The Guys Are Props Club

by Ingrid Seymour

  As if sensing my gaze on him, Sebastian’s eyes snapped my way. They were on me so quickly I didn’t have time to hide behind my book. Caught staring, I had no choice but to try to act as natural as possible. I gave him a small wave and afterward buried my nose between the pages of the novel, cursing my lamentable lack of smoothness.

  To my dismay, I found myself going over the same paragraph over and over. My attention wasn’t on the words anymore. I was too busy trying to see what was in my peripheral vision. Frustrated, I snapped the book shut and started shoving food down my throat at a prodigious rate. My best bet was to get out of there.

  “Hi, Madison.”

  I startled and looked up, cheeks full like a chipmunk’s. Sebastian stood there, holding his food tray in all his unshaven and freshly-showered glory.

  Chapter 10

  I made a sound in the back of my throat that kind of sounded like “hello,” then hurried to chew my food.

  “Do you mind if I sit with you?” Sebastian asked.

  I blamed the food stuck in my throat for my inability to refuse. He slid into the chair across from me as I washed away the obstruction with a big gulp of soda. God, I so needed to learn to compose myself around him. This was starting to become embarrassing.

  Oblivious to good manners, I looked toward the table where he’d been sitting with his friends.

  “They had to leave,” Sebastian said. “Since you and I are friends,” the word stretched out of his mouth in a suggestive manner that sent a tingling down my back, “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I sat with you.”

  God, what a two-timing bastard! He had kissed Jessica last night, and now he was flirting with me.

  He speared a bite of broccoli with his fork and popped it in his mouth. As he chewed, I examined his plate. He had grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. I wondered if he always ate that healthy and concluded that he probably did. Lean, muscular bodies like his took a lot of care, attention and bland food.

  “What are you up to today?” he asked. “I see you’re getting ahead on our English assignments.” He pointed at my book with his fork.

  I cleared my throat and decided, right then and there, that from now on, whenever I saw Sebastian—who of course I would still try to avoid as best I could—I would be myself and I would act like a normal adult. I knew I kept telling myself that, but I would really do it this time.

  “Yes, I am,” I said in a composed, very adult tone. “I have to try to get ahead. You know, heavy workload and all.” I figured a reminder of how busy I was couldn’t hurt.

  “I like people who know what they want.” He smiled. His teeth were perfectly white and straight. He licked his bottom lip when he noticed me watching his mouth. “Do you always eat here?”

  I nodded. “It’s impossible to pass up free food.” When I noticed his questioning look, I added, “My scholarship puts money in my dining account.”

  “Cool. You must be really smart.”

  I shrugged.

  “Smart is sexy in my book,” he said with a glint in his eye.

  The compliment made me feel all warm inside, but I did my best to hide it. “I don’t think that’s the sort of comment friends make to each other.”

  “Of course it is. Friends,” again he gave the word a deeper meaning than it should have, “are honest with each other. Right?”

  “Yeah, honest,” I said under my breath. No one was being honest at this table. I worked on my meal, trying not to look like I was hurrying. I needed to keep my exposure to Sebastian as brief as possible.

  Rule No.9: Recognize when you’re in over your head.

  “You’re coming to the dance lesson Monday, right?” Sebastian asked.

  “Uh, no. I’m not.”

  He looked up from his plate. “You have to.”

  “Sorry, I can’t.”

  “Cristina said she would waive the fee. She doesn’t mind. She loves teaching.” Sebastian put his fork down and steepled his fingers over his plate.

  “That’s nice of her, but I’d rather not. I would feel like I was taking advantage of her. Besides, I don’t have time.” I chewed a little faster, hardly tasting my food.

  “Too bad,” he said, looking away as if he were reflecting on something.

  Looking at his perfect profile made my knees feel shaky. His jet-black eyebrow dipped toward his cheekbone, going from thick to narrow in a perfect arch. A muscle in his jaw worked, then he turned to face me again.

  He sighed. “I guess I might as well skip, too.”

  “What? Why?”

  Propping his elbow on the table, he then took a finger to his mouth and ran it across the length of his full lower lip. In all honesty, the action had a contemplative quality, but I found it hard to believe he didn’t know how sexy it made him look.

  After a few seconds, he answered, “It’s not worth going if you’re not there.”

  I frowned, trying to process that comment.

  Noticing my confusion, he added, “You know, I’m enjoying getting to know you. I see in you a lot of qualities that I like in a friend. Your presence there was a definite incentive.”

  I was dimly aware that I wasn’t eating fast anymore—or at all. He wasn’t making sense. Why would Sebastian refuse to go if I wasn’t there?

  “I thought Cristina needed you to help with the class,” I said.

  “A few more guys signed up, so she doesn’t need my help anymore. And if she does at some point, she has plenty of other friends who can lend a hand.”

  “But what about Jessica?” There, I’d said it.

  Sebastian’s eyes darkened. He didn’t look very pleased about my question. “What about her?”

  “I mean, you two guys . . . you know.”

  “No. I don’t know,” he said defensively.

  “It’s none of my business.” I pushed my plate away and started on my dessert. No way was I leaving my apple pie behind on account of Sebastian.

