not into parties like that, of course—they’ll have drinking and everything. But it’s business. He feels obligated to go. They’re his biggest supporters.”
“You should go,” Carly urged. “Make him drool.”
“No. At the moment I want to make him disappear—from the planet.” Then I muttered, “Or at least my life.”
But once I got home I started to re-think that strategy. I did want Dutch. I had always wanted Dutch. And now it had finally started to seem like he wanted me too. It did. I mean, despite that painful, horrible text. I swear, the boy couldn’t keep his eyes off me.
So, I was going to make sure he no longer saw me as a sister.… I was going to seduce him. Despite the fact he obviously didn’t want me to. ‘It can’t be Audrey, Carly.’ His words echoed in my brain, torturing me. Why couldn’t it be me?
Why?
Okay, I knew why. He saw me as a little sister—well, wanted to keep seeing me that way. But too bad. I wasn’t his sister. And I didn’t want him to see me as one.
‘It can’t be Audrey, Carly.’
It can’t be me?
Wrong!
It was so going to be me.
CHAPTER 13
I needed an outfit to seduce, and I was not going to find it in Carly’s closet. Or mine.
I went straight to the sexiest girl I knew. (Well, okay, she’s a bit of a skank, but whatever.) I’d had two full years of totally not trying to be sexy as I was waiting for my dream guy to come back and sweep me off my feet, but now I realized there would be no sweeping. Well, unless I did the sweeping.
But as I’d never tried, I had absolutely no idea how to ‘sweep’ or be sexy.
The girl I went to for the help was named Mallory and she had been on my cheerleading squad. (We just graduated). When she heard I wanted to seduce Dutch she squealed and was all eager for me to come over to her house for a make-over, which she seemed to imply I desperately needed. (Witch!!)
Anyway, she was eager to help with my endeavor.
“I hear Dutch is a really good kisser,” she said. “Like really, really good. In fact, my older sister calls him that—The Kisser.”
Super.
Not.
Since she goes on—“My sister compares all the guys she dates to Dutch. None of them compare. She says he’s ultra talented with his tongue and—”
“No!” I covered my ears, interrupting her yuck talk. I didn’t want visions of him with her sister invading my dreamy fantasies. I mean, seriously, yuck. “I don’t want to hear it. I just want to kiss him. Just me. I want to kiss him wild and then I want him to end up wanting me—bad. Then there will be confetti and unicorns and we’ll hold hands and ride off into the sunset.”
I say this last part junk because I know I’m being delusional. The dude is “The Kisser.” On what planet is he going to end up wanting me?—the girl that confessed she doesn’t like to kiss? And she cluelessly waited around for him for two years. (TWO YEARS!!!!) And then he said, “It can’t be Audrey, Carly.”
CHAPTER 14
After Mallory has me looking all hot and sexy, she hands me a fancy, fruity drink.
“It’s yummy,” she says. “I made it just for you. To calm your nerves.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, since I am really nervous. And thirsty.
I go to take a sip, but then think better about it as realization dawns in my nervous, frazzled brain. “Wait—does this have alcohol in it?”
I quickly set the glass down ‘cause I don’t drink. And I sure don’t want to start now. I want to have a level head when I go to that party. I want to rock Dutch’s world, not embarrass myself.
Mallory grins. “Relax. It’s totally virgin—just like you.”
“Oh, thanks.”
That was thoughtful of her. It does look really yummy. And I’m dying of thirst.
While Mallory is digging through her closet for her other shoe, I chug down the drink.
“Okay, lets go,” I tell her.
She blinks up at me, holding her shoe. “Wait, you drank the whole thing?”
I shrug. “Yeah, you said there was no alcohol in it.”
“Yeah, I lied.”
Man, I hate her.
“Wow, you drank the whole thing,” she says again with wonder.
She gives a little laugh. “This is going to be Dutch’s lucky night.”
CHAPTER 15
When we get to the party, Mallory has me wait in a room upstairs, since I feel sort of dizzy.
“I’ll find Dutch and have him come up here to you,” she says helpfully.
She instructs, “Wait here.”
“Okay,” I tell her, appreciating her being so helpful, since for some reason the room is kind of spinning. I feel like if I had to roam around the party looking for him I’d probably fall down or something.
So. Weird.
While I’m laying on the bed, I get this bright idea—one I never had before, though now I have absolutely no idea why. But it comes to me all excited and quick—I’ll have SEX with Dutch!! Suddenly, it seems like a wonderful idea. ‘Cause it’s supposed to be special—your first time, right?
