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by Jessica Burkhart

  Hi! That would b great! Meet u there in 45 mins?

  Drew:

  Cool C u soon.

  “All right,” Mr. Davidson said. “You should have finished the section on memoirs. Let’s discuss.”

  I hurried to scan the last half page.

  “Khloe,” Mr. Davidson said. “What would make you pick up a memoir?”

  Khloe looked at our teacher. “The topic. If I related to the author, I’d want to read it. Or, if it was interesting, I’d probably read it.”

  Mr. Davidson moved around the room asking questions. Luckily, he didn’t call on me. If he had, I probably would have said, “The Autobiography of Drew Adams sounds good.”

  “Text me after!” Khloe said. We stood outside the English building with Clare, who’d walked out with us after class.

  “I will,” I said. “Do I look okay?” When I’d gotten dressed this morning, I hadn’t planned on meeting Drew for lunch.

  “You look great,” Khloe said. “Perfect for a lunch date.”

  “Yeah,” Clare said. “Effortlessly chic.”

  “Thanks, guys,” I said. My messenger bag was on the ground, and I was checking lip gloss with a compact mirror and finger-combing my waves. I dropped my mirror into my bag and smoothed my Calvin Klein heather-gray three-quarter-sleeve shirt, ran my hands over the tops of my black skinny jeans, and made sure my ebony leather ballet flats with tiny bows were dirt free.

  “Go,” Khloe said. “You’ll have a great time.”

  With one last smile at her and Clare, I turned in the opposite direction of the cafeteria and started for The Sweet Shoppe. The high September sun warmed my skin and I squinted to see. Other students with the same lunch time or free period had the same idea as Drew. They headed in the direction of The Slice or The Sweet Shoppe, or picnicked on the grass. Under a shady maple tree, two blond girls—one with darker, long blond hair and the other with a platinum chin-length bob—had spread a giant purple blanket and sipped Diet Coke and chatted.

  I focused on the students, trying not to get inside my head about lunch with Drew. I could do this. I’d done this. It was just lunch with a guy. I’d dated Taylor for five months, but this felt different somehow. I really wanted this to go well. Drew was cute, funny, and a rider.

  A week ago, I would have texted Ana, Brielle, or Becca. I would have told them how nervous I was about meeting Drew, how I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, and how I wasn’t sure if it was too soon after Taylor.

  Today, as I reached the steps of The Sweet Shoppe, I didn’t need to ask anyone for their opinion. I wanted to trust my gut—New Lauren did that. It didn’t mean I wasn’t going to go to my friends, but it did make me feel stronger. Becca would be proud.

  I walked inside The Sweet Shoppe, my mood lifting instantly from the delicious smells. The store was less crowded than usual since most students were at lunch or in class. I shifted my bag and glanced around the room, stepping away from the line and toward the clusters of tables.

  Immediately, I spotted Drew. He wasn’t hard to miss. His black hair, medium length and slightly curly, was shocking against his skin. He raised a hand, smiling. I started toward him, weaving around tables and people, not seeing anything but his sapphire-blue eyes.

  “Hi,” I said, reaching him.

  “Hey, Laur,” Drew said. “That looks heavy.” He reached over and lifted my bag from my shoulder, taking it from me. “Is this table okay? We can move if you want.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. Drew had chosen a cute square table. The white table had two matching chairs—white with sky-blue polka dots.

  “Cool,” Drew said. He pulled out a chair, motioning for me to sit.

  “Thanks,” I said. I loved that Drew was one of those boys. He pulled out his date’s chair. Definitely something to tell Becs when we talked.

  Drew sat across from me, putting my bag next to his black backpack.

  “I’m glad you were free,” Drew said. “I see you with Lexa and Khloe a lot. You guys seem close.”

  “We are,” I said, smiling. “Khloe is . . .” I laughed. “Khloe’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She’s become my best friend. You won’t want to hear the long story of what she did when we first met, but I will say it’s never boring to have an actress as a roommate.”

  “I like long stories,” Drew said. “What if I get us something to eat and you tell me over lunch?”