  “What did she tell you?” Sebastian’s question was a bit forceful.

  I shook my head and decided the pie wasn’t worth it, after all. I started gathering my things. “I have to go.”

  “She told me she felt sick,” Sebastian began. “After you left me at Jessica’s mercy, she said she wasn’t feeling good.”

  I had my messenger bag on my lap, ready to stand, but I stopped and looked up.

  Sebastian went on. “She asked me if I could take her to the pharmacy to buy some medicine. I took her and we went in. After picking up some Tylenol, she went to the condom section.”

  I cringed.

  Sebastian shook his head. “When we went back to the car, she practically attacked me. I’m a . . . warm-blooded guy. A pretty girl like that jumps your bones, well, it takes a lot to resist the temptation.”

  I huffed, a quick exhale of air through my nose. “So you made out. Hey, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain that to me. It’s none of my business.”

  “I don’t think she was happy when I . . . peeled her off of me. I told you last night. I’m not interested in Jessica. And I stand by that. Her little stunt didn’t change my mind. On the contrary.”

  Forgetting my own remark about it not being any of my business, I said, “And that’s why you two were gone for almost two hours?”

  “Two hours?” he shook his head, causing a strand of silky hair to come loose from his now dry hair. “I brought her right back after the pharmacy.”

  I said nothing, wondering where Jessica had gone. Had she pretended to be gone that long on purpose? I saw no reason for that. If anyone was lying it had to be Sebastian. He was probably trying to get two girls for the price of one. Even if my gut thought he was telling the truth, I shouldn’t listen to it.

  Rule No.11: When it comes to players, never trust your gut. As it relates to the opposite sex, millions of evolutionary years have conditioned you to confuse your gut with your loins.

  I stuffed my novel inside my bag, grabbed my tray and stood. “I have to go.”


  “Hey,” Sebastian called out after I took a couple of steps. I looked back over my shoulder.

  “So you were still up when Jessica got back?”

  The bastard had the audacity to smile.

  I narrowed my eyes at him and considered a few answers, but giving him one felt like admitting something he had no right to know. So I simply left after raising a contemptuous eyebrow at him. I almost went back and smacked him when I heard his deep, satisfied chuckle.

  Chapter 11

  Saturday afternoon, I entered the locker room at work and found Lola already changing into a pair of hot pink scrubs.

  “Nice scrubs,” I said. “New?”

  “Oh hey, Maddie. Yep, they’re new. You like?”

  “Very cute.” After finding an empty locker, I pulled my old scrubs from my bag.

  “How was the Latin club? Did you end up going?” Lola pulled her many braids into a tight bun at the top of her head, stretching the skin at her temples back. It looked painful, but she didn’t seem bothered.

  “I did. It was a happening place.”

  “Sounds like I should check it out.”

  “Yeah, you should. It was fun seeing all the couples dancing.”

  “So how did things go with Sebastian?” Lola asked, pronouncing his name as if we were discussing a piece of decadent dessert.

  I sighed. “The guy’s a dog.”

  “Do tell,” Lola said, straddling the bench and turning all her attention to me.

  I saw no harm in sharing with Lola what had happened. “Well, when he picked us up, he was totally flirting with me, but later he kissed Jessica—although he claims she kissed him.”

  Lola crossed her arms and frowned. “Something smells fishy in that story.”

  “Yeah, he’s trying to play the both of us. Maybe he wants a threesome or something.” I stuck my tongue out and gagged.

  “Not that there’s anything wrong with a threesome . . .”

  “Lola, you’re terrible,” I interjected.

  She disregarded my comment completely. “But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. I put money on Sebastian. I bet he’s the one telling the truth.”

  “You don’t even know the guy,” I protested.

  “But I know Jessica,” Lola stood and slipped on her shoes.

  “You met her once.”

  “And that was enough. But you’re the one who lives with her. You know her better, right?”

  “Sure,” I said, sounding anything but sure.

  Lola tsked at me, but added nothing else.

  Later, I had the unpleasant assignment of collecting bedpans. I did my duty bravely with a surgical mask over my mouth and latex gloves up to my elbows. When I finished my four-hour shift, I stopped by Hunter’s room. I tiptoed in with the idea of surprising him and immediately regretted it.

  I found him curled up in the bed, knees against his chest, sobbing.

  When he saw me, he rolled to face the window and rubbed his face furiously. His chest was moving up and down in violent spasms.

  “Are you okay, buddy? I mean Hunter?”

  He sniffled and gasped for air.

  “Does something hurt? Do you want me to call the nurse? They can get you something to make it better.” I looked from the bed to the door, unsure of what to do.

  “No,” he said, out of breath.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just leave.” He barely got the words out.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to leave until I know you’re alright.”

  “I’m alright, so leave.”

  “Hey, don’t be mean.” I inched closer to the bed, feeling less worried. It didn’t seem as though there was anything physically wrong with him. When I reached the foot of the bed, he buried his face in the pillow to hide.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked in a gentle voice. “Did something happen?”

  He shook his head, making the fabric of the pillow rustle.