Yeaaah, I want my first time to be with Dutch! So, why not right here? In this room. Tonight.
Right as I formulate this awesome plan, Dutch enters the room. I scramble off the bed and try to do a sexy pose, then realize it would have been sexier on the bed. D’oh. Oh well, I strike my best sexy pose, holding onto the bedpo
st. But even clutching it I feel like I might keel over. Of course that might be from these very high heel shoes—or more like, from the way he’s looking at me.
Dutch eyes me with a puzzled glint in his round, very wide at the moment, eyes. “You’re dressed … different.”
I try to sound all sexy. “Am I?”
He nods, looking even more puzzled. “Mallory said you wanted to talk to me.”
“No,” I tell him, grabbing him by his collar. “I want to kiss you.”
“Wait,” he grabs me by my wrists, dodging my efforts to get my mouth on his. He cocks his head to be eye-level with me. “Are you drunk?!”
I don’t answer. Things aren’t going the way I planned. He was supposed to be seduced—not fighting off my wonderful, tempting kisses. I become more insistent.
And change tactics.
Seductive, Audrey, I remind myself.
As I run my fingers through his awesome hair, he moans. I see his eyes go dreamy. Like this is a dream come true for him or something. (Ha!) (Sooo not brotherly!) I can work with this. Slowly, slowly I bring his hesitant face down, drawing his mouth near mine, then—wham! I crash my lips on his. I feel his surprised gasp and his heart speed up and his hungry mouth give into mine, surrendering.
For a glorious moment he’s kissing me back—yummily. But only for a second. Then he makes a tortured groan noise and drags his delicious mouth from mine.
“Audrey, you don’t want to do this. You’re drunk.
I pout. “Only a little. It’s Mallory’s fault. She tricked me,” I explain inanely. “She gave me this fancy fruity drink—but she promised it didn’t have alcohol. Only it did! A lot I guess. In the car ride here she tried making it seem okay. She said she gave it to me because I’m ‘uptight.’ So she gave me the drink to relax me—she gave it to me when she let me borrow clothes she said you would like.”
I tilt my head up at him. “Do you like them?”
He peeks down at me a second, his eyes looking hungry, but guarded and kind of … tortured. Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know. He looks in pain, actually. But he doesn’t answer. He blinks up at me instead. “Wait—you’re dressed like this for me?”
“Uh-huh.”
While he looks stunned, I start kissing him again. This time he doesn’t keep me at arm’s length. Instead, he tangles his hands in my hair, kissing me back with fervent passion. It’s like right out of my dreams.
Holy smokes!!!
I’m on fire.
And in heaven.
He edges me towards the bed.
CHAPTER 16
I wake up confused. My head is throbbing. Great, I’m sick.
I crack my eyes open (ouch!!).
Whoa!! Where am I?? I blink and gaze around the room. Weird. Seriously, where am I???
I have no idea.
The sun is peeking through the curtains of the windows, sooo … at least I know that—it’s not night. That’s the only clue I have about … anything.
I rub my eyes, trying to get the haze out of my brain and form a coherent thought.
Then—wham!
It hits’ me: I’m naked!!!!
Oh my gosh!!! What is going on?
My heart slamming violently against my chest, I scramble out of the bed, and quickly throw on the dress laying in a heap on the floor, starting to piece things together. Mallory had loaned me this dress, and she’d given me a drink, and led me here—to this room, and—and I was kissing Dutch all passionate, and his hands were in my hair—and—and—
Nothing.
That’s all I remember.
I’d been with Dutch, kissing him—
And now it’s morning, and I’m naked!!!
My heart ricochets off my ribcage, ‘cause I hear someone on the phone in the attached bathroom. Oh my gosh!! It’s a guy’s voice.
My heart thumps wild.
I was laying here naked, and there’s a GUY??!!
I want to just dash out of the room—disappear—forever. But I have to see who it is. Who was here with me.
I swallow. Who saw me naked?
I assume it’s Dutch. (!!!!)
The thought fills me with a jumble of emotions that I can’t even begin to sort out or process. It just makes my heart pound and my knees week, and my body ignite with heat and violent tremors.
I’m so filled with overpowering emotions I can barely move. But I have to see who it is.
The door to the bathroom is open a crack. As I shuffle closer to it I can start to hear the actual words being uttered, though the person is obviously trying to be quiet—you know, so I can sleep. Undisturbed. Naked.
Shivering, I peek through the crack in the door. It’s Dutch!!! Seeing him, my body goes up in flames. I was naked in front of Dutch??? My cheeks burn like they’re on fire.
