Love and Other Secrets

by Christina Mandelski

  I growl under my breath, but what I’m really feeling is hurt. “There isn’t. There’s nothing. He’s just a friend.” I don’t want advice from Jax, but Alex is still over there, standing right next to Devon.

  As I make a cappuccino for a customer, I know I need to stop thinking about Alex. I need to stop wondering if he’s a good kisser or what he might look like minus clothing—

  Stop!

  This is ridiculous.

  Now more than ever I know that promposing to Caleb is my best move. Having one actual friend doesn’t seem very healthy—and given the fact that Alex barely acknowledged my presence just now, am I even that good of a friend?

  Also, I really do want a boyfriend before I’m forty. How’s that going to happen if I spend my nights ticking off a list of top teen movies with a guy who refuses to be boyfriend material?

  Short answer: it’s not.

  Alex spends another ten minutes at table three—and oh yes, I hear it all. They’re talking about the lacrosse game on Friday; they’re talking about the prom theme, which they all “hate so, so much,” mostly because they didn’t think of it. This year the science club seniors came up with, “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,” in honor of the culmination of high school and also global warming and our dying planet, and I think it’s brilliant.

  Then they’re talking about dates to prom, and I hear Devon say, loud and clear, “I don’t have a date yet.” She lets that hang out there like a worm on the end of a fishing pole. “Do you, Kov?”

  Within ten seconds, Alex is at the counter, looking completely freaked.

  “Hi,” he says. “Save me.”

  I touch my chest and look back over my shoulder. Who does he think he is? “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?”

  Jax, who for some reason is still leaning against the counter, snickers and then walks to the back office.

  Alex frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  Anger flares up in me. He has so much nerve. “What are you doing here? You don’t even like coffee,” I say. “Or are you just here to visit your friends?” I’m being rough, but I don’t care.

  He drops his chin and chuckles. “What, are you jealous?” He doesn’t say this particularly quietly and I feel my face turn red. How dare he?

  “Are you kidding me?”

  He doesn’t respond, unless you count that douche-y smirk as a response.

  “What?” I glare at him.

  “Well, you are blushing.”

  “I am not blushing.” I lean forward and sneer. “I’m pissed.” I don’t bother to keep my voice down. “Do you want something?”

  He laughs at me, and now I’m furious.

  “What do you recommend?” he asks. “You know, for someone who hates coffee?”

  My fury instantly calms. He’ll pay for calling out that blush, and I know how. “Sure.” I ring his order into the register. “I know the perfect thing. That’ll be $5.38. Please.”

  “Damn.” He pulls a twenty out of his wallet. “It better be good.”

  “You’ll love it.”

  I proceed to make him the stickiest, sparkliest, sweetest, most disgusting Psychedeliccino ever. As I’m mixing it up, he leans his elbows on the counter.

  “Hey,” he whispers. “Can you come over tonight? We need to work on our secret project.” Judging from the hush that has fallen on table three, I’m thinking they want to know what’s happening over here.

  I pause, not sure what to say. “Probably not. I have a bunch of tests this week. That’s why I went to the library today. To study.”

  Honestly, I’m ready for the tests, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be with Alex when I’m meant to be focusing on another boy entirely. Plus, if I’m honest, he’s not wrong. I am sort of jealous, and that is not okay.

  “Oh, come on, you’ll be fine. It’s Monday, but Friday will be here before you know it. We need to get to organized.”

  I place the Psychedeliccino in front of him, and he frowns. “What the hell is that?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “One of our best sellers. Enjoy.”

  He looks worried, which was exactly what I was going for.

  “So? Tonight?” he asks, slipping a straw into the cup.

  “Hey!” It’s Devon, magically at his side. “What’s going on tonight? Is there a party?” She looks totally cool, like she would never see me as a threat to her plans with Alex. Which is good for her, because I am not one.

  The thing about Devon McGill is that she isn’t a bad person. She sat next to me for those few weeks in AP Physics class until she couldn’t handle the work and transferred out, but at least she was friendly. I don’t hate the girl.