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “’Cause I’m stupid.” His voice was muffled.

  I sat at the edge of the bed and put a hand on his foot. “And why is that?”

  He pulled his leg away.

  “You can trust me, you know?” I said. “I won’t tell anybody. Your stupidity will be our secret.”

  “Ha, ha,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

  “I’m stupid sometimes, too.”

  He didn’t answer, so I stood and went around the room, straightening things. I folded a blanket that had fallen to the floor and stacked his video games in a neat pile. When I looked back, he was sitting on the bed, his eyes and nose red from crying. The rest of his face was pale.

  “Like when? When were you stupid?” Hunter ran a hand across his eyes and stuffed the oxygen tube back into his nose.

  “This very morning,” I said, sitting at the edge of the narrow, faux-leather sofa. I watched carefully to make sure his breathing returned to normal. “What did you do?” he asked.

  “I gave this jerk I know the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t think he deserves it.”

  “Then give him,” he paused and took a breath, “a kick in the butt instead.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”

  “You want me to beat him up for you?” His breathing was still agitated, but closer to normal. Relief gradually washed over me.

  The thought of bony, little Hunter going up against Sebastian made me cringe.

  “What?” he demanded. “You don’t think I can take him? I don’t fight fair, you know. Cancer kids never do. We wouldn’t stand a chance if we played by the rules.”

  “Well, in that case, if you ever have the chance to meet him, you can kick him in the balls.”

  At first, Hunter’s eyes opened wide, but when the shock of what I’d said wore off, he wrapped his thin arms around his belly and laughed. That put a much-needed smile on my own face and also put my problems in perspective. There I was, worried about frivolous crap, when Hunter had real problems that needed true strength.

  Over the next twenty minutes, we played chess. He had a small magnetic set with pieces that looked like Star Wars characters. He beat me twice (I was that bad) and taunted me every time, laughing and poking my arm with a stiff little finger. I loved to see a smile on his face, so I refrained from asking about his reason for crying, for fear of making him sad again.

  “Well, I’d better go,” I said, after looking at the time on my cell phone. “I’ve got homework to do.”

  “Yuck.” Hunter stuck his tongue out.

  “Yuck is right.” I ruffled his hair.

  He drew his eyebrows together and a somber expression came over his features. “They were supposed to visit today. My parents and my sister.”

  I said nothing, worried that he might not go further if I interrupted him, but I made sure to show him he had my full attention. I looked him straight in the eye and nodded.

  “They’re moving today. They sold our old house and bought a new one. I loved our old house.” His head hung low, almost touching his chin. “They can’t afford it anymore, ‘cause of all the medical bills.” He took a deep, wavering breath. “The movers didn’t show up on time. I know they’d be here if they could, but it still hurts.”

  The back of my eyes burned, and I blinked several times trying not to let my emotions show.

  “Thank you for stopping by,” he looked up, his gaze shining with unshed tears. “You made today a lot better.”

  ***

  The rest of the weekend, I read ahead on my novel as well as my biology textbook. While most students took the first few weeks of school easy, I had learned early on that staying ahead worked best for me. If I was familiar with the topic before the lecture, I remembered everything better come exam time.

  Monday, I went through the day unable to push away the notion that at 8 p.m. there was a certain dance lesson going on at the student center. At least G.A.P. didn’t have a meeting this week. I was glad for that. Ar
ound 3 p.m., as I left art history class, I received Jessica’s first text message.

  Jessica: “U going to dance class, right?”

  Me: “No”

  Jessica: “Mad, we went over this”

  Me: “FYI, Sebastian won’t be there”

  There, it was out. I had avoided letting her know all weekend long. Texting made this sort of thing a lot easier.

  Jessica: “WTF??!!!”

  Me: “I ran into him. He said he couldn’t go.”

  Jessica: “Shit. I’ll call him.”

  And that was that. If I had told her in person, this conversation would have gone a lot differently. It would have involved questions such as, “where did you run into him?” or, “why isn’t he going?” This last one, especially, I wanted to avoid.

  Monday wasn’t a workday, so I spent the rest of the afternoon at the library, finishing my chemistry homework and getting further ahead on my reading. Around 6 p.m., my stomach started to rumble, so I headed over to the food court. As I ordered two slices of pepperoni pizza, I spotted Jessica. I was about to walk in her direction when I noticed her dinner companion was none other than Sebastian.

  Unnoticed, I quickly turned and decided it would best to leave. I grabbed a to-go box and transferred my food. As I sneaked out, I threw one last glance over my shoulder… just in time to see Jessica run her fingers through Sebastian’s thick hair.

  ***

  My first class on Tuesday was English. I walked there wishing Sebastian had dropped it. I didn’t want to have to endure a whole semester of his two-faced lies. For only an instant, I considered dropping the class myself, but I wasn’t about to let him ruin my whole class schedule.

  When I walked into the auditorium, I kept my eyes on the floor and sat in the first available seat. It didn’t take long for Sebastian to find his way to me.

  “Hey, friend.” He sat down and started digging in his backpack. He pulled out a notebook and a dog-eared copy of The Road. “I finished it,” he said, tapping the novel with his index finger.