Senior Week Crush

by Maggie Dallen

  Jack cut into my thoughts. “I guess we should head back to the house, huh?”

  No. “I guess.” Did he want to go back? Was this his way of saying he was getting bored? And did it matter if he was?

  I gave myself a mental eye roll. My tendency to overanalyze was going to be the death of me.

  I was here to win Dylan, not Jack. And Dylan was back at the party, which was where I should be. But the thought of joining that party again just made me feel tired. I could already feel my cheeks hurting as I pretended to smile and laugh, though I’d be bored to tears.

  I might not go to a lot of parties, but I’d been to enough to know this—being the only sober one is not terribly fun. No one is as funny as they think they are when they’re drunk. Their stories are also not nearly as entertaining as they’d like to believe. I’d already been growing bored at the party and the others hadn’t been drinking that much yet. By the time we got back though?

  I let out a sigh without meaning to.

  Jack dropped his arm and the loss of his warmth left me feeling cold and lonely.

  Which was stupid, he was still by my side. And we were headed back to a party full of people. I was far from lonely.

  Another sigh escaped and this time Jack didn’t let it slide.

  “Those are some pretty heavy sighs for such a little girl.” His teasing tone made me grin and I shoved him playfully.

  “Don’t call me little girl, that sounds creepy.”

  He laughed. “Sorry. You’re right. You are very clearly a burly man in disguise.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine, I might not be large in size, but I am not a girl.” I tossed my hair back like I was in a shampoo commercial and donned a Jessica Rabbit voice. “I’m a woman.”

  Jack’s low laugh had me turning to face him. I waited for him to argue that I was still young and naïve, or something. After all, he now knew my secret that I’d never been kissed, and he clearly knew that I didn’t drink or party. In his eyes, maybe I was a little girl.

  “Seriously,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s with the sighs?”

  Maybe it was because I was grateful he didn’t continue to tease me by bringing up the never-been-kissed thing, but I found myself telling him the truth. “I don’t want to go back to the party.”

  His steps hesitated beside before continuing beside me. After a brief silence, I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “Then let’s not go back.”

  The crowd ahead of us on the boardwalk grew thick as people clustered around a trio of jazz musicians playing for money. Jack grabbed my hand. “Come on.” He led me toward a staircase that led down to the beach. We could walk all the way back on the beach or cut back up to the boardwalk further down.

  The change of pace was nice. The noise from the games and the rides followed us but were washed out by the waves crashing. The lights grew dimmer as we headed toward the ocean.

  I was just thinking how nice the silence was, how oddly comfortable I’d been around Jack all night, even now walking on the beach at night. And then he had to go and ruin it. “So why haven’t you made a move on Dylan yet?”

  My head snapped to the left so I could face him. Was he serious? “We just got here today.”

  He wasn’t looking at me, his gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance. “Still, the time’s a tickin’, lay lady lay.”

  Somehow I didn’t hate the nickname so much now that we’d discussed it. I let it slide. Besides, I couldn’t believe he was asking me that when he’d been doing everything possible to throw the two of us together since we’d arrived earlier today. “I guess I was too busy trying to get myself out of awkward encounters that somebody threw me into.”

  He turned to face me then and grinned at my narrow-eyed scowl. “Are you still upset about that?”

  Was I? No, not really. But it was easier to cling to that than to admit that I hadn’t made a move because I didn’t know how. Not that that would come as a surprise to Jack. But I couldn’t ask him how to go about flirting with his friend or how to make him interested in me, that would be too weird.

  Our moment would happen—it had to.

  “I could help, you know.”

  I gave a short laugh. “Thanks, but I’ve seen your style of helping.” Raising my brows, I shot him a look. “It’s not helpful.”

  He shrugged. “We could try something different.”

  “Like what?”

  He stopped walking and I did too. He turned to face me with a sigh of frustration. “Look, I don’t want to sound like a dick but I think you could use some help.”