  “Nope,” Alex answers her. “No party.”

  “Oh. Bummer.” She sounds wounded, but Alex offers no further explanation. She places her almost empty plastic cup on the counter and smiles my way. “You know, I don’t think you used sugar-free syrup in my iced latte.”

  “Oh,” I say. Of course I used sugar free, those girls are always all sugar free, and they know when the chemical aftertaste of their sugar substitute is missing, which it was not.

  “And I’m feeling a little jittery. It’s got to be the sugar. I’m not supposed to have it. I’m sorry, but can you make it again?”

  Maybe you’re feeling jittery because you got those two extra shots of espresso? But no. The customer is always right. The customer is always right.

  I smile and turn my back to her so that I can gag. “Sure, no problem,” I say over my shoulder. “Just take a second.”

  “Come back and sit with us, Alex,” I hear her say.

  “Can’t,” he answers. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Oh?” Her voice goes into a higher octave. “Like planning a promposal?”

  Well, that was bold. Touche, Devon.

  “Something like that,” he says. Now I glance over and make eye contact with him, and he smiles at me. I don’t think she caught that—she’s too busy grinning from ear to ear, in her own world, sure she’s about to get promposed to.

  She grabs his bicep. “I hope I get to be there when you do it.”

  He stares blankly at her as I give her the re-made drink.

  “Thanks, Bindi,” she says to me, then releases Alex’s arm and walks back to the table.

  Our eyes meet again as he takes a deep swig of his drink. “This is really terrible.” He drinks some more.

  “Yes.” I cross my arms. “It is.”

  He pulls a ten out of his wallet and stuffs it in the tip jar. “For Bindi,” he says. “I’ll see you later?”

  I squint and square my jaw, going for a badass tough girl look. But then I follow up with the tiniest nod, because of course Bindi has no idea how to say no to Alex Koviak.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex

  When I get home from the coffee shop, Miriam is in the kitchen.

  “Hey, why are you still here?” I ask.

  She puts her hands on her hips. “Why? You got a house party planned or something?”

  I slump onto the barstool and let my backpack drop to the floor. “That’s exactly it.”

  She laughs her crazy laugh. It’s too loud and sounds like a machine gun, but I don’t mind it, not at all. It’s the laugh I’ve been hearing since I was two years old. I think it’s one of the things I’ll miss most when I leave for school.

  She stirs something on the stove. I watch the spoon go around and around slowly, rhythmically. It weirdly calms me down.

  “You have a good day?” she asks.

  I rub my face with my hands. “Yeah. Maybe. Maybe not? I honestly have no idea.”

  The whole scene at Java Infusion was weird with Devon and that sketchy boss of Bailey’s, and what was up with her anyway? I probably shouldn’t have said she was jealous. Girls never dig that, but she didn’t have to get pissy and give me that disgusting drink.

  “Hmm,” she says. “One of those days.”

  “Yeah. I seriously think I
might be losing my mind. You ever feel that way?”

  She laughs again. “Not lately, but yes, I have felt that way in the past, especially when I was your age.”

  “Why’s that, do you think?”

  She grins, big. Miriam does everything big—she’s like six feet tall, with big hair, long nails. She sings big, talks big, and all her food has big flavor.

  “That’s an excellent question. Maybe it’s because you’re deciding what kind of person you want to be and what you want to get out of life and what you’re willing to give to get there.”

  I pfft out a breath. “That’s pretty deep. We’re talking about me, remember?”

  She pulls a ladle out of the drawer, grabs a bowl from the cabinet, and scoops up some of whatever she’s making. It really doesn’t matter. I’ll eat it.

  “I know exactly who I’m talking about.”

  She puts the bowl down in front of me, and my taste buds instantly go insane.

  “Chicken and dumplings?” I whisper.

  “Yep.”

  “Wow.” I feel like I’m gonna cry. Seriously, it’s bizarre. I love the stuff, but it doesn’t usually make me emotional. I force myself to keep it together. “Thanks, Miriam.”

