by Anne Eliot
Vere’s heart soared. She couldn’t believe how cool this was. She was twelve inches from a guy and talking about girls, and boyfriends, and making out, and life. And it felt normal.
She could hear Dustin’s feet splashing in the water somewhere next to hers but didn’t want to risk a look at him. Her tummy did another little flip.
He went on, “I can only speak for myself but I’ve spent my fair share of time on the fan pedestals.”
“I can imagine, but...isn’t it cool to be admired?”
“No, and yes. But the pedestal thing bites. The girls, the ones that have me on that pedestal, are all the same. They even look weird. Scary. It’s their eyes mostly. I feel like I can spot this hungry, glazed over, excited gleam when they look at me. Makes me want to crawl out of my skin. It’s the wrong kind of excitement. It’s so strange, but they will do whatever I ask them to do when they are like that. It’s a total turn off.”
“Why? I thought all guys loved it when girls were easy—or whatever.”
“It took me a long time to figure that out. The weird part comes from the fact that the girls aren’t meeting me, they are meeting who they imagine I am, you know?”
Vere nodded and closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of his rumbling voice as it floated over her. “Yeah. I’ve done that. Stared at posters of guys, or movie characters and imagined totally what they’d be like if they were with me. Everyone does that. It’s what fans do.”
“Yeah, but fan adoration is impossible to live up to. No one can be that perfect. So if you have this Wishford guy on a pedestal, maybe you’re doing that weird ‘fan behavior’ with him. If so, it could make it difficult for you to have a real conversation with him and so—you freak. That’s what my fans do. They just scream, and cry, and babble stuff like, oooh-my-God-I-love-you-so-much and act generally insane when they meet me.”
“Impossible. I’ve known Curtis forever. I’m sure I’m not imagining what he’s like. I must already know. He’s the perfect guy for me. Is that putting him on a pedestal?” She opened her eyes and looked for his response.
Dustin shrugged. “All girls—the ones I’ve managed to get close to anyhow, seem to have this messed up fairy tale idea. They all imagine, universally, that they were THE ONE GIRL that I was going to just fall in love with, simply because we’d made it to the hooking up stuff. They acted as if I was going to start calling them or emailing them every day when I got home after we’d—you know....Why do girls go there?”
“I don’t know. You must be onto something though. I can confirm that Jenna and I are all dreamy-goofy like that about movie stars. Like if Leonardo DiCapprio were 25 years younger, and he met me—I’m sure that he’d fall in love with me on sight.”
“You are such a twisted person. Leo is older than your dad!”
“But not in the Romeo and Juliet remake. He’s forever young there. And he loves me. ME,” she joked, but then sobered. “Sorry. Go on. Tell me. What’s it like then, from your side if the famous person doesn’t fall in love with the adoring fan?”
“I can only speak for myself. But...after awhile, the whole scene of the adoring girls bummed me out. I knew I wouldn’t fall in love with any of them. The longest I’d spent hooking up with a girl backstage was for a few hours. We locked ourselves in a cleaning closet and she had so much stamina that we...”
“Okay, coach. TMI. Stop on the specifics. I’m sorry I asked.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for taking you from a G rating to an R.”
She scowled at the sarcasm in his voice and was rewarded with his flash of teasing, light blue eye twinkles.
“Hey. I’m at least a PG-13 kind of girl.”
He laughed again. “The official definition of PG-13 includes foul language and kissing and you haven’t crossed either boundary. Do you ever use foul language?” he asked in a stern, comical voice.
“Yes. Of course. And just because I haven’t done—stuff—doesn’t mean I don’t know stuff. I read books. And watch MTV. Movies.”
He raised one brow really high.
“Oh—never mind. Stop trying to change the—the—damn subject,” she said in an attempt to prove she could curse.
Her cheeks had flushed to mark her a total fraud, and he chuckled.
“Ugh.” She turned away in frustration and he laughed louder.
“I bet you led some of those girls on.” She already sensed that he probably hadn’t, but she wanted to dig at him a little for embarrassing her.