  I had a crazy hot and cold flash all at once. “That sounds great,” I managed to get out. “You better order lots of food for yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you that it was a long story.”

  Winking, Drew picked up the menu and slid it between us. “I’ll order two of everything to be safe.” He took my order and headed up to the counter.

  This was très parfait! I couldn’t fight liking Drew if I tried. I peeked over my shoulder, and Drew was still a couple of people away from the counter. I leaned down and grabbed my phone from my bag.

  Lauren:

  UM, we haven’t even started talking or eating, but he is SO CUTE!

  A BBM came back seconds later.

  Khloe:

  !! Ahhh! I knew it would b amaze!

  Lauren:

  He pulled out my *chair.* Who does that anymore??

  Khloe:

  No 1 except 4 nice guys like Drew.

  Lauren:

  GTG but OMG! Can’t wait 2 tell u abt it ltr.

  Khloe:

  Lex is w me & she said 2 tell u she’s freaking out. TTYL!

  I put my phone away before Drew came back. He stopped in front of our table, balancing trays. I took the cardboard holder with two of The Sweet Shoppe’s signature hot-beverage cups and plastic lids. Drew put down everything else.

  “Thank you so much,” I said.

  “No problem,” Drew said. He sat, pushing a huge tray between us.

  I giggled, looking at the tray’s size. “You took my advice, huh? Did you leave food for anyone else?”

  Drew feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Hmmm.” I looked at the tray. “Let’s see: three cupcakes—vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry—slices of cherry and apple pie, an assortment of cookies, and—” I stopped. “Petits fours.” I met Drew’s eyes. Five dark-chocolate petits fours were drizzled with light-blue chocolate.

  “I can take those back if you don’t want them,” Drew said.

  “Are you kidding? I love those!” I looked at him, realizing he was teasing. “They’re amazing. I’m taking French and that’s my favorite shade of blue—it’s like you knew.”

  “I did know about French, but blue might have come up in casual conversation with Khloe.”

  “When did you guys talk?” I asked. “She’s such a sneak—she didn’t even tell me. I picked up my cup of white pear tea. I took a cautious sip, not wanting to burn my tongue.

  “We have our ways,” Drew said, taking a bite of apple pie. He gave me an I’m so mysterious look.

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked.

  “Okay, okay, so our ‘ways’ are running into each other in the tack room. I asked Khloe what you liked and made her swear not to tell you. Don’t get mad at her for breaking girl code or something.”

  I smiled. “I’m not mad. I would have done the same for her. This”—I gestured to our table—“is so thoughtful. No one’s done anything like this for me in a long time.”

  “I’m really glad you like it,” Drew said.

  We reached for different desserts and a million questions for him ran through my head.

  “I know you swim,” I said. “I haven’t been to the Canterwood pool yet.”

  “You definitely have to come. Sometime, when we’re not having practice, we could swim laps together or something. It’s the best.”

  “What made you love swimming?”

  Drew took a sip of his lemonade. “Before I joined any swim teams, I used to go to my uncle’s every summer. He lives in this part of rural Tennessee with a lake and dock
. He taught me how to swim. After a couple of summers, I asked my dad if I could join a swim team. We found one at the YMCA and I swam there until I came to Canterwood.”

  “That’s so cool. I’ve never been to Tennessee,” I said. “Or really out in the country like that either.”

  “My uncle Dan lives really out there—like, gravel roads and everything.” Drew grinned. “He let me drive his truck last year.”

  “Lucky! My parents won’t even let me sit in the driver’s seat,” I said.

  “Don’t be too jealous. I drove his trunk around a giant field with nothing but rolls of hay. I haven’t been within miles of a road.”

  We laughed. Drew had one of the best laughs. It was something I paid attention to in people I met. His was deep, and when he really got laughing, his eyes seemed to turn an even more brilliant blue.

  “I have a pool,” I said. “I love swimming, but swimming in a lake sounds scary.”

  “You’ve never done it?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “It would have to be crystal-clear water with a view of the bottom. The thought of swimming and a fish or something brushing against me creeps me out.”