  “Of course.” She leans her elbows on the counter. “So is Miss Bailey coming over tonight?”

  “Yeah, she’s coming over. I’m helping her ask a guy to the prom.” I say it out loud, hoping it’ll make me feel better about the whole situation.

  It doesn’t.

  “Oh,” she says. “I was kind of hoping you were gonna ask her. I like that girl.”

  “Who, me? You kidding?” I shake my head. “Miss Bailey has her eyes on someone else.”

  Miriam frowns. “Who’s she asking?”

  I roll my eyes. “Mr. Perfect.”

  Her mouth curves. “No such thing.”

  “No,” I sigh. “He is pretty much the perfect guy. Good looking. Nicest dude on earth. You can’t hate him. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “Sounds too good to be true.”

  I love Miriam.

  “You hear from DeeDee today?” I ask, not wanting to talk about Gray any more.

  “I did talk to your mother. She wants you to return her texts.”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t always get what we want.”

  She waves a hand and grabs her purse. “You are a brat,” she says. “And I’ve got to go. Now finish your dinner, don’t forget to put the trash out—tomorrow’s garbage day—and don’t you dare leave that food out on the stove when you’re done. I mean it! Make sure you offer some to Bailey, and tell her I say hi!” She yells instructions all the way out the back of the house to the garage, and then she’s out the door and gone.

  The house is quiet again, and it’s only eight o’clock. I have a little homework, and then I gotta do all the crap Miriam asked for, but other than that, all I have to do is sit around and wait for Bailey. If she comes. She said she would, but the way she was looking at me at the coffee shop, I don’t know.

  I flip on the TV and drop onto the sofa where she usually sits, and I swear I smell coffee in the fabric. I don’t like coffee, it’s true, but she makes it smell good.

  Around ten, my mom calls me from whatever the hell time zone, and I answer. She doesn’t have good news. They probably won’t be home for the game on Friday, even though she knows damn well it’s Senior Night. She wants me to know how bad they feel and how they’ll be here for all the other senior things.

  I don’t believe a word she says and get off the phone as soon as I can. They never make it to any of my games, which is whatever, but they’re supposed to be at Senior Night. I’m going to be the only player there whose parents don’t show.

  When I hear Bailey’s car chugging up the driveway, I hop up, eager to think about something else. I open the door right before she knocks again.

  “Hi?” she laughs with her fist in the air. There’s a purple cardboard box in her other hand.

  “Hey,” I say. “You’re late.”

  She drops her fist and frowns. “Nice to see you, too. Yes, I’d love to come in.”

  I step back and open the door wide. I’m such a dipshit. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just got off the phone with my mom. Come in.”

  “How is she?” Bailey asks as she steps inside. I get an instant whiff of java.

  “She’s stellar. Both of them, fantastic. It’s like they’re in their own world with no clue what’s going on in mine.”

  “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry.” She gets this stricken look on her face, and I know she really is sorry. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” she says as she follows me through the house. “I do not think that word means what you think it means,” she quotes from the movie The Princess Bride. That’s one of her favorites.

  I wave her off. “No, seriously. I’m used to it.”

  I am good at not expecting much from my parents these days. It’s a necessary coping mechanism when it comes to them.

  “Doesn’t make it suck any less.” Bailey throws her bag onto a chair at the kitchen table and holds out the purple box in her arms. “Leftover pastries. Fuel for crafting.”

  I open the top to inspect. Two lemon bars and a cookie shaped like an Easter bunny. “Cool. That was nice of you,” I say. “Miriam made chicken and dumplings, too, if you’re hungry.”

  “Oh, yes,” she says but first sits at the table and tugs off her regulation ugly black work shoes. “Ahh,” she sighs. “And Jax made me clean out the walk-in before I left. That’s why I was late, thank you for asking.”

  “That dude is strange.” I walk the pastries into the kitchen. “And I figured you were blowing me off, considering what an asshole I was to you today.” I open the refrigerator and grab a glass bottle of Dr. Pepper. She doesn’t drink a lot of soda, but I know she loves DP. I flip the top off and quickly dish up a bowl of chicken and dumplings, grab a spoon, and serve her. “Here,” I say as I hand them over. “I’m sorry.”