“No. I did not. I made sure the girls who were—willing—were also well aware I wouldn’t call them afterwards. I made that very clear.”
“Ew. That’s weird and creepy. Especially the part where the girls still stuck around for the hook-up after you’d told them all that.”
“Well, they did. But I felt bad about it, so like six months before I....”
He stopped and looked away and took in a deep, almost shaky sounding breath before going on, “Six months before I came here, I’d stopped hanging out with girls all together. I’d sort of given up on them. Given up on trying to make a connection with anyone. I’d worked so many hours. And the thing with my mom—I got tired. I sort of turned into a hermit.”
Vere looked at him as she readjusted her bun so she could rest her head flat on the dock. “This whole story of your dating life—or non-dating life you could call it—makes me go back to that idea I have of you that you’re from another planet.”
“I am. Compared to you, I’m a jaded, black-hearted, dark-sided, cold, bastard, ass. That’s the truth. I feel like some type of innocence despoiler for even hanging out with you and telling you my stories.”
She glanced over and he was regarding her as though he believed what he’d just said. “Oh please. Unless you’re going to tell me you’re secretly a vampire and your wealthy, gorgeous family is hiding in the woods wondering why you don’t just bite me already, you can just leave your ‘big bad wolf’ front for someone else. You aren’t fooling me. I think you’re just afraid, like me. Like any, normal, anyone is afraid. You simply didn’t give any of those girls a chance to be your girlfriend.”
“Hear me right, it’s not a front. I never went into any of those hook-ups wanting a girlfriend. I wanted to hook up. That’s it. I did not, nor do I today, ever, want a girlfriend.”
She flushed again. “But why?”
“To me, a girlfriend is just another person who would want me to perform for them in some way. At the end of my days, I don’t seem to have any performing left in me. After the sex, it’s too much damn trouble to hold a conversation with any of them.”
“WHAT?” Vere sat up straight and brought her legs under her, crisscross. She glared down at him. He hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you just inspiring! I wonder if all guys think that?"
Dustin stretched and sat up. “I don’t know. Maybe you know guys who are coming from a more normal place. All I know is that boyfriends are supposed to be able to make their girlfriends happy for more than one hour. I do not have that capacity.”
“Duh. And duuuuh! Yes you do. Everyone does.” She had the strangest urge to clock him just then so she yanked out her bun and remade it back in its normal spot to keep her hands busy. She could not randomly whack him, no matter how stupid he sounded. “This is what goes on in guys’ heads?” she ranted.
Wait till she got Charlie alone to confirm his thoughts on this topic! Wait till she told Jenna!
She threw her arms into the air, trying not to yell, “But— but—having a girlfriend—being a couple, and all that—it’s supposed to not feel like work or like an imposition. It’s supposed to just happen, easily and naturally. Isn’t it? Why do you make it sound like that?”
He frowned. “Like what? I was just being honest. Damn, girl, you asked me. I told you what I could.”
“You made it sound empty. Void. Terrible. And so...cold. You’ve lost all the romance.”
Dustin shook his head. “God. Romance. You would go there. Roma
nce is every girl’s messed-up fantasy involving flowers, and poetry, and piles of fake crap. I—guys—don’t know how to handle all that. Anyone who does is so faking it. Any girl who falls for it—I’m sad for them, because they’re victims of marketing!”
“What? What?” Vere sputtered. “If there are flowers and cute stuff, it’s because the couple cares about each other and they want to do sweet things to show their love to each other. It isn’t a job. As for the poetry—you’re a songwriter! Are the zillions of love songs on the planet not real? Jeez.”
“GuardeRobe doesn’t have any love songs. But you wouldn’t know that, now would you?”
She gasped, and her heart twisted painfully. “Well there you go! Another reason not to like your band. I’m sad for you. It’s a total waste of a whole band if they don’t sing love songs, so there!” She shot his words back at him. “I think—if you’ve only had the hook-ups—then you’ve missed all the good, sweet stuff. What about the everyday kisses? And making out on the couch? Or the hand-holding where you don’t even make out but you’re just daydreaming together?”