  “I bet I could get you in a lake if you were with me,” Drew said. “I wouldn’t let anything—not even a minnow—near you.”

  I tilted my head. “I’ll have to think about that. Maybe if you convinced your uncle to let me drive.”

  Drew laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I bit into a delicious vanilla cupcake.

  “So, you know I’ve made it out alive from swimming in a lake. What’s your history with riding?”

  “Well, um, you know I rode competitively. I started really young and traveled a lot. It was my whole life, and after my accident, I needed a break.”

  Drew shook his head. “I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But it got me to Canterwood. If I’d kept competing, I probably would have lost sight of why I started riding in the first place—because I love horses. Taking a break gave me time to think. I realized coming here was what I wanted.”

  “To compete?” Drew asked.

  “Yes, but not like before. I’m never putting a ribbon before a horse or myself again. I want to enjoy riding and showing.”

  “How’re you feeling about the schooling show?”

  I licked icing off my cupcake. “About as many emotions as my brain can handle! I’m scared, excited, thinking about my past shows, proud to show off Whisper—a mess of things.”

  Drew shifted in his seat. “I don’t think it would be normal if you weren’t a little nervous. But I bet showing your own horse will help.”

  “I think so too. We’re really connected, and I don’t think I’ll feel alone in the arena.”

  “We should practice together,” Drew said, picking up his drink. “Polo needs work and so do I. Interested?”

  “Definitely.” I smiled. “That would be great.”

  We sipped our drinks and talked horses for a few more minutes. Awkward pauses never happened, and it was as if we were friends who had a lot of catching up to do.

  “Where are you from?” I asked.

  “Hartford,” Drew said. “It’s less than twenty minutes from here. I live with my dad. My parents split a few years ago and Mom lives in Seattle.”

  I saw something—maybe pain—flicker in his eyes when he brought up his mom.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That must be hard. Do you see your mom a lot?”’

  Drew shook his head. “Not really. I’ve been to her place once, and she comes a couple of times a year to see me, but we’re not close. My dad’s the best, though.” He smiled. “What about you?”

  “Union’s home,” I said. “I moved a lot, but I think my family’s settled in Union now. My mom’s a lawyer and Dad’s a writer. I’ve got two older sisters—Charlotte and Becca.”

  Drew asked me more questions about my family, and I told him about my relationships with Becca and Char. We talked and kept talking—my tea was gone long ago and we’d eaten every bit of food that Drew had ordered. We’d even picked up stray sprinkles.

  At the same time, our heads swiveled to the wall clock, as if instinct had kicked in.

  “Uh-oh,” Drew said.

  “The clock has to be wrong,” I said. “It’s not—”

  “We missed our next class,” Drew said. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I should have paid attention. I don’t want you to get in trouble. I’ll tell your teacher something—that I made you late.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “We were both talking and not watching the clock.”

  I waited for the impulse to jump up and start clearing the table. But I didn’t move. And neither did he. The guiltiness I waited for—the chastising myself for missing class—didn’t come.

  “Talking to you caused me to accidentally ditch class for the first time,” I said, smiling. “Ever.”

  Drew shook his head. “Great first impression. What class?”

  I laughed. “French, ironically. But you did get me petits fours, so I think that should count for something.”

  “I had fun,” Drew said.

  “Me too. Thanks for asking me.”

  “Maybe we can do this again?” Drew smiled. “I promise not to make you late next time.”

  “Hmmm . . .” I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, pretending to think. “I guess that sounds good.” I grinned. “The not-being-late part really sealed my decision.”

  We laughed and, together, started clearing the table. I’d find Mme. Lafleur later and apologize and offer to do extra credit or whatever necessary to keep up my grade. That didn’t mean I regretted my decision. I would miss French all over again for the très parfait lunch with Drew.

  23

  ROOMMATE

  GONE BAD

  “DREW TOTALLY CORRUPTED YOU! MY GOOD roommate has gone bad!” Khloe said, giggling.