  Wow. Ouch. It felt like a literal slap across the face. I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “What, am I that hopeless?” I looked down at my admittedly not-trendy outfit, made even less attractive with Jack’s hoodie. Maybe I should have made notes on Mattie’s makeup tricks and asked to borrow some clothes or something.

  Or maybe… a horrifying new thought occurred to me. Was Jack trying to tell me that I’d been a terrible kisser?

  “Okay, whatever you’re thinking, I need you to take about five steps back from the deep end,” Jack said, his gaze moving over my face and my defensive stance. “I didn’t mean that you couldn’t win Dylan over exactly as you are, I just meant—”

  “Am I that bad of a kisser?”

  His eyes widened as the blood rushed to my face. Had I really just asked that?

  Yes, yes I had.

  “What? Why—who—why would you even think that?”

  A part of me didn’t know if I should be embarrassed or amused. I’d never seen Jack so flustered. It was kind of cute.

  “I didn’t say that,” he said, his hands coming up to ruffle his hair as he looked all around the beach as if looking for witnesses. “Why would you think that’s what I meant?”

  Seriously, Jack ruffled was pretty adorable. I almost didn’t want to let him off the hook. But I did. “Okay, I believe you. I just…” I shrugged. “You’re the only person I’ve kissed so I thought maybe….”

  His expression grew stern. “No. That’s not what I meant.” Something was going on beneath the surface. His eyes darkened, his lips thinned. He almost looked… guilty. His next words confirmed it. “Look, if I’d known that was your first kiss, I never would have done it.”

  Ouch. I knew he was trying to be nice but somehow that stung even more than his earlier comment. Jack might not be trying to offend me but he was doing an excellent job of it anyway.

  It clicked. His guilt, his weird actions. “Is that why you were trying to throw us together?” I asked. “You felt guilty for kissing me?”

  His eyes met mine and I stopped breathing at the intensity I saw there. I didn’t know what it meant, but there was so much emotion there, I couldn’t look away.

  Whatever it was, it made me inexplicably nervous. My heart stuttered as my hands clasped together in front of me to keep from trembling. The moment stretched and I grew afraid that he wouldn’t break the silence… or that he would.

  I broke it instead, falling back on my defensive hurt rather than delving into whatever was going on beneath the surface here. “So, what, you think I’m so desperate that I need your help?”

  The tension eased as Jack rolled his eyes. “God, you are so touchy sometimes.”

  I frowned. “I’m a soon-to-be drama major, Jack, sensitive is kind of my domain.”

  He let out a huff of a laugh and the tension eased a bit more. But then he took a step toward me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. “Look, I know Dylan and he’s…” His face scrunched up as if he was searching for the word. Finally he settled for, “Obtuse.”

  I held in a snort-laugh at that depiction. Typically my first reaction would have been defensive indignation on his behalf but after all those interactions today, I wasn’t feeling quite so generous. I mean, had he seriously not seen that we were being set up? Or had he seen and just played dumb to avoid having to deal with me?

  That thought made my sto
mach turn. No. That couldn’t be right. Destiny wouldn’t be so cruel. He wouldn’t be so cruel.

  Still, I found myself looking up at Jack for answers. He was right, Jack knew Dylan, far better than I did. I might have been watching my neighbor for years on end, but Jack had become one of his closest friends. “Is he not…” I cleared my throat. “Do you think he doesn’t like me like that?”

  Ugh. It came out all shaky and sad, not at all how I’d intended. However, we were talking about the guy I’d been obsessing about for years here. I supposed it made sense that I’d be a tad overly emotional when it came to him.

  Jack stiffened. His gaze hardened. “I didn’t say that. He’d be an idiot not to like you.”

  I stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on behind Jack’s hard-to-read façade. “But you said…. You’d said….”

  He let out a long exhale. “I said he was obtuse, and I mean it. I like the guy—he’s a nice guy. But he’s not always able to see what’s right in front of his face.”

  His gaze had turned intense again. I just wanted you to know that I saw you.