He sat up too. “Is that what your pillow taught you? Or is this all coming from favorite books and movies?”
Vere glared huge bullets into his stupid, blue eyes. “What about the butterflies in your stomach? Do guys not have the butterflies, at least? Come on. I know those are real for me because I’ve felt them. Please, say they are real to guys.”
His gaze caught hers in a tangled, confused, half-angry way and he turned away. When he didn’t answer, only stared at the lake, she felt her cheeks flush.
She wondered if she’d hurt his feelings.”I—I shouldn’t have yelled.”
His voice sounded rough, sarcastic, and somehow lost when he finally turned back to her. “I can confirm the existence of guy butterflies. But it’s not something that’s advertised. Okay?”
“Well...that’s something,” she said under her breath, all of the fight going out of her.
Vere pulled her sneakers next to her, unable to hold her thoughts in order as a huge, random blush attack set in. She tried to talk her way through it. “Boy. This BGF thing is a total eye opener. As if. Well, I don’t know anything about guys, you’re right. And...I guess I’m sorry I asked. I’m glad you gave me a reality check, though. Maybe I am like those groupie girls. Too caught up in the fairy tale versions of love.”
“Vere—I—”
She couldn’t stop herself. “No. It’s good for me to hear this. I need a friend like you. See, butterflies are the only thing I’ve ever had when it comes to romance and guys. And mostly, you’re right. I’ve found them in books and movies—and all over the cast of Teen Wolf.” She shot him a sheepish smile. “Not going to lie. What I’m trying to say is...that I love those butterflies. I search for them endlessly. Real or not, I have to imagine they are going to lead me to something real. And awesome.”
Vere could feel her flush deepening but she couldn’t stop her mouth from motoring on, “Maybe I believe all this junk because I’m a total dork. A real one. Not like you—pretending to be a dork. You wouldn’t understand what that feels like. I live your hellish disguise every single day and it’s permanent.”
“Vere, you aren’t a dork. Not even close. You’re just shy.”
“Whatever. I’m not ashamed of it. And being shy puts me smack in the outcast-dork-nerd category. If we are truly going to be friends the next few weeks or months, then you need to get this about me.”
He shook his head.
“No. Don’t say anything. You’ve only seen and known me here. But out there—back in the real world? I know my deal—my assets—just like you do. I’ve got no magic-hat and glasses trick to pull off where I return to fabulous. I can’t stop a whole room of people breathing because of my eye color. I’m the one who’s already fainted on the floor and made a fool out of myself because I saw your eye color. Get me?”
“So why does that make you sound so angry? Are you mad at me for how I look? For trying to be totally honest from my own heart?”
She shrugged. “No. Of course not. I’m only mad because I thought I was waiting for some boy to come along who believes in romance. If I ever find him, well then—it’s going to take him a really long time to get me out of that dead faint before he can even find my lips to plant a first kiss on them.”
“Vere—I didn’t mean to—”
“No. Let me finish. What if I wait—and I think I’ve found that guy—and he turns out to think exactly like you deep down inside? What if that guy just wants to sleep with me and pretends he’s happy he got me roses. And he did all that romance crap for that singular goal and not for—for love and butterflies?!! Then I’ve been waiting all this time—and for what? Maybe—I—”
“Okay. I’m going to stop you here, before you blow a fuse.”
His low voice grounded her.
She sucked in a deep breath, relieved he’d broken into her endless chatter.
He’d done that yesterday too.
It was as though he understood she couldn’t stop herself when she got like this, and he somehow knew exactly how to help.
She blinked at him and tried to replay what she’d just said in front of him. Hopefully nothing too humiliating had bumbled out. She gave him an apologetic and very grateful smile. She had to admit it was nice to have a friend who didn’t judge her for exploding like that. “Thanks. I lost it.”
“Yes. But it’s partly my fault. I flooded your brain with my mad life, and I egged you on.” He smiled back and kindly didn’t address her still flaming face.