  I laughed. “I’m cutting class every week now.” I swished my toes in the plastic tub that held my soaking feet. After our last classes, Khloe and I had turned our room into a spa. I’d told Khloe to feel free to take an extra-long hot shower, telling her I’d use it tonight while she was out. Now Khloe’s wet hair was wrapped in a towel and we were in terry-cloth robes.

  “This is so perfect,” Khloe said, sighing. “I get to gossip with my roomie and get pretty for Zack all at the same time.”

  “It’s only the first station,” I said. “We’ve got nails, face, hair, and makeup left.”

  I inhaled, loving the scents of lavender, rose, and mint. We were both at our desk chairs, feet in basins filled with warm water and rose-scented foot-softening gel.

  “I think I’m ready to scrub now,” I said, lifting a foot out of the water.

  “Me too,” Khloe said.

  Both of us had dug out our mani-pedi kits. I reached into mine and pulled out my pumice stone. I rubbed it over my left foot until the skin was smooth. Khloe did the same, and we dried our feet, then slathered them with minty lotion. We pulled on fuzzy socks to seal in the moisture.

  “The warmth from your body heat and the socks seals in the moisture,” Khloe said. “EBT.”

  “Good one. Mani time!” I said. “I’ll do your nails, Khlo.”

  Khloe smiled. “Yay! Thanks, LT. I’m not the best polisher ever.”

  “No problem. No way were you doing your own nails today—date or no date. Let me set up my salon.”

  I filled a small dish with water and poured in gel that turned the water a light pink. I put that bowl, a hand towel, and my nail kit on a spare clipboard on a lap tray on my bed. Our nail polish collection was out, and Khloe was going through the colors.

  “Come on over when you’ve got one,” I said.

  Khloe held up two bottles of OPI. “I’m torn,” she said. “Am I feeling bold and red à la Keys to My Karma or girly and Elephantastic Pink?”

  “Both are great colors. I think you’re more of a bold girl. Go red.”
>
  Khloe nodded. “You’re so right. I think I’ll do my toes pink or purple.”

  “Love,” I said. “I’ll probably do my nails some shade of pink. I don’t know about my toes yet.”

  Khloe sat cross-legged on my bed and put one hand into the dish. I took her other hand and held up the nail file.

  “Square or round, miss?” I asked.

  “Square, please. Thank you.”

  I giggled, starting to file. “This is fun. We have to do spa days more often.”

  Khloe nodded. “For sure. We deserve it to de-stress.”

  “This length okay?” I motioned to Khloe’s right hand.

  “Perfect. I think you’re on your way to a big tip.”

  I laughed and switched the water dish to the other side, so Khloe’s freshly smoothed nails could soak. I filed the nails on her other hand, then started the rest of the mani process. Khloe leaned back, eyes flickering shut, as I pushed back her cuticles, scrubbed her hands with an apricot-smelling exfoliant, rubbed on lotion, swiped polish remover over her nails, buffed them, and painted on a base coat.

  “My hands feel so good,” Khloe said. “Thank you so much, Laur.”

  “Of course,” I said, smiling. “Zack’s probably—no, definitely—going to hold your hand. When he does, it’s got to be ultra-soft.”

  I picked up the red OPI polish, rolling the bottle between my palms. That was an EBT I’d taught Khloe.

  “I can’t even think about that,” Khloe said. “I’m so nervous!”

  “It’s going to be so much fun that you’ll forget about being nervous,” I said. “Tell me the date plan again. And keep your hands still while I paint.”

  Khloe took a deep breath. “Okay. Still. I can be still. Oh, date plan.”

  I leaned over, painting a streak of red onto her nail. I’d never seen Khloe so flustered. She was always the outgoing, ready-for-anything girl. But tonight’s date made her adorably nervous. She’d even shampooed her hair twice by accident.

  “Zack’s meeting me in front of Christina’s office at seven,” Khloe said. “We’re going to The Slice first. I already thought about the menu and know what I’m getting.”

  “What?”

  “Caesar salad and some kind of pizza. I’m not getting anything messy or weird to eat in front of Zack. Like spaghetti. That would be so embarrassing to eat!”