  She takes a long, deep swig, never taking her eyes off me. “I’m not jealous that you have other friends, Alex,” she says when she sets the bottle down, “but I’m also not ashamed to be your friend. Are you ashamed to be mine?”

  “No!” I say. “That wasn’t it at all. Honestly. I knew I’d have to talk to them, and I wanted to get it over with, but holy shit, they never shut up.”

  She watches me with those eyes a little longer than I expect. Long enough to make me feel unsteady on my feet. “Trust me, I know,” she finally says. “They’re always there, and I have to listen to them for hours at a time. It’s torture some days.” She takes a deep breath and stares at the soda bottle. “Okay. I forgive you.”

  A weight that I didn’t know was there lifts off of me. “Good,” I say, “because we have some glittering to do.”

  She groans. “Are you sure the glitter is necessary?”

  I shrug. “Only if you’re all in.” I level my gaze at her, waiting for a response.

  “All in?” she asks.

  “This plan isn’t gonna work unless you’re all in.”

  She screws up a corner of her mouth and twists it into an uncertain smile. “Okay. Yes. I’m all in.”

  My gut clenches. I don’t want her to be all in, but that’s the deal. I grab the bag of supplies. “Good. As soon as you’re done eating, we’ll do this.”

  Ten minutes later, we settle on the tile floor of the sunroom because Miriam will kill me if she finds glitter on the antique rugs. The plan is to spell out the dumbass phrases that I came up with in glue and then sprinkle the glue with glitter. I go over the plan for Friday. O’Dell will bring the cow to the school during the game, park near the locker room entrance. She’ll meet him there, and at the end of the game, O’Dell will unload the cow and help her up onto it. Then, when the players walk from the field to the locker room, my buddy Jack, who works in the booth, will play “Deep in the Heart of Texas” over the loudspeaker. That’s when it will h
appen. She’ll hold up the poster boards one at a time, and Caleb Gray will be asked to prom.

  It’s perfect—for her, and for Caleb. Not so much for me. She’s gluing, and I’m trying not to watch her, but ever since my own promposal got scrubbed, I swear she’s gotten cuter. Not at all perfect, but like Miriam so accurately noted, there’s no such thing as perfection. I think that Bailey Banfield is pretty damn close, though, and that Caleb Gray is a lucky son of a bitch.

  “All right,” she says. “Pass the glitter, I guess.” Her mouth scrunches up as I hand it to her. “All in, huh?” she asks.

  “All in.”

  I wave a hand as she glitters the shit out of the poster. “Whoa. I think that’s enough.” She practically dumped half the bottle out.

  “Oh.” She laughs. “Look who’s so detail oriented all of a sudden.”

  I stare hard at her. “What does that mean?”

  She lifts her eyebrows. “Nothing bad. I’ve just seen this whole new side of you with this promposal. You’ve thought of everything. Maybe you should major in event planning.”

  “What, like weddings and bar mitzvahs? That sounds terrible.”

  She laughs. “Fine. I actually think there’s probably more to event planning than that.” She sprinkles more glitter in the one spot that isn’t completely drowning in it. “So have you thought more about what you want to major in?”

  “I don’t know. Underwater basketweaving?” I wait for the laugh, but it doesn’t come. “What?”

  She shakes her head. “You’re literally going to college in a few months. Maybe it’s time you start taking it seriously? Make some actual plans?”

  She’s right, but hell, except for setting up my friends and this one promposal, I’m not big on plans. “Not everyone knows what they want to do with their life, Miss I’ve-got-my-entire-existence-figured-out.”

  Now she lobs an eye roll at me. I know that my lack of commitment to anything except lacrosse irritates her. She’s never said it out loud, but it’s not hard to read her cues.

  “You don’t have to have it all figured out right away, but you have skills, Alex. More than you realize.”

  I watch her as she shakes the excess glitter off of the word Bull. “Oh yeah, like what?”