“Did you? Well, then yeah, it’s all your fault, you jaded, romance-bubble-buster.”
He moved a small piece of hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know what’s real when it comes to love and romance. I’ve never had either, okay? But I do know I wouldn’t recognize the sweet stuff you talk about if it were a bus running me over. My exposure is too skewed. I’m permanently broken in that area.”
Dustin pulled his feet out of the water. He pushed himself back and stretched his legs out to dry them in the sun. “Your—untried version of what dating should be seems way better than what I’ve been doing. My BGF advice to you is to carry on and believe. I’m sure I’m wrong.”
“For the sake of the whole universe, I hope so, Mr. Vader.”
He smiled, and shot her a sidelong glance. “I’m glad you finally believe me. After this, I think we’re well past formalities. Please, call me Darth.”
She couldn’t even laugh because his expression seemed so forlorn.
She felt utterly sorry for the guy sitting next to her. He seemed so lonely. He’d just told her so much about himself, she now felt like she’d known him for a really long time. “Your toes are all wrinkly,” she told him.
“Yours too. They're so tiny compared to mine.” His voice had turned quiet.
Vere darted a glance at his face again. She leaned to the side and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Look. If I don’t have time to say it before tomorrow, I just want you to know this weekend and all the time you’ve given to—talking to me and helping me through—my issue—has meant a lot.”
He laughed low, as he pulled on his socks and shoes. “Vere. It’s been a pleasure. Truly. You are the one who deserves the thanks, for helping me suit-up and hide-out. You’re really an awesome person—for a dork.”
He stood and when she was finished with her shoes, he helped her to her feet. “You’re awesome too,” she said. “Despite the part where you should probably keep hold of your therapist forever,” she added, tossing him a light smile so he’d know she was joking.
“Oh, I will.” He grinned.
She was so filled up with this strange gratitude toward him that when he turned back to face her she just needed to hug him.
So she did.
“Oof.” Dustin staggered back. “Thanks. I think.”
The feel of the warm sunshine that had heated his shirt, mixed with his fresh-soap smell enveloped her. His chest wa
s so solid. She could feel his heart beating near her ear.
He hugged her back for a second—or—was it a lot of seconds?
She’d heard hundreds of lightning fast heartbeats inside his chest before he set her away from him.
It must have been lots of seconds.
AWKWARD. Hopefully he didn’t notice.
Ugh. What was there to notice? It was just a hug. That’s all.
Mortified, she avoided his gaze completely and walked ahead so he wouldn’t see her flaming cheeks. As she jumped off the dock she chose a flippant, confident voice in case he’d noticed anything was off.
Because nothing is off. Not at all.
“Come along, my Dustin McHugh, let’s head for home.”
“Can you do me a favor?” he asked from behind.
“Sure.”
“Stop calling me ‘my’ Dustin McHugh. It’s sort of—distracting.”
“It is? Sure. Sure. Sorry.” She stopped and turned to look at him with a frown, feeling sad about his request. And then she really looked at him. His cap was off and his badly chopped up hair had softened into thick, dark, curling waves.
Somehow, that made him look even more handsome than the first time she’d seen him with his fancy salon haircut. His perfect chin was more pronounced thanks to a slight tan and the fact that his lips were all serious and frowning.
As he strode smoothly along the path, minus his long practiced dork gait, her Dustin McHugh looked slightly like a blue-eyed panther.
If there were blue-eyed panthers...and...whatever.
I can still call him ‘mine’ inside my own head.
Because he kind of is...mine...
“Can you do me a favor back?” Her voice cracked. She had to look way up into his shuttered gaze, as he closed the distance between them.
He stopped in front of her and quickly locked his arms behind his back. Maybe he was afraid she’d hug him again.
“Anything, like I said. Ask me anything.” His voice seemed different, gravelly deep as usual, but it sounded wary and slightly perplexed. His gaze seemed to be travelling all over her entire face. She had the oddest sensation he’d been staring at her lips like she’d been staring at his.