  I blinked, trying to hide the fact that his words from earlier in the night had come back to haunt me. No, not haunt me. They kicked me in the gut. They made the world spin as they started to take on a whole new meaning.

  “So how…” I started and then stopped, swallowing down some of the completely irrational nerves that left my whole body trembling. I needed to focus. We were talking about Dylan.

  Dylan, I reminded myself as Jack’s gaze caught and held mine. Dylan, the guy I was here to win over. The guy I was destined for… right?

  “How do I make him see me?” I asked.

  After a silence that lasted for a heartbeat but felt monumental, Jack gave me that smirk of a smile that made me feel like the world had righted itself again. Up was once again up and down was down. Jack was a smug ass, Dylan was meant to be my boyfriend, and the world made sense once more.

  He turned and started walking, with me shuffling through the sand at his side. “Oh, he’ll notice you. When he sees you up on stage at the club tomorrow night….” He glanced over and gave me a rueful smile, “He won’t know what hit him.”

  I stammered for a second before giving up on talking. I knew what he meant, what he was referring to. “But that’s not me.”

  His brows drew down in question. “What do you mean? That sexy rocker chick I’ve been hanging out with this weekend…she’s not you? Who is she then?”

  I rolled my eyes, glad that the darkness would cover my blush. Sexy rocker chick. I tucked that away for another day. “You know what I mean,” I complained. “That’s just a character, it’s not me.”

  He stopped walking again, smiling like he was trying not to laugh. “Yes, it is.”

  “No,” I said in the same condescending tone. “It’s not.”

  He moved closer and leaned in until he was so close I could feel his breath against my cheek. I battled a crazy and overwhelming urge to lean in further, to close that miniscule distance and wrap my arms around him.

  “Layla James, you can tell yourself whatever you want, but I know what I saw. I know what I’ve seen since the first day I saw you.”

  I gasped and inhaled his warm, clean scent, which went straight to my head.

  “You are so much more than you give yourself credit for,” he said.

  He pulled back as if he’d just let me in on a secret and I didn’t know what to make of it—of his words, of the slight sadness that tinged his handsome features, or the look in his eyes that was so unreadable but so heavy with emotion.

  My brain scrambled to come up with a response but I was speechless, my lips parted for air because the oxygen levels seemed to take a dive. I saw his gaze move to my lips and stay there.

  I seriously couldn’t breathe. My heart was too loud, too fast. I was afraid to inhale, afraid to speak. I didn’t know if I wanted him to pull away and make a joke or lean in and kiss me.

  Kiss me!

  Okay, apparently some part of me knew what it wanted, but it was a part not rooted in reality. It was the voice of a teenaged girl who’d had one epic, amazing kiss and wanted a repeat performance. I craved it, to the point that I found myself leaning in.

  But he didn’t kiss me. His gaze was searching, but I didn’t know what he was looking for or what he expected from me. Whatever it was, I feel like I failed. He pulled away, turning back toward the direction of the beach house.

  I fell into step beside him and the silence was no longer comforting. He seemed lost in thought, and so was I.

  My head was a muddled mess when we arrived back at the house. I almost protested—the sounds of the noisy crowd made me want to stay out on that beach all night. But Jack was heading back in and that was where I needed to be.

  After all, Dylan was in there and he was the reason I’d come here. I couldn’t avoid hanging out with him if I expected anything to happen between the two of us.

  But when I got inside, the party was raging and I felt like an outsider looking in. A sober, lonely outsider. I hung around the periphery for a while but no one seemed to notice me.

  No one but Jack. I often caught him watching me, but he made no move to come talk to me and I kept my distance. I didn’t know what just happened out on the beach, but it scared the hell out of me. And I didn’t even know why, that was the worst part.

  But there was no denying that every time I thought about that moment—and I thought about it constantly—my heart picked up its pace and threatened to jump outside of my chest.

  He’d been about to kiss me; I don’t think I was making that up. And I’d wanted him to. Or at least, a part of me had. But why? He didn’t like me and I didn’t like him.