I shudder. What did we do???
Trembling, I peek through the door again.
He’s on his cell phone, sitting on the bathroom counter with the back of his head pressed against the wall, thumping it slightly.
He squeezes his eyes shut and I hear the words he utters into the phone, “Look, I have a regretful situation here that I have to deal with somehow, then I’ll be right there.”
Pain slices through me.
Regretful situation? What, having sex with me?
It was regretful???
All the air whooshes out of me. I feel like I’ve been slugged in the stomach. Hard. By Dutch.
Oh, he does not have to deal with it.
I grab my shoes and run out of the house.
CHAPTER 17
I didn’t talk to Dutch for the rest of that summer. If we chanced to encounter each other in our yards, I’d look the other way. The thing was, though—he’d wince and look the other way too.
I swear, he literally winced whenever he saw me. It killed.
I hated him … but unfortunately, I yearned for him too. I mean, I had loved him forever. So I had this deep ache inside me. It wouldn’t go away, no matter what I did.
He ruined me.
I mean, we friggin’ SLEPT together. That is a huge deal—like major. Like there’s nothing bigger two people can do together. And yet I don’t even remember it. Not a thing. I was drunk and he took major advantage. It’s so heartbreakingly sad because of course I expected more of him. Way more. He’s always been so good. Mr. Church-Guy. Is that what they teach at his church? To take advantage of drunk girls?
He’s a low-life, creepy, dirt-bag.
I mean, we had SEX!!!
Sex!!!!
That thing I was saving for true love.
Gone.
Given to “The Kisser.”
… Okay, okay (cringe) I remember now that it was my fault. That I drunkenly planned to actually do it—have sex with him. But he took away my first time. I hadn’t even been present of mind enough to even remember a single thing about it. Not. One. Thing.
And now—now the creep wouldn’t even look at me.
He winced at the sight of me.
That was so painful.
It was like a slug in the gut every time I saw him. Wham, wham, wham.
Plus, I got a karate chop from Carly. Though she didn’t know she was hurting me. She just told me about her church one day, and their belief that you should wait until marriage to have sex. That would have been nice—to wait. To have it be so special and meaningful.
… to remember.
… and to have it with someone that actually loves you and wants to spend the rest of their life with you—not someone that winces at the sight of you, and walks the other way if he sees you.
Dutch hurt me so bad from that, seeing him always look away from me, totally avoid me. Seeing him now was like a knife being jabbed deep into my heart. Every time. It was so painful. Agonizing. He had been my idol. My hero. Yet he totally crushed me.
Abandoned me.
I was hurting so bad, and I felt so low that I actually started praying. Praying! Me. Really. One day when I was feeling weepy, I just remembe
red what Dutch told me—that praying always made him feel better. Well, I needed to feel better. Desperately.
The first time I did it, I was hesitant and awkward about it—praying. But Dutch had showed me how. So, I just did that, what he had done, I knelt at my bed and just talked to God. It felt so comforting. So I did it a lot.
Mostly I would just try to sort things out. But I’d also explain how hurt I was. God seemed to listen. Really. I mean, I felt like he cared. I felt hugged by Him—like at peace when I would kneel and talk to Him. I felt warm and comforted and … yeah, hugged—tight. So, I did it a LOT.
That’s what got me through that painful summer—talking to God.
But then it turned out Dutch went to the same college as me.
The first time I saw him was when I rounded a corner on campus and crashed into his (glorious) chest.
He grabbed my wrists, like to steady me. Then stared at me like he was looking at a ghost. Or an angel. He swallowed. “Audrey, hi.”
I snatched my arms away from him.
He sure hadn’t winced from the sight of me this time, definitely not, but he winced now at that—me struggling away from him. He looked tortured.
“Are you still upset about that night?” he asked.
“I’ll be upset about it until the day I die,” I snarled at him and charged down the hallway.
He called after me, “Audrey, it wasn’t that big of a deal—really! I swear!”
Chills went down my spine. I saw spots before my eyes, I was so mad.
I whipped back around to him. “Not a big deal?! It was a huge deal!—the hugest!” I glared at him. “You’re supposed to be ‘The Church Boy’ but all you really are is ‘The Kisser.’”
He raised his eyebrows at that. Then he lowered them and scrunched them up like he had no idea what I was talking about. In fact he said that, “What are you talking about?”
Okay, it’s possible he didn’t know about his nicknames. But I wasn’t going to enlighten him. Not on anything except what I had to say next.
Want To Hate You ... Too Bad I Love You Page 14