  I shivered at the memory of his arm around my shoulders, of the way he looked at me when we were talking, or the way he smiled at me when he was amused.

  I didn’t like him like that… did I?

  I didn’t know. I watched Dylan joke around with a group of his friends and tried to figure out what I was feeling—for him, for Jack. I had no clue. My emotions were a jumbled mass of confusion.

  All I knew… all I really knew for certain?

  I needed Amy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was the first one up the next morning. Not surprisingly since I’d also been the first to go to bed and the only one to go to bed sober. Maybe I should have been shocked by the scene in the living room the next morning, but I was more disgusted. People were passed out everywhere, food and drinks were all over the place. The house was a disaster.

  I would have started cleaning but to do that would have woken up the houseguests who littered the floor and every available piece of furniture. So instead, I snuck out. This time I remembered my wallet, thank you very much, along with Amy’s firm command that I buy a new swimsuit.

  Swimsuit shopping was never fun, not unless you had the perfect body, I imagined, so it seemed like the perfect chore to get out of the way this morning. Besides, maybe a little retail therapy would help me sort out the mess in my head.

  Or was it my heart?

  One swimsuit later and I was depleted of most of my cash and was no closer to figuring out what was going on in my life. Luckily it was late enough that Amy would be awake.

  She answered on the second ring and I didn’t bother with niceties like “hello.” I went right into analysis mode. “Oh thank God you answered. I need help. So much help. I’m here to win over Dylan but I’m sucking at it. Like, it’s physically uncomfortable to talk to him and I’m pretty sure he’s bored to tears when I’m talking and also, I think he might actually think my name is Laynie.”

  I paused to gasp for air and was annoyed to hear Amy chuckling on the other end of the line. “Whoa, slow down. What’s going on with Dylan? And what happened in Philadelphia? I saw those pictures of you and you looked amazing!”

  I blinked at the ocean as if it might help clear things up. “You saw what?”

  I hadn�
��t sent Amy any pictures from the show…or any at all. And I hadn’t posted any pictures, on Instagram, Facebook, or anywhere else for that matter. I was kind of anti-social media, not for any good reason, just out of sheer paranoia about privacy—something I’d probably have to get over if I ever wanted to make it as a star. But the point is, when Amy said she saw those pictures, I had a mini panic attack.

  What pictures? From when? What had I been doing?

  “Some chick named Matilda Robinson posted them and tagged you,” she said.

  Matilda? It clicked in a heartbeat. Mattie. Of course she’d posted pictures from the show, she’d probably posted them that night so she could brag to all of Jack’s old friends about how great he was.

  “I totally agree with Jack, by the way,” Amy continued. “Once Dylan sees you up on stage wearing those clothes and all glammed up like that? There’s no way he won’t notice you.”

  Two thoughts went through my mind at once. One, I hadn’t brought any of those clothes or the makeup, and even if I had, I wouldn’t know how to transform myself into a rock goddess. And two, why did I have to be dressed like that for Dylan to notice me?

  I said as much to Amy and she let out a little sigh. “First of all, you can totally do this transformation if you wanted to. Go buy yourself a short skirt and a shirt that fits, and you’ll be fine.” I held my breath as I waited for her second piece of advice, but when it came, it wasn’t exactly satisfying. “As for why you need to get all dressed up like that for him to notice you…” She sighed again, and this time it sounded kind of sad. Maybe even pitying. “I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t. I mean, you’ve been right in front of his face for years. You’ve talked to him several times this week alone. Layla….” The way she said my name was sobering. She sounded older than me all of the sudden. She sounded wise beyond her years. “If he hasn’t noticed you up until now, I don’t know if he’s worthy of your time.”

  I battled a hundred emotions at once. Some were easy to pinpoint, like the same frustration I always felt when Amy didn’t understand my infatuation with Dylan. But there was more to it this time. I couldn’t even bring myself to argue with her, maybe because part of me was starting to think she might be right.